#no one ever let me write a single fic this long ever again

[creative-kny-fics]

My dude, I am on a mission to find more Lee!Gyokko content, but it seems I’m the only one to have made that a thing…

So if you could..

would you pretty..

PRETTY please make a TK fic of Lee!Gyokko with any ler?

I ask you because you’re one of the best TK writers I know 🥹🙏

Aaaaw, you're so sweet! Honestly, I don't consider myself a good writer, because I have different ways/methods of writing long stories, but it's nice that you think that about me. Sure, no problem! (stop creating art because you give me more ideas)

Gyokko's live reaction lol

First Fic:

Ler: Muichiro Tokito

Lee: Gyokko (UpperMoon 5)

Well well, let's start this, straight to the fight, Muichiro already had his new katana so now the fight was serious, at least like that in the anime.

'Now, prostrate yourself before my beauty!', he received no response.

Muichiro just stared at him, stunned when he started yelling at him, although he remained calm, saying that he had told him many minutes ago to shut up, and to finish...

'I'm not surprised by what you've done'.

He tried to hit, a single blow and that little boy would have turned into a pile of fish, fortunately he is not just any little boy, he is a hashira, so it was not that difficult for him to dodge that attack.

'What's happening? Are you going to hide in a tree? I thought trees were prohibited in the playground...'

'No, I just climbed up here so I wouldn't be around your disgusting smell, take a shower, don't you think you need it?'

Muichiro looked closely, for a demon, it was one of the strangest he had ever encountered, it was half fish and half human? Or what the hell was it?

Whatever it was, I noticed something about him, that was... A belly button...?

It was probably the most human thing he had, and he was curious, it was something strange, honestly.

'What's happening? Do you finally appreciate my true beauty?'

'You don't have any beauty, honestly, I'm just curious... And what is that?'

'That?! What are you implying?! I am a perfect creature! I have no imperfections! How dare you?! You're going to-!', as I said before, was probably the only human thing Gyokko had.

As soon as he touched what for Gyokko was an "imperfection", his figure changed from being a large, long snake to being something similar to a sea slug, in Muichiro's words.

'What happened to me...? No, this is inconceivable, what the hell is this?!', and yes, Gyokko had no idea what had happened to him.

He felt a chill, something that made him turn that way, and if it wasn't humiliating enough, he felt the hashira that he HAD TO KILL pick him up and look at him curiously, as if he were a dog or a baby.

'What? What happened to you? I don't see you as threatening anymore, huh, now you're so easy to crush...'

'GET ME DOWN YOU FUCKING BRAT, IF YOU DON'T GET ME DOWN I'LL TEAR YOUR ARM OFF!'

'Oh really? In that situation? With that size? I only did this and made you this size, will it be that if I do it again, you will shrink more and more until you just disappear?'

That was ridiculous, there was no way for that to happen, she just took it unnoticed, just that, this "humiliation" would not let him pass, but what do you think...

As soon as he wanted to regain his size, the same movement, the same feeling of before, but this time he had the impulse to use his tail to try to stop the boy's arm, was it strange for him? Definitely

'I understand what's going on, you're ticklish, who knew, your only weaknesses were supposed to be the nichirin katanas and the sun... I think I just discovered a new one, hah, how ironic...~'

'Yo-yohou're wrohohong...! I a-am... I am ahahaha... Pe-peheherfehehehect crehehahahat-tuhuhure...!'

'Whatever you say, you're not going to deny that at some point you were human and part of those sensations stayed with you, of course, if at some point you were human because you look like a fish...'

'Dahahahamn bra-brahahat!! I-I'll kihihill y-yohohou!!', I don't think so, at least not at the moment

Did you think it was bad? Na-ah, Muichiro was just playing with him, he was just putting his hands up his sides, he didn't even have to hold him up, his tail didn't leave his arm and if he did, he would fall, so, he wasn't running away or anything like that.

'Who knew... Heh, weren't you a powerful creature? Because I see that you are falling apart at a few small, light touches...'

'Fu-fuhuckihihing li-lihahahahar!!'

'Heh, what if I do this again?'

As I said, Muichiro was just playing with the demon, all he had to do was put his finger in its navel again for the grip on its tail and its desire to escape to increase.

Hah, Muichiro was having fun, it was kind of weird, but how many chances would a hashira have of defeating a demon just by doing this?

He may leave him if he accepts his defeat, he may not, everything will be in the hands of the hashira

Second Fic:

Ler: Douma (UpperMoon 2)

Lee: Gyokko (UpperMoon 5)

'But Muzan-Sama! I have something that will surely make you happy and closer to your dreams!'

'I care little. Do you think that shit can make me happy? Then take that information and leave once and for all with Hantengu to wherever you got that information, if I find out it's false, you're going to pay for it, get out of my sight!'

Nakime strummed her biwa and Muzan simply disappeared, leaving his "subordinate" on the ground, oh how bad, at least there was someone who cared about him, more or less.

'Dear Gyokko, why don't you share that information with me?'

'Eeeeh, I don't think that's a good idea...'

'Come on Gyokko, I want to know too! Share the information with...-!', tell you what happened?

Well, Akaza approached him, he was not willing to deal with his bullshit, the indication was clear that only Gyokko and Hantengu knew that information, so it irritated him that his higher rank was trying to find out, something that, for Akaza, he had no right.

'Has Muzan-Sama given you orders? He was clear, only Gyokko and Hantengu can know, why don't you go back to your stupid cult before I hit you again?!'

And yes, the scene continues with "normality", Kokushibo scolding Akaza for "slapping" his superior, Douma excusing Akaza, saying that it is his way of playing and so on, making the pink-haired demon more angry.

Kokushibo gave Akaza one last warning before leaving, which Akaza also did when Douma tried to speak to him again.

'Biwa woman, would you do me the favor of taking me and Hantengu to-! ACK!'

'Hey hey Gyokko, I haven't finished talking to you! Go ahead, I can be of great help to you!'

'Eeeeh, I think Akaza-Sama and Muzan-Sama were very clear...'

'Ooooh, do you want me to get the information out of you the hard way? It's fine with me!'

This was just a game for Douma, I think we all know that whatever the opportunity, he will tickle his partner, whether to annoy him or just because he's bored.

'Come on Gyokko, tell me the information! I promise not to tell anyone!'

'I CAHAHAN'T!! HAHANTEHENGU!! HEHELP MEHEHEHE!!'

'HEYIA! D-don't get me into that Gyokko!'

'It looks like you're alone... Come on, just tell me! I promise you won't even notice me! I just want to know!', and in some part, just bother him

Gyokko wasn't having a good time, why? I think we've already seen that Douma seems to have claws instead of nails, adding to the fact that he is a demon and that any damage that Gyokko did to him would simply regenerate, well, needless to say...

'Really? Are you going to continue being stubborn? Oh wow... I guess I'll continue then...'

'NOHOHOHO!! NA-NAKIHIMEHEHE!! GE-GET ME OHOHUT OF HEHEHEREEEE!!'

'Biwa woman, don't pay attention to him, he's fine!'

Nakime was already annoyed, so without listening to Douma, she ripped her biwa again and sent Gyokko and Hantengu in the direction

In turn, she gave another strum to send Douma back to his cult, finally peace and tranquility for her

Third fic:

Lee: Gyokko

Lers: Aizetsu, Sekido, Urogi and Karaku (Hantengu Clones)

'Remind me why...? AYIE! I-I UNDERSTAND...!', let's go back to what happened a little.

Gyokko and Hantengu were calmly, everything relaxed, everything calm, even if the demons did not need to rest, it was a moment of tranquility, at least for Gyokko

No idea why he would have suddenly looked for his partner to rub his head and belly, nor that he was a dog to be doing that, but, to each his own.

'Gyokko... Can I go now...?'

'No, did I tell you to stop? No, right? So continue', on top of that they help him, he treats him like that.

But well, although Hantengu is a fearful person, he was not someone with that much patience, so, after so much time and having to endure Gyokko's verbal abuse, he simply got fed up.

'What is that light...?'

Yes, well, it wasn't a situation where Hantengu was in danger as such but, someone had to stop Gyokko, so he simply let out his clones, who looked quite displeased with what was done by his "subordinate"

'Since when does a lower rank than us have the right to treat us badly, eh?'

'Someone should teach you manners, so you stop being a spoiled bitch who thinks can have everything on a silver platter.'

'I feel sorry for you, but I'll have to obey them, I'm sorry, Gyokko...', honestly, he wasn't sorry.

Gyokko was already in a nice position, so it wasn't difficult for them to have to immobilize him and so on, he was literally crying out for it.

'WHAHAT THE HEHEHELL?! WHE-WHERE IS HAHAHANTEHENGUHUHU?!'

'We, in a certain part, are Hantengu now you're screwed, I don't think you'll die from this, besides, you have more hands than us, not taking them out is your problem'

'IDIHOHOTS!!'

'Hah, insult all you want, but you're not safe from this...'

Anything worse? Nah well, first, his nails weren't that sharp but, if they were long enough to carry him into the story, added to the fact that Urogi has claws, literally, and has feathers, well, you can imagine.

[celestialholz]

Live long and fuck in Hondas (or 'why that Vulcan salute is way more significant than you think it is')

Hey. Hey Holz. Did you know Deadpool and Wolverine fucked in the Odyessy? Did you know that they now live in a one-bed with Blind Al? Did you know that -

Yes, friend. I know all of it. And you're all super fucking valid for pointing it out.

... But maybe all of you aren't seasoned Trekkies like me. Maybe not all of you gorgeous people understand the true significance of this.

Or maybe you just want a definitive way to win the argument of "are these two fucking?"

But either way, I'm here to help, and to tell you why, amongst all the absurdly homoerotic text of this film, this moment? Might be the gayest of them all.

Now, we must start by saying that although you wouldn't know it from the bullshit Abrams films, these two:

Are the fathers of gay fanfiction. Spock and Kirk here are the reason you're living in the fantastic timeline where you can write/read men fucking without any other shred of plot and that this is a legitimate and normalised internet experience - everyone say thank you, iconic papas. These guys were so homoerotically coded that even in the 60s, the era of wondrously overdramatic performances of all kinds and fairly prevalent homophobia, The Girlies still took notice, still started mailing each other fics and making zines and being just hugely excited at the thought of these two getting space-married. They are fandom as we know it today's beginning, and seventy years later they're still an enduringly popular ship on AO3. (You should all go and watch Amok Time, by the way. Contains the Honda Odyessy scene of the 60s, except there's weird biology and wrestling and just go and put it on your screens, thank me later. They fucked on that planet.)

Anyway, these two were as close as early colour TV could ever allow two men to be, deepening their *coughs* friendship almost every single episode or film - Trek's creator Gene Roddenberry even gave them a unique word in Spock's Vulcan language, with the meaning of 'friend, brother, lover.' (And if that isn't ringing any Poolverine bells, I'm not actually sure what you want out of this post. Enjoy it anyway, love you.)

... And then we get to 1982's The Wrath of Khan, and to that moment that every iconic screen couple must face - the ol' classic, it's you or me and I won't let it be you.

Sure, the set-up's a little different here - the chamber Spock's in is filled with radiation, and the scene's quieter, softer. And Kirk isn't a mutant so he can't smash his way in, he can just sit there and inwardly die as his emotional support Vulcan does.

... But you get where I'm coming from here. Ryan Reynolds doesn't take a million other potential love scenes from across the cinematic ages - no, he takes this. What is for many the romantic acknowledgement of a whole generation. The humble and desperately sweet beginning of it everything we fans know and love nowadays. The most ambiguously romantic homosexual relationship in television, directly comparative to what is now arguably the most ambiguously romantic homosexual relationship in cinema. And lest we forget, Wade doesn't believe in a fourth wall - this is a conscious choice, both in canon and in the writer's room.

Oh it's so clever and so beautiful a girl could weep. Ryan just introduced the MCU to the gays, just as Kirk and Spock did all those years ago to the masses of the time.

And then there's what it means.

This is the Vulcan salute, created to mean either 'live long and prosper' or 'peace and long life' - it's used more or less interchangeably.

But part of that's irrelevant when you're as immortal as these two.

So we're left with the sentiments of prosperity and peace, given to a man who up to this point can't imagine ever prospering again, is the furthest thing away from being at peace. Wade gives Logan the opportunity to go on, to find the things he's been lacking for so long now - things he has already helped him find. Spock tells Kirk during The Wrath that 'the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few,' and that's exactly what Wade's doing here - sacrificing himself for the greater good of his friends and his newly beloved, however much it will hurt them all.

And that's lovely, and poignant, and character-growing, and I think we all would have been content to leave it at that and have our noble sacrifice, however much we would have wept. Kirk goes on to find the remnants of Spock's soul in the next film in the series, to bring him essentially back from the dead because he felt it was more than his own soul's worth not to have done... which, again, ringing a bell anyone?

Because Logan, in not so many words, tells dear Wade to fuck right off, and we get this.

What we've got here is a direct translation of one of cinema's gayest moments, made somehow infinitely more gay. A true achievement here - I genuinely think I spontaneously acquired tetanus in the cinema for a good minute, my jaw dropped so hard on seeing this. The pillars are the same colour as Kirk and Spock's original uniforms, for fuck's sake. I'm dying out here.

What we've done here is create narrative equality. The whole film's kinda done that leading up to this anyway - they're both mentally fucked up men who can't die, who are constantly dying anyway, who are evenly-matched in battle and both enjoy Honda fucking, who have forged a real love even as they piss each other off at every turn.

But here, they place one another in narrative equality for the first time. It's not about a sacrifice, not now, even though they're assuming it is one - it's about what should be done. It's about righting wrongs, being heroes, being together because every option other than that is unacceptable, because neither understands quite how to lose anyone else. They've both made the same choice, and that's not to let the other die alone.

It's about holding hands and loving and never letting go, even if it kills them.

... It's just about the most romantic and gorgeous thing I've ever fucking seen.

There are no more instances of masks, once they're done in this station. They don't need them any longer; they will never need them again.

And that's only emphasised by the parting shot we get of this... almost directly after Vanessa and Wade share a final sweet look.

I don't know, man. It's almost like the true conclusion is hidden behind the acceptable masquerade. Imagine that in the MCU, folks.

They've taken one of the most intimate and sweet moments in screen history, and made even more glorious.

They did The Wrath of Khan better than The Wrath of Khan did it.

And that's... that's gay. That's just about the gayest thing they could ever have done, and I adore it to the smallest pieces.

So remember, the next time your friends disbelieve you... show 'em this. Show them that they redid the very beginnings of slash fandom, and did it better.

(And then you can add on that they now live in a one-bed with their grandma, daughter and dog, and will do for the rest of their lives. Kirk and Spock didn't even get THAT shit.)

[astrophileous]

Every Single Day

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Synopsis: When his daughter demands him to tell the story of how the two of you met, Spencer can't help but oblige.

Warning(s): dad spencer🥰, established relationship (eventually), parent-child relationships, alcohol consumption, brief interaction with a douchebag, made-up astronomy facts, made-up places, idk if there's any cursing but I'll throw it in here to be safe, implications of sex and nsfw themes (minors be advised), pregnancy, mentions of illness, mentions and/or implications of character death, topics of loss and grief, angst and fluff because I love the best of both worlds👍 (pls lmk if I missed anything)

Word Count: 7700-ish

Author's Note: hi 👋 I'm back again with another dad!spencer fic bc apparently I'm a sucker for him. I got a lil carried away with this one lol but anyways, I'm also writing this for the meet cute challenge hosted by the amazing and talented @imagining-in-the-margins so pls go head to her profile and show some love cause she's a peach ❤️ don't forget to leave a LIKE+COMMENT+REBLOG

Criminal Minds Masterlist

The air smelled of freshly brewed coffee. Against the wind, shades of crimson and orange swayed on the trees. Fallen leaves crunched underneath his feet to the cadence of his leisured steps.

Two deep breaths, in and out. Spencer Reid greeted autumn with the deep longing of an old friend.

Next to him walked a source of light bigger than the sun, jumping and bouncing excitedly on the sidewalk. Her tiny fingers emitted warmth inside of his hand. There was a skip to her step that reminded him of the innocence he had long lost. The innocence she now possessed.

Spencer loved this little girl beyond everything he had ever known.

"Puddle, Dee."

The tiny bundle of joy jumped to escape the small pool of water, grinning up at her father, who then began ruffling her hair until she evaded his onslaught with a shriek.

"Daddy?"

"Yes, Pumpkin?"

"You never told me how you met Mommy."

Spencer glanced down at the 6-year-old, dressed gorgeously in her favorite floral dress, complete with a sweater that had entailed a hearty discussion about humans' perception of cold. It was only after he bribed her with the promise of a chocolate cupcake from Wakey Bakey did Spencer finally convince her to wear the woolen piece of clothing.

His daughter stared at him with a radiant smile peeking out behind a curtain of hair. A smile which Spencer always argued had belonged to you, even though the rest of Diana Aurora Reid was the splitting image of her beloved father.

"Surely I've told you before, Dee."

"Nuh-uh."

"Of course I have."

"No, Daddy. You haven't."

"Pumpkin, you know I don't forget stuff ever," Spencer said, looking at the little girl who was swaying along to the rhythm of her footsteps. "I used to tell you that story all the time. Back when you were still a baby."

Just as predicted, Diana let out a dramatic gasp as if Spencer had uttered the most offensive thing known to mankind; like claiming the earth was actually flat, for example. Spencer couldn't contain his grin upon seeing her reaction.

"But Daddy, that was so long ago!"

"Do you not remember, Dee?"

Diana shook her head.

"Fine. But Mommy must've told you the story already, right?"

"She has, but--"

"But?"

"But I wanna hear it from you."

Little Diana knew that her father could never resist her puppy dog eyes, especially garnished with that adorable pout on top. Once upon a time, you declared it sickeningly cute and annoying whenever Spencer would pull the same trick on you. When Dee started doing the same to him, you had simply laughed and kissed his cheek, letting him get a sweet taste of his own medicine.

Spencer smiled at the young girl next to him, squeezing her nose and relishing in the gleeful squeal that echoed from her chest.

"What do you wanna hear, Pumpkin?"

Diana held her chin, seemingly deep in contemplation before deciding, "Everything, Dad! I wanna hear it from the start."

"The start, huh?" Spencer hummed thoughtfully, his mind already reeling back to the first moment he ever laid eyes on you.

The story began on yet another ordinary Friday night.

Luck was on the BAU's side when the team managed to wrap the case they had been working all week just before Friday afternoon. By the time the sun was setting, their jet was already high up in the sky, en route from the state of Delaware to Quantico, Virginia. Spencer was looking forward to going home at a reasonable hour for once--maybe catching up on the four reading materials he had promptly pushed aside after his team was called to Delaware to work on the latest case--but that plan dissipated when Derek Morgan suddenly appeared by his side.

"Drinks. Tonight. Everyone's coming, and I'm not taking no for an answer," Derek said before dragging a reluctant Spencer away with him, ignoring the protests that the younger man kept grumbling under his breath all the way to the team's favorite bar.

Spencer just hadn't known it yet, but later down the road, he would spend the rest of eternity thanking Derek Morgan for dragging him along that night.

The Friday night crowd at Shaw's was borderline brutal, but fortunately for the team, a booth in the corner became vacant the moment they stepped into the threshold.

Two hours later, Spencer's fellow teammates weren't even close to calling it a night. The last chorus of "I Wanna Dance with Somebody" by Whitney Houston had just finished blasting from the speakers when Derek sauntered back to the booth, twirling a flushed Penelope Garcia in front of him. Spencer slipped out of the booth to allow them in--preferring to stay on the most outer seat instead of crammed between his tipsy friends' bodies--before sitting down once more.

"Hey, Genius," Penelope called, waving her empty beer glass in front of Spencer's face. "Be a darling and get me a refill, will you?"

"Garcia--" Spencer quickly snatched the glass from her hand before she could send it smashing against someone's head, "--are you sure you want a refill?"

Penelope scrunched her nose. "Why do you ask?"

"Because I think you're plenty drunk already."

"I'm not that drunk," Penelope denied, giggling when an unexpected hiccup interrupted her slurred words. "Derek, tell the beautiful Doctor I'm not that drunk."

"She's not that drunk, Reid." Derek grinned. "While you're at it..."

Spencer could only sigh when Derek slid his own empty glass across the table.

It was past 10 o'clock at night, and the crowd of people in the establishment seemed to have doubled in the couple of hours that the team had been there. Spencer had to squeeze himself through the ocean of patrons flooding the bar, barely able to move his limbs without other people's arms or elbows bumping against his ribcage.

Spencer was waiting for the bartender to complete his order when he happened to glance towards his right, catching sight of the concealed panic that triggered every profiler bone in his body.

Any other person would have taken one look at your face and presumed that everything was alright, but Spencer knew better. He recognized the frantic movement of your eyes, the tight press of your lips, and the impatient knocking of your fingertips on the counter. He only caught the tail end of your voice before discreetly listening to what the man you were talking to had to say.

"--so, unfortunately, I can't."

"I told you, Baby. My Veyron runs at over 260 miles per hour. We can go to Red Clover Hill and get you back home safely by twelve. It's simple math," the guy slurred smugly.

"Actually, that's not true."

The drunken man turned around at Spencer's interruption.

"Excuse me?"

"The Red Clover Hill State Park is approximately 229 miles away from here. Though theoretically, you could drive your Veyron at its maximum velocity, which is around 268 miles per hour, it's very unlikely you'll be able to maintain that speed for the entirety of the ride, considering the terrain you would have to go through between here and there. The fastest you can probably get to the park is in 60 minutes, give or take, and that's being generous. You would have to drive back to D.C. as soon as you arrive at the park if you wish to be back by twelve. It's just realistically impossible."

The man in front of him couldn't be less impressed by Spencer's lengthy rant.

"And who the hell are you?" the drunken guy said, pinning Spencer with a stare that was clearly supposed to be intimidating.

Spencer didn't even flinch. "No one. Just a guy who happens to know a lot about... simple math."

Your loud cough tore Spencer's attention away from the drunk man and towards you, who looked ready to burst from the laughter you were holding underneath. Even under the terrible lighting of the bar, Spencer could still pinpoint the hint of unspoken amusement glimmering inside your eyes.

"Sorry, Bill," you said to the man. "I really do need to be back home by twelve tonight. Maybe some other time?"

Bill didn't need to be told twice. He received the message loud and clear.

Spencer watched the other man scurry away, tail between his legs, before your charming smile enraptured him once more.

"Thank you for that. I was beginning to think he might never leave."

"Happy to help." Spencer smiled thinly, scratching the back of his neck even though the spot wasn't itchy. "What did, uh, why did he want to take you to Red Clover Hill, of all places?"

"Oh. That was... partially my fault." You grinned innocently. "I didn't know he was gonna be an insufferable drunk when he came over, and I was in the middle of watching this."

You pulled out a silver tablet from your lap. Spencer took a peek at the screen, seeing what looked like a live feed of the night sky--over North Carolina, judging by the visible constellations on the vast scene--stamped with the day's date at the bottom of the footage.

"You're watching the Roux-Nell?" Spencer deduced after gathering the facts: the live feed of North Carolina sky, the mention of Red Clover Hill State Park that harbored one of the highest grounds in North Carolina, including a collection of some of the most sophisticated telescopes in the country; you must have been planning to view that night's sighting of the Roux-Nell comet, its first time since the last one in 1927, and only its third one in history.

"Yes! How did you... don't tell me. You're an avid astronomy fan, too?"

Spencer's responding smile only made you beam even brighter.

"Anyway, that guy earlier, Bill, he approached me and asked what I was watching. So, I started talking about the Roux-Nell and about how I wish I was at Red Clover Hill right now since everyone keeps saying it's one of the best spots to view tonight's sighting. I thought he was genuinely interested until he started talking about his Veyron this, his Veyron that. I didn't even realize until a whole five minutes later that he was talking about his car!"

When you finally finished explaining, your eyes locked with Spencer's hazel ones before you seemed to cower shyly.

"Sorry. I can get a little excited when I'm talking sometimes."

"No! Don't be, it was--" Spencer stopped himself before he could complete his sentence.

What was he about to say?

Insightful? Entertaining?

Endearing?

Eventually, Spencer opted to settle for something safe and simple. "I get that way too, sometimes. A lot of the times, actually. So you don't have to apologize."

The fire flickered back inside your gaze following Spencer's admission. It burned brilliantly beneath the kindness you radiated, forged by the sharp intelligence he could see shining out of your eyes.

"So--" Spencer cleared his throat, attempting to shift the conversation in order to distract his racing mind, "--why did you tell him you needed to be back home by twelve?"

"Oh, that? I told him I'm donating blood tomorrow morning, so I need to at least get seven hours of sleep for the night."

"That's a clever lie."

You tilted your head slightly at his statement. "What makes you think it's a lie?"

"Because you're here. Nobody drinks alcohol before they're supposed to donate blood."

Your eyes flashed with surprise. "Not bad, Mister. You're very perceptive."

Spencer shrugged, trying not to appear too flustered by your casual compliment. "It's what I do."

You raised an inquisitive eyebrow at his reply.

"I'm a profiler."

"Profiler?"

"With the FBI."

"FBI, huh?" You hummed, something akin to intrigue swirling in your eyes. "So, you study criminals? Trying to decipher their way of thinking, why they do what they do. Dissect their past history for any related trauma, maybe even pinpoint a psychological stressor that could trigger a criminal behavior, that kind of stuff?"

Upon hearing your response, it was Spencer's turn to be intrigued. "Exactly that kind of stuff. How did you...?"

Grinning sheepishly, you pulled a professional badge out of your pocket, holding it up in front of Spencer so he could see the emblem covering its surface.

"Edgewater Psychology Center," Spencer read the words aloud, understanding dawning on him as he found your eyes once more. "You're a psychologist."

"Guilty as charged."

Spencer couldn't fight off his amused smile. "That explains it, then."

"You know," you began, leaning further against the bar counter to shorten the distance between you and Spencer, "I've never met a profiler in person before. Most of my colleagues, they have consulted on a federal case at least once in the past few years, but the bureau hasn't yet contacted me so far."

"Really?" Spencer took a step forward, closing the distance by a mere inch. "Sounds like a big loss for us. We're idiots."

You bit down on your bottom lip to suppress a smile, your gaze flicking between Spencer's own lips and eyes. For the shortest of minutes, nothing else existed in Spencer's world but you; your smile, your scent, and your kind eyes. You were a magnet carved out of his wildest dreams, and Spencer, well, he might as well have been made out of the purest of irons.

But before Spencer could get lost deeper in your relentless gaze, a shout of his name slashed through the air from across the bar. Back at the booth, Derek was waving his hand frantically in the air, stopping only when Spencer signaled him to sit back down and that he was returning in a minute.

"I have to go." He smiled tentatively, apologetically.

"Oh?"

Spencer tried not to revel too much over the small dip of disappointment at the edge of your voice.

"My friends. They, uh--"

"Oh, no, it's alright. You don't have to explain," you told him gently. "See you around, Mr. Profiler. Hope you have a great night."

With that said, you went back to watching the live feed on your tablet while Spencer, begrudgingly, trudged across the room with two refilled beer glasses in his hands, back to where his friends--minus Rossi and Hotch who were conversing among themselves at one of the standing tables--were waiting.

"Finally," Derek groaned once Spencer slammed the glasses down on the table.

"Who was that?" Emily asked as he slipped into the booth.

"Huh?" Spencer followed Emily's gaze, finding you perched up at the very end of it. "No one."

"No one?" Emily's eyebrows rose. "She didn't seem like no one from where I was sitting."

Spencer took an insanely large sip of his leftover beer.

"Holy shit, you like her, " Derek muttered. "He likes her. Pretty boy's got a crush."

"No, I don't."

"Yeah? Tell that to those red cheeks of yours." JJ chuckled.

Instinctively, Spencer touched his own cheeks as if he could physically feel the change of colors on his skin.

"I'm just tipsy," he tried to reason.

A collective scoff reverberated through the entire booth.

"What's her name, Spence?" JJ asked.

When a full minute ticked by without so much as a grunt of acknowledgment from Spencer, Penelope reached out and slapped the man right across his shoulder.

"Ow!"

"You didn't ask for her name?!" Penelope exclaimed.

"It didn't come up!"

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard you say, Reid," Emily noted before sipping her margarita.

"Nope. I'm not having this. Not tonight. Look at me, Sunshine." Penelope grabbed Spencer's face in her hands, forcing him to stare directly into her glasses-rimmed eyes. "I'm not letting you spend the rest of the night like this. You will get your cute little tushy out there and talk to that girl. You will get her name and also her number, maybe even ask the nice pretty lady out while you're at it. Now, have I made myself clear?"

Spencer barely managed to swallow his nerves before he offered Penelope two tiny nods.

"Good. I don't wanna see your face back here if you're not at least pocketing her phone number. Now shoo."

Penelope sent Spencer flying across the bar with a dramatic stumble. By the time he reached your side, Spencer was nothing less than a stuttering mess and a thundering heart.

"Hi," Spencer breathed out once he found your welcoming eyes.

"Um, hi?"

"I'm Spencer."

"Okay... Spencer?"

"Reid. Spencer Reid." He cleared his throat. "Sorry, it's just... I realized while I was sitting over there--well, my friends actually made me realize--that I, uh, never got your name. Which, you know, of course I never got it because I didn't ask. So, I was coming here, wondering if maybe you'd like to give it... to me?"

You blinked once. Twice.

By the third blink, Spencer wished the earth would open up and devour him whole.

"You want my name?"

Spencer nodded.

"What are you planning to do with it?"

"Call you?" At your bemused expression, Spencer quickly elaborated, "Not call like call. I meant referring. Yep. That's it. Although, maybe if you want to, I would love to call you as well. Sometime. And perhaps, you know, ask you out... on a date?"

Spencer swallowed the lump of nervousness in his throat. In front of him, you were pretty, even with the conspicuous scrutiny in your eyes as they assessed Spencer as if he was some sort of an enigma. Embarrassment burned hotter through his veins with every second that passed by. He was merely two exhales of breath away from dashing out of the door when you finally spoke up.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

Smiling, you produced an old receipt seemingly out of thin air and asked the bartender to lend you a pen, scribbling something down as soon as you had it between your fingers. When the tiny piece of paper emigrated to Spencer's hand, the Cheshire cat in him jumped out once he noticed the ten digit numbers written neatly underneath a name he could only assume as yours.

"Will that be enough, Spencer Reid?"

"For now," Spencer replied before grabbing his wallet and shoving the paper containing your name inside. "I'll call you."

"You better."

After Spencer's departure, you returned your attention back to the tablet in front of you. Barely five minutes later, though, your serene watching session was once again interrupted. Only this time, it was by the ringing of your phone.

"Hello?"

"Hi, this is Spencer."*

Surprised, you swiveled your head left and right, stopping once you spotted Spencer standing on the other side of the room. His eyes were trained towards you, and behind him, a booth of four people seemed to have directed their attention at you as well.

"Spencer?"

"I know this is very untoward," he began, "but would you like to go out with me?"

"Boy, you certainly don't waste any time at all, do you?"

"I believe it's called being efficient," he countered, making you laugh. "So, what do you say?"

"Sure," you answered, enjoying the way Spencer beam at you from across the room. "I would love to, Spencer."

A breeze blew gently against Spencer's face, caressing the tendrils of curly hair that had fallen over his forehead. Diana's little fingers started to grip his tighter as the wind strengthened.

"Did you take Mommy on that date, Daddy?"

"Of course," Spencer replied, reminiscing the exact day when he had picked you up in your apartment, sweat glistening on his palm as he clutched the bouquet of flowers in his right hand. "We went to see a Mark Rothko exhibition at the National Gallery of Art, and before I took her home, we stopped by Wakey Bakey to buy some lemon tarts."

Diana gasped. "Wakey Bakey?!"

The little girl's reaction compelled a chuckle from Spencer's chest. "Yes, Pumpkin. Wakey Bakey."

"What happened after that, Daddy?"

"What do you think happened after that, Dee?"

"Um--" Diana pursed her lips, deeply lost in thought, "--did you become girlfriend and boyfriend?"

"Yes, we did."

"And you got married?!"

Spencer laughed at Diana's apparent excitement over the prospect of her parents getting married. "We did, yeah, eventually. After I proposed to her."

"Oh! Oh! The proposal!" Diana exclaimed, jumping up and down in the middle of the sidewalk without a care in the world. Spencer had to tug her back towards him before she could harm herself or the other pedestrians. "Tell me! Tell me! Tell me about the proposal, Daddy!"

"You wanna hear the story about how I proposed to your mother?"

"Yes, please!"

Chuckling to himself, Spencer mumbled a quick fine before his gears had started turning towards a specific memory in his mind. Spencer was sure, even without his eidetic ability, there was no way he could have ever forgotten about the day in question.

The day you agreed to have him as your forever.

Spencer had fallen in love with you during the first date, right around the time of yet another one of his animated ramblings, where instead of shaming him to shut the hell up, you had simply stared at him in awe and said, "You're pretty when you talk."

The young agent was sure he couldn't get rid of the blush adorning his cheeks for at least an entire week.

By the time the fifth date rolled around, Spencer was absolutely certain that you were the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. It wasn't a surprise, then, that a few weeks before your first anniversary came up, Spencer had pocketed a diamond ring with a promise of forever on the tip of his tongue.

Combing the courage to take this historical leap was easy. Difficult was trying to conjure up the perfect proposal plan that he would deem worthy enough for someone like you. There were no rooms for mistakes. Spencer wanted everything to be perfect because he believed you deserved nothing less.

Which was why, in moments of desperation, Spencer ended up turning to his fellow teammates in the FBI for help.

"I don't know if I'm the right person to ask about this, Spence. Will only ever proposed to me after finding out about Henry, and we only got married after I thought he was gonna die on the field," JJ explained. "It was never the most ideal of situations, but I would never change a thing even if I could."

Unsatisfied with JJ's answer, Spencer proceeded to find the BAU's tech genius in her bat cave.

"Go big or go home, my friend," Penelope said following a 10-minute hysteria she erupted into upon learning about Spencer's intent to propose. "Splash out on the bottle. Don't hold back on the grandeur. Spend all of your savings if you have to."

"Garcia--"

"Fine, maybe not all of your savings. You should leave some for the wedding."

Spencer spent weeks mulling over Penelope's advice.

Working as an FBI agent didn't pay as well as most people thought it would, and Spencer's tendency to collect first edition books wasn't exactly an affordable hobby. It meant that as much as Spencer wanted a proposal filled with the greatest grandeur--just as Penelope had suggested--he didn't have a fat enough balance in his bank account to make his ideal proposal concept a reality.

And Spencer probably would have spent the limited fund in his savings down to its very last cent, had it not been for Derek catching him browsing through the internet for the cost of a hot air balloon ride.

"I just want to give her the perfect proposal," Spencer admitted after he finished revealing everything.

"Kid, it doesn't matter," Derek said. "Don't you see? She doesn't care about hot air balloons or any kind of grandeur. She only cares about you. There's no such thing as a perfect proposal. You're just using it as an excuse to put off asking her 'cause you're scared of what she's gonna say. But you don't need to. You two are so devastatingly in love, it's disgusting."

In the end, grandeur wasn't even present in the room when Spencer decided to pop the question.

On that particular night, Spencer arrived in his apartment just a few minutes before midnight. His aching muscles were calling for sleep as he toed his shoes off, but his footsteps soon ceased when he caught sight of his dimly lit living room.

You were fast asleep on the couch, face illuminated by the television light. Spencer's movements were careful as he knelt in front of you, studying the soft and hard edges of your features like historians would an ancient scripture. He couldn't help it when his fingers reached out on their own accord, brushing the softest of touches against the high point of your cheekbone. Inside its cage, Spencer's heart started to stir.

You were so beautiful.

Even after one year of being together, Spencer was often still taken back by how lovely you were. He adored every detail of your being, most fervently the scars that littered your skin in a constellation of stars. All of the places in your body where your scrutiny had wandered in a fleet of insecurity were the same places that Spencer wanted to worship for the rest of his life. In his eyes, you were eternally magnificent, and this thought clouded Spencer's mind as he went to shake your shoulder gently.

"Spencer?" Your groggy voice sounded meek in the comfort of Spencer's apartment, the same one he had been sharing with you since you moved in three months prior. Your lips tilted with the tiniest hint of a smile at the sight of him, and Spencer thought he would melt when your fingers instinctively reached for his face. "You're back."

"I'm back," he confirmed, leaving a trail of kisses on your palm. "Why aren't you in bed, my love?"

"I was waiting for you," you admitted. "I have something to say."

"Really? Me too."

"Hm?" Curiosity flared in the center of your eyes. "You first."

Smiling, Spencer leaned down to steal a quick kiss before saying, "Marry me."

Your breath hitched.

After a few seconds of silence, your nervous laughter filled his ears. "Right. That's a nice one, Spencer. Very funny."

"I'm not joking, sweetheart."

Spencer reached into the inside pocket of his satchel, pulling out the velvet box that had weighed down his bag by several grams for the past few weeks. Any remnant of sleep you still had in your eyes was instantly washed away the moment he opened the box to reveal a pretty ring sitting inside.

"I've had this for a while now," Spencer admitted. "I kept putting off asking you because I believed I wanted everything to be perfect, until Derek knocked some sense into my head and made me realize that I was just afraid of taking the leap. He's right, as always, but don't tell him I said that."

Spencer paused at your teary laugh, relishing in the melodic sound that made his heart nearly burst in two. "My love, I don't need the perfect proposal when you're the promise of a perfect life. Any life with you is the one I want to live for the rest of my time, and I want to start living that life from this point onward. What do you say, sweetheart? Will you marry me?"

Spencer never thought the word yes could sound so incredibly spectacular.

The celebration had started right away, commemorated by the shedding of clothes from each other's bodies, finalized by panting breaths and entangled limbs beneath rumpled sheets. You lay on the bed with your palm on Spencer's chest, his own hand tracing invisible patterns on the vast canvass of your skin.

Spencer watched as you stared at the ring circling your finger. "Do you like it? We can exchange it for a new one if--"

"Spencer Reid, don't you dare."

"Apologies, ma'am." He grinned, continuing the random patterns he was drawing on your skin before he spoke again, "By the way, you said you also have something to tell me."

You looked up at him with a blinding smile before scooting out of Spencer's arm and reaching for the nightstand. When Spencer saw what you had rummaged out of the bedside drawer, Spencer thought his heart had forgotten how to beat.

"Is that--"

"Surprise," you murmured giddily, handing over the object in your hand into Spencer's awaiting palm. "I found out yesterday, but I wanted to tell you in person."

Spencer sat up on the bed, staring with disbelief at the small item in his hand. He only realized he had started to cry when a drop of tears fell down, blurring the two tiny pink lines in his vision.

"This is... you're..."

"I'm pregnant, Spencer," you professed.

Just an hour earlier, Spencer thought the word yes was the best thing he could ever hear falling from your mouth. But as he held you in his arms, his lips catching yours once more in a heated kiss, Spencer realized that you had many more surprising admissions waiting to be said out loud.

And Spencer couldn't wait to spend the rest of his life listening to every single one of them.

"Daddy, are you saying I was already in Mommy's belly when you proposed to her?"

"Yes, you were, Pumpkin," Spencer said, smiling at the blatant curiosity in Little Dee's eyes. "You were a surprise we didn't see coming."

Diana's responding smile was a picture of satisfaction. The father-daughter pair continued to walk down the street until Dee's voice tore through the silence once again, "Daddy?"

"Hm?"

"I thought you said a man and a woman can only make babies after they're married."

Spencer's footsteps halted on the pavement.

The silence must have stretched for only a partial of a minute, but the expectant stare Dee was nailing against his face, along with the internal panic that had short-circuited Spencer's brain made it seem as if the world had skidded into a standstill. Frantic eyes darted everywhere for a chance at rectification, and Spencer couldn't stop the words from tumbling off his lips when he saw the worn-down sign of a florist up ahead.

"Dee, would you like to buy some flowers for Mommy?"

The little girl squealed an excited yes before skipping the few steps left towards the flower shop. Spencer let out a relieved breath at having narrowly escaped such a harrowing crisis.

Once Spencer stepped into the shop, a multitude of fragrances immediately enveloped his surroundings. Diana was lingering back and forth around the vibrant displays when Spencer approached, her tiny eyebrows frowning in the most adorable way as she assessed the rows of flowers in front of her.

"Have you decided yet, Pumpkin?"

"Can we get some of Mommy's favorites, Dad?" Diana requested, pointing her tiny finger at the display of flowers she knew to be your favorites. "And then we can add some of these daisies, too!"

Spencer couldn't fight the smile blossoming on his face as he asked the florist to assemble a bouquet made out of daisies--Dee's favorite type of flowers, the same one printed all over the dress she was wearing--along with your favorite flowers in the center. Diana stared in awe at the deft work administered by the florist, her mouth forming an "O" once the bouquet was wrapped and ready to go.

"Do you think Mommy will like them, Daddy?"

"I know she will, Pumpkin," Spencer answered earnestly, his memory replaying that first time he had come home bringing the same arrangement of flowers in his hand.

Spencer came home to the apartment in utter disarray, and yet, it still was the best view that he had ever witnessed in his entire life.

Ever since his office was transformed into a nursery, the books he previously kept in there had to be relocated to the living area. Most of them had gone by now--some donated, and some others sold at second-hand bookstores--but piles of them still littered in various corners of the room.

Apart from his mountainous collection of books, small trinkets also covered every available surface of the place. From the empty nursing bottles in the kitchen sink to the breast pump on the counter, and the tiny socks on the coffee table to the pacifier jammed between the sofa cushions; every single one of them contributed to the mess that his apartment had become. Yet as he paused to inspect every inch of the place, Spencer couldn't find any other emotion besides warmth flooding his chest.

Muffled footsteps padded towards the living room before you appeared from the hallway with a freshly bathed Diana in your arms. As soon as your eyes locked with his, the crease between your eyebrows automatically vanished.

"You're home."

"I'm home." Spencer grinned before welcoming you into his embrace.

He stole a quick kiss from your lips before bending down to smother a 7-month-old Diana who yelped in glee when Spencer began attacking her with kisses all over her face.

"She's been fussy since yesterday," you told him. "I think she missed you."

"Did you, baby? Did you miss Daddy?" Spencer cooed. "I can take her for a few while you rest. You look tired. Are you feeling okay?"

"Gee, Spence. What a way to a girl's heart."

"You know what I meant, sweetheart."

"It's fine, Spencer. I just got a headache, but it's all better now that you're here."

Spencer smiled as he kissed your free knuckles. "If it's any consolation, you're still the most heavenly creature that I've ever laid eyes upon."

A sneaky laughter rumbled past your chest. "Fine. I'll let you go just this once," you said before letting Spencer take a yawning Diana into his arms.

As Spencer carried Dee towards the couch, you noticed a bouquet of flowers lying next to the kitchen sink in the corner of your eye. You glanced at the young genius with a discreet smile before aptly transferring the flowers into a vase.

"These are pretty," you commented, joining your family in the living room. You put the vase in the middle of the coffee table amidst the books and various baby clutters before dropping yourself against Spencer's side.

"They're your favorites."

"I know. As usual." You smiled affectionately. "And daisies. You've never bought me daisies before."

Spencer's eyes gleamed. "I bought the daisies for Dee."

"Oh?"

"I think daisies are gonna be her favorite."

"You do, huh?"

"One hundred percent."

Spencer's eyes looked up from Diana to you then, whose own gaze had been kept intently on your husband and daughter. Darkness embellished the area underneath your eyes, and Spencer couldn't help but count the lines of fatigue that seemed to have multiplied on the contours of your face. Even then, Spencer thought you had never looked more stunning than you did at that moment; as his wife, the mother of his child, and the woman who owned the sole reign of his heart.

Confusion wandered into your eyes when you noticed Spencer's stubborn stare. A surprised squawk escaped your lips as Spencer unexpectedly captured them in a rather long kiss. When he pulled back, Spencer looked the very image of a man who was drunk on love.

"I love you. You know that, right?" Spencer confessed as he squeezed your hand twice in his palm.

"Spencer, what's going on with you?"

"Nothing. I just--" he paused for a chuckle, seemingly trying to find the right words to say before he could continue, "--I owe my life to you, sweetheart. For all of the times you have pulled me out of the darkness, to the light you've brought into my life. You and Dee are the reason I keep on breathing. Without the two of you, I'm nothing."

"Spencer," you breathed out. "Where did all of this come from?"

"I don't know." He shook his head. "I just wanted you to know how grateful I am to have you in my life and that you've brought Dee into ours. Everything worth fighting for about me is because of you."

The telltale signs of tears began to cast a shadow over your eyes. You pressed your hand to Spencer's cheek, feeling the rugged sensation of his newly shaved stubble stroking your skin. Spencer melted into the warmth of your touch.

"You're giving me far too much credit here, Spencer," you whispered. "Everything you are has always been your own doing rather than mine. All I ever did was cheer you on from the sideline. You would still have become the person that you are today even if I weren't in your life."

Spencer physically shuddered at your last statement. "Don't say that. I can't even begin to imagine a life without you in it."

"Well, even if such day does come, when I won't be a part of your life anymore, I know you're gonna be just fine. Because you'll have Dee with you--" you stroked Diana's head lovingly, "--and I know that the two of you will give each other enough love and strength that you won't even notice I'm not around anymore."

The frown on Spencer's face deepened.

"You're not allowed to leave me. Ever," Spencer decided childishly.

"Fine. I won't. But you have to remember--" you brought your palm towards Spencer's chest, feeling each rhythmic thrum of his heart which seemed to flutter ever so slightly underneath your fingers, "--I'll be right here if you need me. Always."

Spencer's own hand landed on top of your hand, entwining your fingers together without ever tearing his fierce gaze away from yours.

"Always."

The sun was shining down in flimsy rays when Spencer and Dee finally walked past the familiar gate. Glimmers of gold sneaked past the reddish leaves on branches before falling upon the ground.

Next to him, Diana was humming a melody that Spencer recognized from one of your specially curated playlists. Her little hands struggled to carry the gigantic bouquet that she couldn't wait to present to you. It didn't matter that the bouquet itself was nearly as tall as she was, Diana still refused to let Spencer assist her.

"I wanna give Mommy the flowers myself," she had told Spencer in a manner that reminded him too much of your own stubbornness.

After a couple more minutes of walking, Spencer's reverie was soon broken by the excited squeal coming from the little girl beside him.

"Mommy! Mommy!"

Diana dashed into a sprint before words of warning could fall from Spencer's lips. He watched intensely as Diana's little feet moved upon the ocean of fallen leaves on the ground. Her tight grip around the bouquet never wavered even when she ran up the grassed hill, all the way towards the destination in her mind.

All the way towards the headstone with your name written on it.

When Spencer finally got there, Diana was kneeling next to your grave with panting breaths, but the smile stretched on her lips was the biggest one that Spencer had ever seen.

"Hi, Mommy. I'm back with Daddy," Diana announced. "Daddy, go say hi to Mommy."

"Hello, my love." Spencer smiled before taking a seat next to his daughter.

"We brought flowers, Mommy! They're your favorites. I added daisies to make them prettier." Diana beamed before putting the bouquet against your headstone. "You're not gonna believe what happened in class yesterday!"

As Diana animatedly began to recount the funny incident in her classroom--somehow involving a boy named Patrick and a cup of slushie--Spencer watched over her with a permanent smile on his lips. The little girl loved to talk--a trait she obviously acquired from both of her parents--and Spencer knew just how much you used to adore listening to Dee's rambling at any time of day.

It must have been at least ten minutes later when Diana's story eventually whirled to an end. Her attention instantly shifted to the family who was paying their own respect just two headstones over, a small squeak of puppy tumbled from Dee's lips before she dashed towards the boy with a golden retriever pup beside his legs.

Spencer shook his head affectionately at his daughter's antics.

"I know we were just here a couple of weeks ago, but Dee wanted to tell you about the slushie incident herself," he said. "And, well, I can never deny the chance to visit you, love."

A loud laughter boomed a few feet away. Spencer watched as Diana ran around jubilantly with the little boy and his dog. The boy's father waved at Spencer from the distance, which he replied with an acknowledging nod.

"She's getting so big, sweetheart. Sometimes, I just wanna stop time and keep her as my little girl forever. I wish you were around to see how much she's grown." Spencer smiled ruefully. "I can't believe that it's been more than a year since you were gone."

Spencer thought back to the last few moments you spent on this earth. How just a few months prior, the doctor had advised you to stop the treatment and take a rest at home instead.

The chemo isn't working, was what the doctor was really saying. You should be spending as much time as you can with your family.

So, that was exactly what you ended up doing.

Spencer had quit his job at the FBI shortly after you were diagnosed, opting to take a full-time job of teaching where the hours were more humane and reasonable. The day you were discharged from the hospital, Spencer made a vow to himself to make every day as memorable as he could, and he was keeping true to it. Those last few months were filled with countless road trips, an unforgettable weekend at Disneyland, and visits to various museums across the states. Spencer made sure that each day was charged with love and laughter, a perfect day culminated by an equally perfect night, with you falling asleep in the safety of his arms.

Until one morning, when Spencer woke up to your cold and lifeless body lying by his side.

"Do you remember what you told me once? About how Dee and I would never notice you were gone because we would have each other?" Spencer recalled. "You were wrong about that, sweetheart. Your absence is the first thing I notice every time I start my day. The moment I open my eyes, I notice that you aren't lying next to me on the bed like you're supposed to be. I notice the cold imprints on the sheets where your warmth used to linger. I notice you in every corner of our home, but most importantly, I notice you in Dee."

Spencer glanced at his little girl, playing and running around a pile of fallen leaves with her newfound friend and his pet dog. His heart floundered at the scene.

"Everyone keeps saying that she's an exact copy of me, but I see glimpses of you in her more and more every single day," Spencer admitted. "She's the only anchor I have left now, my love. Without her, I'm lost. I try constantly, with whatever strength still resides in me, to give her everything she would ever need. Shower her with every ounce of love I have left in my heart."

A lone tear cascaded down Spencer's cheek. He quickly erased it away with a wry chuckle.

"What I would do to have a minute with you again, my love. I hope you know I'd give my heart and soul to have those extra sixty seconds just to stare at your beautiful face. To hold you in my arms one last time. I try my best to fill the void that you left for Dee's sake. Some days are difficult, and I keep thinking about how much better it would be--how much better off she would be--if it were you here with her instead of me. I'd trade places with you if I could. I fear that all of me would never be enough for her, because she needs you. We both do."

Spencer inhaled a breath, forcing the imminent wave of tears from breaking the dam he had masterfully crafted since the moment you were gone. He promised a long time ago never to allow the grief to consume him.

He still had his daughter to think about.

"I'm beginning to think people are wrong when they say time makes everything better. The pain never lessens. It just becomes bearable with time. Dee makes it bearable," Spencer confessed. "I can only hope I'm doing the same for her."

"Daddy! Daddy!"

Spencer hurriedly wiped away any sign of tears from his face before he caught Diana in his arms. Her innocent laughter was a balm to the gaping wound in his chest, and Spencer allowed himself to bask in the bliss that his little girl brought to his life.

"What is it, Pumpkin?"

"Look what Brian's mom gave me!"

Spencer looked at her tiny hand to see a plastic daisy ring gracing one of her fingers. He looked up towards the family in the distance, mouthing a thank you to the mother who waved him off with a smile.

"It's very pretty, Dee."

"Like me?"

The young dad chuckled. "Yes, very much like you."

"Like Mommy, too?"

Spencer's smile softened. "Very much like Mommy, too. Yes."

The exhilarated smile Diana rewarded him could probably light up the entire state of Virginia at night.

Five minutes later, Spencer found himself bidding you a goodbye, with Diana promising to visit again very soon to give you an update over the slushie incident that supposedly got Patrick in a lot of trouble at school. The air was getting even chillier as the two walked the path they had taken after arriving at the cemetery. Spencer tugged Diana closer to his side once he saw the familiar gate lurking a few feet ahead, keeping her safe while simultaneously seeking her warmth.

"Daddy?" Dee's voice arose shyly once the pair had reached the main street.

"Yes, Pumpkin?"

"I miss Mommy," she admitted quietly.

Spencer's fingers instinctively tightened for a split second around his daughter's hand. "I know you do, Pumpkin. You just need to remember, even if she's not physically with us anymore, that she's always watching over you and keeping you safe."

Diana nodded her head understandingly. "Do you miss her, too, Daddy?"

"Every day, Dee." Spencer smiled, glancing back towards the gate of the cemetery behind him. "Every single day."

[fairysongs]

౨ৎ coming home too late﹕spencer reid .ᐟ

summary: based entirely on the song, coming home by beabadoobee. pure fluff.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

includes: soooo much fluff, spencer’s pov, spencer is in love with reader, reader is just as in love with him, very small mention of depression, reader uses she/her pronouns, reader loves to clean, established relationship, derek morgan is spencer and reader's #1 fan, did i mention spencer is in love?

word count: 1.7k

a/n: eeeek my second fic!! i got so happy writing this. maybe the most sickening sweet thing i ever did do. i love beabadoobee's music so much i kinda wanna write a million different things based on her songs. Anyways..!!! as always likes/reblogs/feedback appreciated :3

spencer reid had never felt more relieved to be sitting inside this jet than he was right now.

sure, he’s happy every single time his team is able to wrap up a case. he’s happy every single time they catch the bad guy. he’s happy every single time justice is brought to victims and their families. he’s happy every single time he gets to come home and see you. he’s happy every single time he notices the way your eyes light up when you see him walk through the door. he’s happy every single time you throw your arms around his neck and he gets to pick you up, inhaling your sweet scent as if he’d never be able to embrace you again.

but this time it was a little different. it was currently 6:54pm in california where the latest case was. meaning it was 9:54pm back home. it would take approximately five hours to fly home and another thirty minutes to drive to his apartment. meaning he wouldn’t step through his door until way after three in the morning and he knew you’d be sound asleep by then. and it was saturday, a day that never held much weight to him until he started living with you.

he found out that you grew up with a rather strict routine in your home. your parents deemed every saturday ‘cleaning day’. every saturday you did your weekly chores and that habit stuck with you as you moved on to live with college roommates, on your own and eventually with spencer.

he remembers when he first asked you to move in with him. you’d been dating for about a year and a half at that point. he brought it up in a rather nonchalant way and he was so thankful you were not a profiler and couldn’t tell how hard his heart was beating inside his chest as he started to ask.

“you know… you sleepover here a lot. i mean, you have your own drawer in my dresser, your own space in my closet…” he started one morning, sipping from his mug of sugary sweet coffee. “your skincare stuff in my bathroom, your special shampoos in my shower… your little treats stocked in my fridge…” his lips started twitching, trying to fight the stupid large smile that wanted to show on his face.

you hummed in response, your fingers tapping against your own mug that was full of tea. you hated coffee. when he learned that he bought a box of your favorite tea and kept it stocked in his kitchen. “are you… complaining?” you asked, voice sort of quiet with uncertainty.

he shook his head immediately, realizing he wasn’t being as straightforward as he assumed. “no!” his voice squeaked slightly, causing you to raise your eyebrows. “no… no, i was just… i mean, you spend so much time here and i really love it. i love you being here with me and i… if you wanted to move in i would… i mean, i want you to move in. if you want to. please.”

thankfully your heart was just as pretty as you were and you didn’t let him nervously ramble for too long. instead you walked over to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. you stood on your tiptoes and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. “relax. i’d love to, spencer. but i have to warn you, i’m quite a lot to deal with twenty-four seven…” he would just stare back at you, with nothing but love and admiration pouring from brown hues. he always thought you were so silly when you’d say things like that and he’d spend the rest of the morning telling you that while peppering sweet kisses to every inch of your skin.

he did learn very quickly just how serious you were about your routine. you woke up at six in the morning every saturday. you’d start in the bathroom, then make your way to the kitchen, then collect the dirty laundry from the week, then focus on organizing every little desk and shelf he had in his home. at first you wouldn’t let him help you, explaining that you didn’t want him to feel obligated in helping you with your own crazy little habit. he’d shake his head and just ask you what kind of laundry detergent you liked as he piled clothes into a basket.

“if you keep up with it weekly, then it won’t get out of hand and too big to fix.” you mumbled one time while scrubbing the dishes. “sometimes when the scaries got really bad, i used to forget to keep up with my cleaning. all the mess just made things more unbearable. keeping on top of it makes me feel more in control. even if the ‘cleaning’ one week is just refilling the toilet paper and doing one single load of laundry.”

he nodded his head in response, emptying the trash beneath the sink. spencer was nothing but soft with you, but even more so whenever you mentioned your struggles with depression or ‘the scaries’ as you called it. the two of you quickly fell into a habit every single saturday. you split the work load. you’d do the dishes, he’d carry the trash out, you’d fold the laundry, he’d vacuum the rug. he didn’t have to say it, you’d already know, but he enjoyed the structure of routine just as much as you did. the rest of your saturdays were spent on the sofa, your head in his lap while you forced him to watch your favorite childhood show. takeout food spread across the coffee table in front of you. there was so much comfort the two of you found in the domesticity of it all.

so, yes, he was a little bit upset he missed this saturday and was so ready to get home and pull you into his arms and never let go. he hadn’t noticed him spacing out, eyes focused on the same page of a book he was reading for five minutes, until he heard derek morgan’s voice.

“hey, loverboy!” spencer’s head snapped up, brows furrowing at the man giving him a cheeky smile. “you’ve been staring at that page for an eternity. what’s on your mind, huh?” he asked, although he already knew the answer.

you met the whole team ages ago and every one of them adored you but derek especially admired the way you loved spencer. he’d never say it out loud, unless it was in a teasing way to get spencer to blush, but he genuinely believed you were an angel sent to the boy genius. derek noticed how blissful you made him, how gentle you were and how safe he felt with you. how could his heart not swell in appreciation for the love you gave to his brother?

“i missed cleaning day…” spencer spoke, brows pulling together slightly. there was a soft sigh that fell from his lips as he pulled his phone from his pocket. your last text saying you were gonna stay up and wait for him even though you both knew that you’d fall asleep the moment you got comfortable.

“okay… and is that a bad thing?” derek responded, leaning back into his seat with a slightly confused expression.

“well, yeah. she likes cleaning every saturday and we normally split the work between us. that way we have more time to spend together.” spencer huffed and tucked his phone away again. he closed the book he was reading. “it’s more than just the cleaning, derek. i hate being away from her, you know? we never know when we’re gonna get called away on a case like this and i like spending as much time as i can with her. and i hate coming home late. it makes me feel like i’ve missed so much.”

derek breathed out a laugh but nodded, understanding all too well what he meant. emily prentiss came around the corner, one hand holding a cup of coffee and the other resting gently on spencer’s shoulder. “spencer reid, you have become the most smitten, lovestruck man since you met that girl. and it’s the most adorable thing in the world.” everyone on the jet chuckled softly at that, even aaron hotchner, while he blushed and adverted his eye contact towards the shaded window. he knew they weren’t laughing at him, more so showing an expression of how happy they were that he was happy.

he stepped into the dimly lit living room of his apartment at exactly 3:26am. the tv glowed over your sleeping body on the sofa, arms wrapped tightly around a stuffed red panda he gifted you a few birthdays ago. the netflix screen asking ‘are you still watching avatar: the last airbender?’ shined in his face as he leaned in to shut the machine off. he walked over to your sleepy state, a tiny smile growing on his lips as he leaned in to brush some of your hair from your face. he tucked one arm beneath your knees and held the other one to your arm as he carried you to the bedroom.

you stirred, humming softly as he quietly shushed you. “shh, hi baby. i’m home now. go back to bed, yeah?”

“how was the flight?” you asked in a soft whisper, ignoring his requests. he chuckled, shaking his head and he set you gently on the cushion of his mattress.

“it was fine. too long. i’m sorry i’m home late.” he was just as quiet as you, pulling the duvet over your body and tucking it at your shoulders. he picked up the stuffed animal that had fallen beside the bed and tucked it next to you as well.

“it’s okay. we always have tomorrow.” with your eyes still closed, you smiled as he kissed your forehead.

“yes, my love. we do, don’t we? i’m gonna get changed okay? go back to bed.”

“i’ll wait for you.”

when he was changed out of his work clothes and into his pajamas, he turned back and found you soundly asleep again. he let out a quiet laugh, got into bed and pulled you right to his chest. he played with your hair until he fell asleep too, no longer upset about the day he missed with you because you were right.

he always had tomorrow.

[pyrodolls]

admirer! yandere boy x hitman! reader

✰ warnings: murder, mentions of blood and poison, stalking, obsessiveness, regular yandere tendencies, reader is a hitman, reader is also a fake ass bitch, lowercase intended, gender neutral reader and no use of y/n. i do not condone yanderes irl or the themes in this fic.

✰ a/n: hey guys so i saw people on tiktok playing yandere simulator and implementing an admirer/stalker in the game. inspiration struck and i thought i’d write something based off of that. if this is well-liked i may write another part. i’m also hoping to write more frequently cuz it’s summer now!! expect more frequent updates and some reqs to finally be written :) also, i was hoping you guys could comment or message some name ideas for our little admirer!yandere boy…

you thought you got away with it. you were hired to eliminate a student in your class, and nobody ever found out it was you. you were able to show up to school the next week, unbothered, even though the staff and students were weeping over the loss of their classmate. you were even at the late student’s funeral, standing amongst the sea of supporters dressed in black, and not a single soul knew it was you.

except for one. it was a boy that was in your class. he sat behind you, staring at the back of your head every day, hoping you’d talk to him. hoping you’d look at him. he was completely and utterly infatuated with you. he knew your entire schedule, address, interests, and more. for someone that killed people for a living, you somehow never noticed the boy that followed you everywhere you went.

he was the one that noticed your crime. he saw when you slipped a poison into your fellow classmate’s food, and watched them cough up blood for a couple minutes before they died. if a regular student witnessed what you did, they would run away and report you. but your little admirer just stood and grinned. oh, how pretty you looked with blood on your skin. you were so skilled at your job, how could he not admire your work?

he didn’t tell a single soul. he already found out about your twisted job long ago, he just never had the luck to see it in person. it didn’t phase him in the slightest. in fact, it made him want you even more. he even went home that day and ranted to his wall about what he saw. how he wanted to go up to you and compliment your skills, how mesmerizing you were when you swiftly disposed of the evidence, how strong you were to simply go on with your other classes as if nothing happened.

the week after that student’s funeral, it was deemed a self-inflicted death. there were new posters all over the walls with phrases such as: “you are loved!” or “you are not alone!” to prevent the incident from occurring again. your stalker felt overjoyed. you were getting away with it! he couldn’t be more proud of you. he decided to let you know how he felt as quickly as possible. he couldn’t keep it a secret anymore.

during your first class, you felt a tap on your shoulder. the scrawny boy behind you held up a small, folded sheet of paper with shaky hands. you took the paper and gave a fake smile to the boy. when you opened the note, you read: “meet me on the roof during lunch.”

you had to keep up your “friendly” reputation at school, so you couldn’t reject him. that’s why you reluctantly went up to the roof.

however, he was panicked. he immediately regretted his decision the moment you read his note. he couldn’t focus during his other classes because of how nervous he was.

but he couldn’t just leave you hanging, so he went up to the rooftop anyway.

“so.. what’s your na-“

“i love you!” the boy blurted out, interrupting your attempt at a kind greeting. his sudden confession left you speechless, and you had no clue how to respond.

he waited for your answer, hoping you weren’t disgusted. he stood with his hands tightly gripping his shirt, staring at the floor. he was too scared to look up at your face.

after a painfully long minute, he opened his mouth again. “i… have been watching you for a while. i am in love with you. every day, i only think of you. i kept it a secret for a while, but after i saw how you killed that studen-”

you quickly pinned him to the wall with your arm buried into his neck. “shut your mouth!” you scolded, looking around to see if anyone heard him.

“listen man, i don’t know who you are. but you’re sounding like a real fuckin’ freak, and you saw what i did. give me one good reason why i should spare your life.” you threatened.

“i’m on your side! i swear! i meant that i was amazed by what i saw! i’ve always been in love with you, but seeing what you did made me fall even harder. you looked so good with blood on your face, by the way.” he babbled, pathetically choking out praises in hopes that you would believe him.

you scoffed. “and how do i know you’re not coming up with some random bullshit so i don’t kill you?”

“i never reported you! it’s been a week and i never told a single soul what i saw. if i didn’t love you, i would’ve told someone. but i didn’t! because i really, truly love you. please give me a chance, i’ll be the best boyfriend ever! i’ll do your homework, i’ll cook and clean for you, and i know all your favorite shows and movies so i can talk to you about them!” he rambled.

as fun as that sounded, you really weren’t looking for a boyfriend at the moment. you were too busy. besides, even if you did want a boyfriend, this guy would be nowhere near your top picks.

“i don’t want a boyfriend. i don’t even know you! plus, no matter what you say, you still saw what i did. i won’t let you leave this roof alive.” you declared.

“nononono please, i’ll help you! i’ll assist you in killing people or something. i’ll do anything to prove my love. just give me a chance to be with you. listen, you can give me a month, and if you still don’t like me, you can kill me.” he proposed.

you thought about it for a moment. it didn’t sound like a bad idea. this guy’s willing to be a free, personal assistant. he could take a lot of weight off your chest if he helped with your work. and you knew a guy this scrawny could never beat you in a fight, so if anything goes wrong, you can eliminate him easily.

“you got yourself a deal, pipsqueak. you have 30 days. impress me, and maybe i’ll let you off the hook. but if you snitch on me, or if i still don’t like you by the end of the month, i’ll snap your neck.”

“so you’re giving me a chance? thank you so much! i won’t let you down.” the boy cheered.

you sighed. “you better not.”

it’s gonna be a long month.

[volleychumps]

HEY, HEY, HEY!! I love your Haikyuu fics, so I was wondering if you could make a fic where the reader is an absolute simp for the boys and shows her lovesickness no matter what, she'd have nosebleeds, compliments them every single time, has literal albums and photos of them everywhere on their phone or at home, she always treats them like kings, etc. The boys could be Bokuto, Akaashi Kuroo, Kenma, Kags, Tsuki, Miya Twins, Sakusa, Ushijima, Oikawa, Iwaizumi, Yamaguchi, Tendou if possible

*you can choose from these if you can't write for them all, i dont mind :>

*you can also make them fem or g/n, whichever your comfortable with

- I suddenly remembered that i loved ur reader wears their jerseys fic, so i was wondering if you can make smth like that. But no pressure!! Have a great dayyy💗💗

When You're a Hardcore Simp (w/ Bokuto, Kageyama, Sakusa, and Iwaizumi) x Fem! Reader

HAHA WHAT UP GANG- wait sorry if this isn't as good as my usual stuff, let's see if I can ease back into it <3

warning(s): manga spoilers!!! In Bokuto and Sakusa's. Mention of slight blood in Bokuto's. (like a nosebleed)

Bokuto

“Y/N, you’re embarrassing. Since when were you a loser?”

You dab at the dark red liquid under your nose, a satisfied smile on your face as the owlish-haired man spikes a cross-spike across the court in an astonishing manner, the crowds of people in awe at the ace’s movements. Your eyes trace his broad shoulders, the black uniform stretched to fit his body handsomely with a confident tinge in his golden eyes. His arms-

You sigh dreamily, Kuroo Tetsurou rolling his eyes from next to you as Bokuto leaps in joy, slapping Hinata on the back and bouncing on the balls of his feet. 

“Jealousy is a disease, Tetsurou.” You don’t let the tall raven-haired boy damper your mood, wondering how you got so lucky as Bokuto drinks in the cheers from the audience. Kuroo rolls his eyes, reaching in his gym bag for a pack of tissues before offering you one as he leans on the railing. You accept it, taking your eyes off the love of your life momentarily to tilt your head upwards. 

“At least I don’t act like a perv in public.” Kuroo snips, eyeing you carefully as you glare at your long-term friend from high school. “Hey, are you okay? This isn’t normal, you know.”

“I’m good.” 

“You sure about that?” Kuroo nods at the court, and your eyes meet Bokuto’s golden irises all the way from where you’re standing near the upper-railing as a grin stretches across his handsome features, closing his eyes while waving in your direction with both of his arms in large gestures. Your eyes fill with adoration again, turning away quickly as the blood flow increases out of your nose.

“Nope! I take it back, my heart can’t handle this.” 

Kuroo scoffs, practically seeing hearts in your eyes as Bokuto wilts on the court as you turn your back to him. 

“Is Y/N avoiding me?” He frowns as Atsumu snickers, Sakusa shaking his head in slight disgust and disbelief at how unbelievably down bad you were. Atsumu points into the crowd with a smirk, Bokuto’s eyes lighting up at the sight of you leaning across the railing with your hands cupped to your mouth. 

“I LOVE YOU KOUTAROU!!!!” Your voice booms among the cheers of the audience, but Bokuto hears it so clearly. Kuroo is holding your waist back in annoyance at the attention you were getting from onlookers nearby, keeping you from falling off the railing. Bokuto’s eyes sparkle as he laughs at the dramatic kisses you were blowing in his direction. “YOU’RE SO HANDSOME-!” 

“I LOVE YOU MORE BABY!!!” He’s giddy, warmth evident in his features as his manager palms his face in absolute exhaustion. Hinata waves excitedly to both you and Kuroo as Sakusa and Atsumu raise a single hand in greeting. Talk about a PR disaster. 

Your cheers are loud in his ears as the Black Jackals take the final set, and Bokuto looks as handsome as ever with sweat trickling down his temple, his arms bulging with heavy use as he winks at you from up in the stands. You squeal when he motions to the passes around yours and Kuroo’s neck to come down for special access to the court. 

“I take it back.” Kuroo is annoyed and exhausted as you leap into the Ace’s arms with a squeal, Bokuto catching you by the thighs as you wrap your legs around his middle section in a passionate kiss, obviously unable to keep your hands off each other. 

“You’re both losers. Get a room before the press attacks.” 

Kageyama

“Stop wasting your money, Y/N.” Kageyama chastises you quietly, a box of white milk tapping the edge of his desk as your little school girl skirt takes the seat in front of him, an easy smile on your features as the tips of his ears burn a bright pink. 

“Waste?” You frown, tilting your head a little bit with your cheek in your palm. “Why is it a waste if my baby likes it?” 

Kageyama’s cheeks flare up next, obviously short-circuiting as you withhold a giggle, Hinata watching the exchange with a slight pout on his lips. 

“So cruel, Y/N-chan, you’re breaking our setter.” The orange-haired first year complains. “And you didn’t get me anything!”

“You know I’d never forget you, Sho.” You roll your eyes, a can of orange juice hitting the edge of Hinata’s desk yet as his eyes brighten tenfold, excitedly popping open the beverage as Kageyama embarrassedly distracts himself by sticking the straw into the box. You smile a little knowing grin as he refuses to meet your eyes, but it’s obvious it became less special to him when you got one for his idiot friend as well.

Casually, you reach a hand out to grab Kageyama’s hand as he internally combusts at the actions, holding a conversation with Hinata in the midst of it as you play with the tips of his fingers. 

Kageyama’s jaw slackens, the softness of your hands making his head spin in a good way before you make eye contact with him. You looked at him with so much love in your eyes, he felt like he couldn’t breathe. 

“Break time’s over! I’ll see you later, Sho.” You grin at your friend as Kageyama looks at you in expectation, and you try not to coo at the hopefulness in his blue irises before leaning down, kissing his cheek softly and so sweetly even Hinata has to look away with a blush. 

“I’ll see you later, Tobio.” You cup his cheeks afterwards, kissing the tip of his nose for good measure before beginning to bounce off with a giggle. “Have a good practice later, okay?” 

Tobio sits there for a second before a puff of smoke almost visibly comes out of his head, cheeks a deeper red than ever before. Hinata groans, calling after you as you skip your way out of his classroom. 

“This time I really think you broke him Y/N-chan!” 

Sakusa

“Yer’ so down bad it’s laughable.” Osamu quips, and you look at him in false offense, sporting Sakusa’s jersey number as well as his number written on your cheek in black paint. The black jackals cap sitting atop your head tilted slightly to the side, as if you have no idea what the hell he was talking about. 

“I don’t know why you would think that.” 

“Don’t piss me off.” 

You laugh, Osamu humming in content as he lazily watches his brother get blatantly rejected by your boyfriend in his attempt of a double high five as the game nears its close. You bite back a smile at the subtle, knowing glance he sends your way, stomach fluttering in anticipation of seeing Sakusa after his game.

“Ya look like a crazy fan that he should get a restraining order against.” Osamu continues, nudging your shoulders as you pout. 

“Do you think it’s embarrassing? Maybe Omi thinks it’s silly?” You question the shop-owner, beginning to smudge off the ink on your cheeks as your mood dips, Osamu blinking once before beginning to feel a little bad he made you insecure. Instead, he clicks his tongue, reaching out to help clean up the now smudged mess on your cheeks.

“If yer’ gonna wipe it off, at least get it off all the way.” 

“No!” You exclaim with puffed out cheeks, astonished he would even offer as you take an abrupt step back. “Only Omi can touch my face.” 

Osamu blinks at you again in disbelief, slightly impressed at the public display of your loyalties at 100% before getting annoyed again. “Oi. Don’t make me out to be some sort of-” 

“Good girl.” Your eyes light up as Sakusa taps a hand on your head, scowling at the inky mess on your cheeks before meeting Osamu with a deadpan stare. “What happened to my jersey number?” 

Osamu’s eyes flit between the two of you as Atsumu can’t help but burst out laughing from the court below, the cook coming to a slow realization as Sakusa turns your head to the side with a slight pinch in your cheeks with one hand, a sanitizing wipe doing just the trick as you meet his seemingly indifferent stare with a look of pure adoration. 

He’s just as whipped as you are. 

Sakusa finishes ridding your cheeks of ink before tugging you along, bringing his mask up over his face as you hum giddily, smile etched into your features when he stops outside the locker room with an outstretched hand. 

“It’s not embarrassing?” Your voice is quiet as you look up at him with a hopeful glint in your eyes, putting the black paint marker into his hand as Sakusa rolls his eyes. He writes #15 in elegant strokes on your clean skin, laser focused, capping the marker after in satisfaction. 

“No.” His response is simple as he tugs down his mask to place a quick kiss on your eyelid, a heat warming your cheeks as Sakusa hesitates for a second before placing one on your lips as well, sending your heart soaring wildly. 

He’s already walking ahead of you as you stare after him in slight bewilderment for a second, already bounding up next to him as you slip your hand into his. 

“Thought it was too public for you, Omi.” 

“That’s your prize for not letting Miya touch what’s mine.” 

Iwaizumi

“Y/N’s rizz is unmatched, as always.” 

Matsukawa grins into his canned coffee at lunch time, watching as you somehow manage to get Iwaizumi to smile a bit in the selfie you were taking, a flirtatious wink in your eye as your hand cups his cheek lovingly. Iwaizumi nods in quiet approval at the bento you had made for him, shooting you a small loving look he only reserves for you before tugging you into his lap casually. 

“I still don’t understand how Iwa pulled someone as adoring as Y/N.” Hanamaki whistles lowly, Oikawa nodding in agreement with a grin. 

“She’s such a simp.” 

“We’re sitting right here, what the hell.” You glare a little bit at the three of them as Iwa matches your action, Oikawa almost laughing at the uncharacteristic expression on your face you obviously adopted from your boyfriend. 

“I’m not a simp!” You proclaim as Iwaizumi arches an eyebrow amusedly, but doesn’t say anything. “You can’t prove it.” 

“Turn your phone around.” Hanamaki doesn’t miss a beat, finishing off his own bento as you wilt a little, showing the clear phone case littered with heart stickers and a single polaroid photo of Iwaizumi overlooking a strawberry patch. Iwaizumi looks away to hold back his expression, but the guys could tell from his eyes he was pretty happy.

“Most girls do this.” 

“Uh-huh.” Matsukawa’s next, smirk beginning to tickle the edge of his lips. “What do you have his name under in your phone?” 

“Iwa.” 

“Why are you lying for fun.” Oikawa plucks the phone out of your hand, ignoring your whine of protests before showing the group your blatant lie. “I’m pretty sure this says ‘Future Handsome (DILF) Husband’”.

“See, that was a typo.”  But your cheeks give your poor lie away anyways, upset at how Iwaizumi begins to hide his grin in your neck and hold you a little tighter in his lap. 

“Is this not a whole album dedicated to your relationship with him- how the absolute hell do you have 600 images of him? I only have one and it’s from fourth grade!” Oikawa’s rant of complaints is cut off by you snatching the phone out of his grasp, before pushing off of Iwaizumi’s lap to run out of the room in embarrassment. Iwaizumi’s mood darkens, turning to his friends as Oikawa freezes up with a nervous grin on his face.

“Too far?” 

“You three are apologizing to her later.” Iwaizumi doesn’t leave room for comments, his tone changing drastically into a shy mutter as he stalks out of the classroom to go find you. 

“Even if she is a bit of a simp.” 

“You say that like you didn’t spend a year and half liking her, Iwa-chan!”

[st-eve-barnes]

By your side (Aemond x wife reader)

I haven't written anything in a while but of course I had to write something inspired by that gif (it's a little different in the fic though). This was written quickly, feel free to point out any mistakes, I just had to get this little thing out.

Summary: Aemond is in need of comfort and reassurance and his wife is there for him.

Word count: +1240

Warning: none, this is just some angsty fluff

***

All my fics are also on AO3

***

You found him in his favorite spot, his comfortable chair by the fireplace, where he loved to read at the end of a long day or have a drink to forget about his worries before going to bed. Tonight was the latter, minus the drink.

He had barely greeted you when you walked in, in fact he barely looked up. Not even when you had taken off your coat and revealed your favorite green night gown, the one Aemond loved the most. His lack of attention for you was enough to tell you your husband was preoccupied and distracted.

“Council didn’t go as you had hoped?”

Aemond was quiet for a while and you didn’t push, allowing him time to resurface from wherever his mind was right now. It took a few minutes before he answered, his voice weak. “They laughed.”

You turned to look at him but Aemond didn’t meet your gaze.

“Every time I tried to bring up these undeniably pressing matters they just laughed at me. They are fools, all of them.”

You sat down on the side of the bed, facing the fireplace and him. He was down to his undergarments, his leather discarded on the floor, his eye patch on the bedside table and his hair loose, framing his long face. He looked more vulnerable than ever in the dim light of the fire and your heart bled for him.

“War is imminent and they just choose to ignore it, am I the only one with common sense in this entire bloody realm?”

He tried to raise his voice but it came out more broken than before.

You didn’t speak, instead you rose from the bed and walked over towards his chair. Not wasting any more time you took your rightful spot in Aemond’s lap, your hand cupping his cheek gently, bringing him back down to the warmth and solitude of the room instead of his loud, intruding thoughts.

Finally he looked up to meet your eyes, his hands coming to rest on your hips, his good eye was clouded with emotions.

To the outside world Aemond seemed calm and stern, always in control and always confident. But anyone who truly knew him, knew better than that and you had gotten to know him a whole lot better than anyone else during your two years of marriage.

Your husband was stubborn, protective, kind or cold depending on who he was dealing with. A warrior and a scared boy all in one. The smartest dumbass you had ever met. His beauty still amazed you every single day and his devotion to you was unlike anything you had ever dared to hope for or dream of in a husband. 

But there was an undeniable dark side to him as well. Aemond held so much unresolved anger in him, always right there under the surface. Ever since Lucerys, and even before that, Aemond was a ticking time bomb waiting to go off and you were never not aware of it. 

Despite that he had been nothing but kind and loving to you and you had never felt any kind of fear in his presence. On the contrary, the longer you had been married to him the softer he had become with you.

He closed his good eye and pressed his cheek into your hand, letting out the breath he’d been holding all day. Your comforting touch gave him the much needed solace he couldn’t find anywhere else. Your hands moved to caress his hair and his cheek, pulling more soft sighs from him. You didn’t have the words to heal all his wounds but you knew Aemond didn’t need them at this time. All he needed was your comfort, your loyalty and love.

You placed a gentle kiss on his forehead and felt him pull you deeper into his lap. You followed willingly, as you always did with Aemond.

You both sat in silence for a while until finally he spoke again.”When they laughed…I was right there again, that little kid who everybody hated and ignored….he had the entire world against him but he was so brave.”

“You are still brave, Aemond,” you whispered, caressing his long silver hair.

“And I’m still hated and ignored,” he added with a sigh.

“I don’t hate you, and I would never ignore you, my sweet husband,” your lips curled up into what you hoped was an encouraging smile and much to your relief Aemond responded, although it was weak the little hint of affection in his eyes was a clear sign his anger was already fading.

He leaned in to place the softest, lingering kiss on your lips making your heart flutter.

“I am not deserving of any of this,” he then whispered.

“What do you mean any of this?”

“You,” he breathed,” I am not deserving of you.”

You cupped his face with both hands, forcing him to look at you,”I chose you. Have you forgotten that? I’ve gotten plenty of other offers but I only wanted you, Aemond.”

“You chose me before…before I…”

“I would still choose you today,” you reassured him and Aemond looked at you with surprise and a hint of tears in his eye.

“You would, wouldn’t you?” he realized,”Even after…what I’ve done.”

“What you’ve done isn’t worse than what half the men in Westeros have done.”

You hesitated for a moment.

“I know we’re on the verge of war and you’ll have to do much worse things than that,” you then added,”I am not naive, Aemond, I know the dark world we live in and I know what’s ahead of us but...it does not change how I feel about you.”

His eye seemed to be locked on yours now, looking at you in awe as a tear ran down his cheek but it wasn’t one of sadness this time.

“You will be by my side, through all of it,” he realized again, even though his words sounded like a question.

“Of course. I have sworn my loyalty to you, my prince, I do not take such things lightly.”

Aemond nodded at your official choice of words and you quickly added,”Besides that I…I love you. No matter what happened in the past or what the future may throw at us, I am on your side, husband, always.”

You gently wiped the tears from his cheek and Aemond breathed a sigh of relief.”Avy jorrāelan, ñuha dōna ābrazȳrys.”

I love you, my sweet wife

HIs hand traveled up your back to drag you closer to him and capture your lips in another kiss, this one more heated and urgent than before but after a while he hesitantly pulled back. Worry was still clouding his beautiful features, making him look beyond exhausted. You lovingly cupped his cheek and gave him an understanding smile.

“Can we just rest tonight?” he requested quietly. You were quick to nod and pull yourself out of his lap, reaching out your hands to take Aemond with you. He followed eagerly, the both of you seeking refuge under the covers of your marital bed, the silence of the room and the comforting crackling of the fire adding to your own exhaustion.

Aemond’s arm snaked around you in a protective pull to have you closer to his chest, needy and warm.

The impending war would have to wait for now, the only thing that mattered tonight was holding your husband.

[justaaveragereader]

Slashtober🔪||OT8

Pairing: OT8 x Reader

Word Count: 3.0k

Warnings: MeanDom!Ateez, Sub!Reader, Name Calling, Gang Bang, Ass Fucking, Unprotected Sex (Please Dont😀), Spanking, Spit, Tit Smacking, Breast Play, Bukkake, Dacryphilia, Oral, Cum Eating, Rough Sex, Degradation, CNC, Choking, Marking, If I Missed Anything🫣👀Lemme Know..

A/N: I can’t believe I was able to get this done before 12am😵‍💫, I tried my best to get this done before midnight, bc I wanted to make sure I posted it on Halloween. I can’t believe it’s officially over now, thank you to everyone who supported me. Rather it was with a like, reblog, a comment, an ask, anything tbh. I received so much love this October and I’m grateful and appreciate to every single one of you😭💙. Also special thanks to @seonghwasbobaeyes for betaing the first half of this fic, you are muchly appreciated babes😚! This isn’t the end of the road for Slasher!Ateez👀, we will DEFINITELY be seeing them again! I’m already thinking about what I’m going to write for November tbh..😚. My asks will be opening due to October being over, so send in your requests!

Kinktober Masterlist

Ever since your last visit with the two masked men, you had been itching, yearning for more. They left you with an undying last in your mouth. You craved them, how sinners crave sin. They were addicting, they were like a forbidden fruit.

You hadn’t heard a peep or even seen a peep of them in weeks. You had been on the lookout constantly, trying to find any trace of them. It's like your neighbors knew you were on the fence. Making sure to greet you everyday, going out of their way to make sure you were happy. They so easily picked up your emotions. It's like you bonded with every single one of them. Wanting to get into better spirits you decided to throw a small Halloween party inviting the guys from the neighborhood as a way to say thanks for all they do, and thanks for being there for you.

You were at home prepping the food when suddenly the lights went out in your home. Letting out an annoyed huff you make your way to your circuit breaker box. Walking past your bedroom you notice a figure in your room, hiding behind the wall, you try to steady your breath clearly worked up and scared by what you saw, you quietly try to creep down the hall when your lights cut back on. Wanting to see if it was your eyes playing tricks on you, or if there was someone actually in your home you slowly make your way to the bedroom. As soon as you cut the corner to your room you see one of the masked men in your bedroom, sitting on your bed, man spreading widely. Energy as heavy as stone, he sat like he owned not only your hole, he sat like he owned you, and every move you made. Getting up slowly, he walks towards you, slow long strides.

Putting his hands up on the frame of the door. His muscular body takes up the whole door frame.

“And where are you running off to, pretty girl?”

Your eyes grow big, backing away slowly, your back bumps into a hard frame behind you. Looking up you see Mingi towering over you, staring down at your helpless frame.

“Don’t you look cute in your pajamas.” Mingi says with a large smirk on his face, running his fingers over the lace trim on the bottom of your sleep shorts. Jongho walks over to you, peeling his body off of the door frame. His large frame crushes you between him and Mingi. You can barely see his eyes through the mask, yet you can feel the intensity radiating from the person beneath it.

“Wh-what’s going on…” you whisper out through a shaky breath. Gripping your hips Mingi pulls your ass against him, grinding his hard on, onto you. Jongho moves closer, his chest completely crushing you. Gripping the front of your pajama shorts he plays with the lace on them, letting his hand slowly fall to the front of them, gradually untying the ribbon that keeps them up. Loosening the shorts, they fall dangerously low on your hips.

“What do you think is going on darling?” Seonghwa says, smooth voice floating out beneath his mask, making his way into your bedroom room. He seats himself on the bed. Man spreading his legs wide open, your eyes drift over the female plastic mask he’s wearing, down to the bricked cock beneath his skin tight pants. When Jongho squishes your body even further in between him and Mingi.

“I-I don’t kn-.” Your sentence gets cut off when the other two masked men enter, the largest one of the group takes up the whole door frame, while the shorter broader one stands in front of him. With his head cocked to the side. A shiver runs up your spine. Your brain can barely process what’s going on in front of you. All you want to do is flee but it feels like your feet are cemented to the ground.

“Look at her.” Yunho says, stepping forward into the room, clearing his large stature out of the door frame. San lets out a loud chuckle, making his way towards you.

“She looks like a deer caught in headlights.” San says through a laugh, walking on the other side of you while Yunho goes on the opposite. Caging your body in by all four men, while Seonghwa sits on the small bed watching you.

“I know you guys aren’t starting the game without us.” Wooyoung whines out, walking into the room, face paint smeared across his face yet with the lack of the red lights you can see clear as day that it’s Wooyoung. Trying to strain your neck between the men who are caging you in.

“Wooyoung, what’s going on?” You whisper shout, as if the men couldn’t hear you in the same confined room. Letting out a loud laugh, he walked over, looking at your poor helpless frame. Your body does a noticeable shiver.

“Do you want me to save you?” He says through a fake coo. Yeosang stands in the doorway, leaning his muscular form against it. Looking at you behind his mask he makes his way slowly over. Pushing through the cage the boys have you in.

“No…I think she wants all of us to help her out.” He says while he runs his gloved hand up your body. Starting from your chest, running it between your breasts, settling his covered hand around your throat. It's like deja vu, you start getting various flashbacks of each time one of these men have rearranged your guts, and practically broke your spine.

“Do you need saving darling?” Seonghwa says, standing up off the bed, making his way towards you with long slow strides, the men who caged your body slowly back away, making room for Seonghwa. His tall frame easily towers over yours. Soaking you in from head to toe.

“Of course not Seonghwa she doesn’t need saving, she needs to be fucked like the slut she is.” Hongjoong says, gripping your throat pulling your body against his invisible one. Manhandling you with ease, you swear you can see every person in the room, eyes darken instantaneously.

“Is that what it is dear? You need us to bend you over and rearrange your guts?” Seonghwa says, gripping your chin lightly while Hongjoongs hand continues to hold you tightly. Letting out a small whimper your eyes dart around to every man surrounding you in this room. Your lower belly grows hot with need. Hot with want, hot with flashbacks of every orgasm you’ve had with the individuals in this room. You open your mouth, just to close it once more, not exactly sure what words you are trying to speak. But you can tell by the way they are crowding you, and the way you are drinking them all in. You want nothing more than for them to break you.

~

Wrapping your hand around Yeosangs cock, you continue to pump his dick up and down. Fist tight to make sure he gets as much pleasure as possible. Gripping your chin in his hand, San turns your face towards him, cock deep down your throat, with his other hand on the back of your head, you gag with every powerful thrust he delivers to your throat. Eyes watering with unshed tears. San lets out a loud laugh, gripping the back of your head even tighter. Slamming his hips into your mouth..

“Look at this slut crying. Go on baby, cry on my cock.” San grits out, the pleasure that your warm mouth is giving him is becoming too much. Hongjoong lines himself up with your entrance, not even giving you time to prep, he slams his cock deep into your cunt. Body driving forward your nose bumps against Sans pelvic area. Letting out a loud sadistic laugh, he starts out at a rough pace, jack hammering your body forward. Causing a quick rhythm between him and San. Your hand starts to fall slack around Yeosangs cock. Gripping your head, Yeosang turns your face towards him.

“Do it right slut.” He grits out, squeezing your cheeks so tightly that he can feel Sans cock slide in and out of your mouth.

“Stretch her out.” Seonghwa says, the heaviest presence in the room. He stands up, hard cock in his hand, he slides under you. Your breast jiggling in his face, gripping your left breast, he runs his long cool tongue over your nipple. You squeeze your eyes shut, too immersed in the pleasure.

Mingi makes his way behind Hongjoong who is hammering away at you, collecting the drool that is hitting the floor from the way San is making you choke and gag on his cock. He wets his fingers, sliding them down to your puckered hole, you let out a moan so loud that all the boys can hear you. Sliding one finger in, your eyes grow huge, tears starting to run down your face by all the pleasure you are feeling.

Gripping your face harshly San gathers all the spit in his mouth, letting it slowly drop down to his cock, hitting your lips, it aids in the drool on the floor. Your eyes roll into the back of your head at the taste of him. You can taste him in more ways than one, and it has your head clouded with nothing but hot lust.

“Such a whore who loves to be degraded.” San grits out, watching you suck him down your throat.

“Look at her crying again.” Yeosang says while your grip tightens and untightens on his cock. Mocking you through a fake coo. Letting his hand travel down, he grips the breast Seonghwa isn’t paying attention to, squeezing your nipple, just as he’s squeezing Mingi slips his second finger in your ass trying to stretch you out as much as possible. Tears are running down your face rapidly, your pussy clenches on Hongjoong, letting out a loud groan. He slams his hips up into you once more before pulling out, chest heaving up and down. Holding his orgasm back, wanting to save it to paint your body.

Wooyoung lets out a small laugh, clearly enjoying the view of you getting rag dolled all over the place, sliding into the place of Hongjoong, he taps his cock against your wet cunt, sliding his cock in between your wet pussy lips, making sure with every thrust up he nudges your clit. Pulling back San bites his lip, gripping your head even tighter trying to fight the urge to cum all over your face, he slides back letting Yunho in. Letting out a choked cough, you intake as much air as possible. Trying to catch your breath before Yunhos large frame towers over your small body.

“Look at this slut..” he says while hooking your bottom jaw with his thumb. Jongho stands behind Yunho, getting an eye full of you, tilting his head to the side almost like he’s studying you.

“Wanting to take us all..” Jongho says, continuing Yunhos sentence.

“She wants us in every way…” Mingi finishes after Jongho speaks.

Moving on the side of your body, Mingi pulls his fingers out, feeling like you’ve been stretched enough, he lets Seonghwa know that you are prepped and ready for whatever he is ready to give you. Sliding out from under you, Wooyoung and Seonghwa trade spots. With his wet fingers Mingi slowly strokes his cock while Seonghwa slides in between your wet cunt. Making sure that he soaks his cock with your juices that are practically pouring down, he lines himself up with your puckered hole. Sliding in slowly, inch my inch. Your eyes scrunch shut, the feeling of him sliding in your ass is unlike any other feeling you’ve ever felt. You grip Yunhos thighs for stability, just as you are about to let out the loudest moan, Yunho slides his cock into your mouth, instantly stuffing it. Wooyoung lines himself up with your sopping cunt that is dripping down onto his cock, your arousal just leaking all over him. Yeosang and Jongho stand on opposite sides of you, large bodies towering over your frame. Bunching your eyes shut, Wooyoung slides easily into your pussy. Shooting your eyes open you let out a loud, muffled moan. Placing your hands out, trying your best to find your balance while Seonghwa is fucking your ass, Wooyoung is deep in your cunt, while Yunhos large cock is deep down your throat.

Gripping Yeosangs and Jonghos cock in your hand, you slowly start to pump them, making sure to pay extra attention to the head of their cocks. With each stroke the members are giving you, you are seeing heaven behind your eyes, Seonghwa continuously slaps your ass cheeks while he strokes deep in your puckered hole, watching your ass cheek welt with each deep stroke he delivers to you. Wooyoungs balls are dripping with your arousal, inner thighs shining with your juices. While Yunho grips the sides of your face, making sure you take his cock as far as your small throat will let him.

San, Mingi, and Hongjoongs degradation fill your ears. Making you on the brink of the most powerful orgasm.

“Look at this hungry cock slut.” Hongjoong says, slowly stroking his cock, watching everyone have their turn with you.

“Look at her crying over how good all of our cocks are…” Mingi grits out, grabbing his balls while he beats his cock. Making sure to collect the drool that leaves your mouth on his hands so he can stroke himself with ease.

“Nothing but a cock sleeve for all of us.” San says with his head tilted back, stroking himself, matching the rhythm at which they all are fucking you.

Mingi makes his way over to Seonghwa, watching the way his cock slides in and out of your ass. Gripping one cheek so it’s easier for Seonghwa to get a feel of your warm wet hole. He gathers the spit in his mouth letting it drop onto your puckered hole. The cool sensation differs from the warmth of Seonghwas length sliding in and out of you. Hongjoong lets out a small chuckle at the way you whine every time someone spits on you, he makes his way towards Yunho, holding the sides of your throat, giving it a slight squeeze your breathing stutters, with his hands tightening around you throat he can feel Yunho slide in and out, the feeling is delicious, the lack of oxygen heats your body up.

Wooyoung reaches up, squeezing one of your tits in his hand while he strokes his cock in and out of your warm walls. Giving your nipple a pinch, you let out a muffled whine. Reeling his hand back he slaps your tit, the sudden feeling of the impact causes your jaw to drop, eyes fluttering in immense pleasure. He lets out a high pitched laugh, slapping your other tit, you feel the skin of your breast heat up with each heavy slap. The warmth that spreads through your body, has your toes clenching, you feel your orgasm charging its way through your body. Before you can get yours, Seonghwa is going to make sure all of them get theirs.

“You know what she’s only good for..” Seonghwa spits out through clenched teeth, pulling back swiftly, Wooyoung, and Yunho pull back as well. Urging you to sit on your knees with your mouth open. The members gather around you, stroking their cocks rapidly. With a loud groan, all of them cum almost in sync. Opening your mouth last minute you have drool running down your chest, with your tongue sticking out, trying to catch as much of their cum on your tongue as you can.

“This whore is only good for catching cum.” Seonghwa pants out. As they watch their cum drip down your body, it pools right between your legs, creating a small puddle. Letting out a low growl, Seonghwa moves forward first. Gripping the back of your throat he shoves you face down into the floor.

Running his hands down your back, he hikes your hips up into the air, your sticky chest comes in contact with the floor, creating a tacky feeling on your skin.

Cock already brick hard again, he taps it against your puckered hole, slipping in with ease once again. You let out a loud cry, throat sore from all the throat fucking you still let out loud moans with each buck of Seonghwas hips. Making his way over swiftly Mingi grabs your shoulders, lifting you up so your back is flush against Seonghwas chest, he lays down cock standing straight up, maneuvering you Mingi brings you down on his cock with the aid of Seonghwa. Letting out a loud cry once more your body falls forward, becoming chest to chest with Mingi. Gripping your neck Seonghwa pulls you back up, fingers tightly wrapping around your throat, destined to leave marks.

Wooyoung and Yeosang stand on opposite sides of your body, gripping your breast, before giving your chest a firm slap. Your body jolts forward, yet with Seonghwas tight grip on your throat you go nowhere. All the other members make their way towards you with their heavy, cum dripping cocks in their hands.

“You are going to be a good girl, and take all of our cum.” Seonghwa grunts into your ear before hiking his hips forward, biting your lip, you nod your head. Chest heaving with want. Mingi lets out a deep groan..

“Fuckkkkk…she’s dripping down my cock. Are you going to make a mess on our cocks, princess?” Adjusting his hips slightly, Mingi hikes his hips up into yours. Gripping your ass cheeks so you are spread even further for Seonghwa. The members step closer to you both.

“You are going to swallow all of their cum, then you are going to take our cum in this tight ass, and wet cunt of yours.” Seonghwa says knowingly, letting out a loud whimper by the authority in Seonghwas voice you nod as much as you can with his fingers still tightly wrapped around your throat.

Giving your ass a hard slap, Mingi jiggles the cheeks of your ass.

“Alright princess, who do you want to swallow first?”

Taglist: @araknoid @atinytinaa @k-hotchoisan @darkdayelixer @abby-grace @aurorasjoongie @tunaasan @jkookiejiminlvr @luckyblue98 @notevenheretbh1 @moonlightsora @raindropsondragons @park-simphwa @ro-written @hwajoongsang @certifiedmoa @pearltinyy @minniebinnie @solarstoy @frobin4ever @gvnwks @ethelia @jin-neck-shaft @nitarolls @jenthehobbityelf @gg-trini @tearfulsparks78 @10nantscompanion @moonm1st @oreoqueen @leehopehocarat @scuzmunkie @bangtan4everr @acetruepunk @s-unflowxr @rxnexxi @tenpesos @mixling-blog @helsnik @mrspettersen @mixtape-racha @realviviboss @mikaelless @queenoftrash97 @boomfrogg

Dividers and GIF @justaaveragereader

DO NOT REPOST.

[motherlvr]

hi:D can you do miles!42 with a reader who doesn't really like getting told "watch who ur talking to" or smth bc most fics abt miles!42 is like that and nooo i won't ever let a man say that to me😭 and they like, know how to defend themself so they're pretty independent if thats alr ofc!

ngl i loved writing this, tysm for the req!

wc: 2.1k

pairing: E-42 Miles Morales x Strong, Independent! f! reader

warnings: enemies to lovers, kind of rivalry tbh, cursing, Miles is mean in this one, but gets character development, reader knows how to fight, baddie ong, reader doesn't take miles' bs

------------

"You gotta be shitting me." Mumbling under your breath, your eye involuntarily twitched. You glared at Miles like it was his fault for putting you in this situation.

Your glare was reciprocated as he said, "I ain't happy about it either, princesa." You hated when he called you that. It rolled off his tongue with such distaste. "Yeah? Glad we got that in common then." You snipped, irritated.

Miles Gonzalo Morales was a dick. To put it kindly.

He was a stuck-up, close-minded dick. It's like his sole purpose in life was to irk you. The two of you have never been on good terms. He tested your patience every waking moment.

But unfortunately for both of you, your Spanish teacher paired you up as partners for a major project. It would count for a good portion of your grade, so not doing it wasn't an option for you. You had less than two weeks to finish the project, and you weren't going to waste it.

You'd much prefer to do the project alone. One thing you've learned is: if you want something done correctly, do it yourself. And to never put it solely in the hands of a man. But the project was a requirement for the class, so you had no place to argue about it.

Thankfully, today was just a planning day. So it wouldn't be as painful, you hoped.

You showed him a plan you had thought about within only a few minutes and asked, "Thoughts?" He took a short glance at it and told you, "That's trash." A vein almost popped out of your head. You snapped, "You got any better ideas then?"

"Yea, anythin' other than that." He told you mindlessly. You had half a mind to make his braided head become real familiar with the cold surface of his desk. Around ten minutes later, he had finally come up with something. It wasn't that great, but at least he was semi-cooperative. You took one look at his plan and decided to turn the tables on him. You said, "You couldn't have come up with anything better? Shit's worse than my idea."

You could see him grip his pencil just a bit tighter, no doubt irritated by now. "Nah, watch your mouth." He told you, and you were unsure of how serious he was being. "Watch my mouth? You needa watch how when you turn around, one of your precious braids will be gone." You said as you made a snipping motion with your fingers. He protectively grabbed onto his braids, "Yo chill, ma."

As Spanish class progressed, everything only went downhill from there. He always seemed to hate every idea you had or had something to say. He groaned, "Woman, I swear. Your ideas are shit." Your former hopes of a peaceful partnership were long gone.

His choice of words alone irked you as you replied, "See, that's what you're not gonna call me. And if we're gonna be partners, you need to act decent for once. Get it together, Morales." You set clear boundaries as you pointed a finger at him. Surprisingly, he obliged. He looked like he made a revelation as he shook his head. "Nah, you right. That was outta line." The moment was oddly tranquil until he opened his mouth again. "I meant: I swear, your ideas are fucking terrible."

From that point further, the hopes of having a normal, mature, conversation were fleeting. The majority of the class was spent bickering rather than working on the task at hand.

You were one of the very few people that tested him. You gave him a challenge, while most people wouldn't utter a single complaint.

Eventually, at the end of the class, the two of you finally landed on an idea to carry out. A true miracle.

The next week in Spanish class passed and the days were cutting it closer and closer to the deadline. But there was still much work to be done. So, begrudgingly, you both had to work on it out of school. After Spanish, you were packing up your things when you asked him, "My place or yours?" His response was immediate. "My place. I'll give you my address. Come over after school, 'ight?" He said, writing down his address and handing it to you.

You accepted it and said, "Alright. Are your parents good with me coming over?" You questioned if he even had the decency to check first. Although you couldn't stand him most of the time, you didn't want to intrude on his family. He shrugged it off, "Yeah my ma's good with it. Already told her."

He wasn't about to tell you that his mother demanded the project was done at his house so she could keep a keen eye on the both of you.

You were dreading the final bell of the day. Spending more time than legally required with Miles wasn't your ideal image of fun. As the school day ended, you walked over to Miles' house.

Knocking on the door, it was soon opened by no one other than Miles' mother. She was expecting you, as a smile adorned her face. You greeted her, "¡Hola, Señora Morales! Gracias por invitarme a tu casa." (Hi, Mrs. Morales! Thank you for inviting me to your house.)

She widened her eyes at you, "¡Claro! ¿Cómo estás?" (of course, how are you?) She asked you with a sweet smile. You replied and reciprocated a smile, "Bien, ¿usted?" (good, you?) To which she responded, "Muy bien, gracias." (very good, thank you) As you put down your things, you noticed Miles was standing only a few feet away. His mother pulled Miles to the side and whispered, "She speaks Spanish, I like her." Not wanting to give away that she was a loud whisperer, you concealed a small laugh. It's a wonder how Miles turned out like that. His mother's wonderful. You knew she raised him better.

After his mother was done speaking to him, Miles led you to his room. His mother called out, "¡Deja la puerta abierta!" (leave the door open!) "Si, mami." He said back in an unusually nice tone.

You previously believed Miles Morales was a universal dick. But you soon realized you were somewhat wrong. He was a dick. To everyone except his mother, it seemed.

As you both settled down to start working on the project, you grinned at him like you had just found out a Federal-level secret. "You're such a momma's boy." You said.

His head whipped to you like you knew something you shouldn't. "No one would believe you." He said. You teased, "Oh, everyone would. Trust."

This was the most civil conversation the both of you have ever held within your whole history of knowing Miles. The afternoon was sprinkled with light-hearted jokes here and there, and it wasn't as painful as you initially believed. Needless to say, being forcibly confined in a space with Miles went much smoother than you could've ever anticipated. The project was progressing for once. And so was your relationship with Miles.

A few days later, you were in a better mood than regular. Within the past few days, Miles has been more tolerable. Maybe even likable. Apparently, you were in too good of a mood. You must've appeared too approachable today.

As you were walking in the hallways of school to your next class, a guy you didn't recognize slung an arm around your shoulders and said, "Hey, what's good jit?" You immediately pushed his arm off. He reeked of an excessive usage of cologne. You winced at his stench. "Don't call me that." You assertively said. But he only took it as a challenge. He said with a wink, "You tryna play hard to get? Alright, I'll play along."

"I'm not 'playing hard to get'," You mocked with air quotations. Dumbing it down, you continued, "I don't want you." Could a girl make it any more obvious?

Your words went straight over his oversized head. He said with a disgusting smirk, "I can change your mind." Your face visibly grimaced at his desperate attempt, "Not even baby Jesus could change my mind."

He was starting to get agitated at this point, "Nah, why you trippin', girl?" he said. You immediately retorted, "Why can't you take a damn hint?"

"C'mon, I know you want me. Gimme a chance." He said. You were sick and tired of this interaction, so you just decided to walk away. Turning your back, you tried to escape this conversation. But he grabbed your hand to prevent you from leaving. "Aye, where you goin'?"

You tried to be patient. And where did patience get you? Nowhere. In your mind, this guy was way too testosterone-deficient to be talking tough to you. There was nothing worse than a teenage boy. More importantly, a boy that didn't know what 'no' means.

And in an instant, the sound of a slap resounded throughout the hallway.

He looked like he was about to start crying. Holding his cheek in pain, he sneered, "Fuck you, bitch. You ain't shit anyway. I ain't even want you." But as you tried to walk away once again, he placed a tight grip on your shoulder to prevent you from escaping.

Miles was skipping class and wandering in the hallways when he saw you. From your body language, he could tell you were uncomfortable. His eyes glanced toward the guy's grip on your shoulder, and Miles suddenly understood the situation. He could see where this was heading. Or at least, he believed he did. Miles was about to intervene when within the blink of an eye, you had flipped the guy on his back and onto the floor.

You told the boy on the floor, "Don't try that shit again. With me or any other woman, got it?" Groaning in agony, the guy whimpered in response, and you took it as a 'yes'.

The guy was no André the Giant, but it impressed the hell out of Miles nonetheless. Since when could you do that? He questioned himself. Miles had to prevent his jaw from dropping. He was suddenly glad he never pushed you that far. You walked away unbothered as if nothing had happened. He gained a newfound respect for you. But that would have to stay unspoken.

Once Spanish class rolled around, you realized it was the second to last day you had to finish the project, so you were working extra diligently in Spanish class. You told Miles, "Alright, I finished decorating it. What do you think?" showing him the project. Not that you cared what he thought, but it would make this whole process much easier if he wouldn't shit on your every move. You've had your daily dose of asshole for the day. Almost an overdose, really.

A few moments passed by where he stared at the project, and then back to you. Fully expecting Miles to be his usual asshole self, you said, "Spit it out. What is it?" You waved your hand in front of his face. He swatted your hand away and replied, "I ain't gonna hold you, it's a pretty solid project so far."

You raised a brow at him, and suspiciously asked, "Really?" This was the first time he didn't have any retort to say. "Yeah, I think you're great, ma." He said. You cheekily grinned at him as he tried to correct himself, "I meant, great at the project. Yeah. The project." He almost stumbled on his words. He never did that. He was always collected. What was up with him? It was definitely a sudden change, but you weren't complaining.

There was only a small portion of the project left to do by the end of the class, so Miles suggested finishing it at his house.

This time after school, the both of you walked together to his house. As you worked on the project in his room, you noticed he wasn't getting much done. It seemed like he was in his head, whatever goes on in there. As you glanced up, he locked eyes with you. You hadn't a clue what he was thinking.

You originally would've preferred to do the project yourself, but if you had to have a partner, you believed the work should be divided equally. You weren't going to carry the whole project on your back.

"Why're you slacking, Miles? Our time is limited, y'know." "Ion know. Mind's elsewhere." He shrugged. It was subtle, but you noticed his glance travel to your lips. You grinned and took the opportunity to tease, "What, you want a kiss or somethin'?" You said it mainly as a joke. Sure, maybe you liked the way he gave you a challenge everyday. You wouldn't blatantly admit it, but it was refreshing to be with someone that actually cared about their work. But much to your surprise, he ran his hand over the back of his braids and said. "Shi, maybe it would motivate me. You feel me?"

Not expecting him to agree, you said, "I mean, alright. If you get off your ass, maybe I'll give you one." You tried to say as casually as you could. But you couldn't deny the fact that you were growing fond of him. You were internally conflicted as you wanted to hate him, but couldn't. In reality, it was far from hate.

Miles couldn't exactly pinpoint the moment his detest for you faded away and was replaced with something different. An emotion he rarely felt. Seeing you singlehandedly take on a guy was only fueling it for him. He quickly started working harder on his part. You mentally praised yourself. After a few silent moments, he spoke up, "Yo, I'm basically finished."

He was bullshitting, and you knew it. As you looked at his part of the project, he still had a good chunk to finish. But you caved and moved closer to him. Holding a hand to his face, you peppered a light kiss to the corner of his mouth, just barely avoiding his mouth.

As usual, he had something to say, "Don't play, mami." He resisted the urge to press his lips to yours until they were numb. You simply smiled at him and replied, "Yeah? Keep workin' and you'll earn a real one."

Immediately, Miles got right back to working on his part of the project without another complaint. You've never seen him work so studiously.

Pleased to say, with your motivation, Miles was more productive that day than all the other days combined.

------------

taglist! please lmk if u want to be added 🫶

@l5byrinth @iamspooderman

[devilmademewriteit]

Let Me Love You Like A Woman (Let Me Hold You Like A Baby)

part 3 of Dark But Just A Game

pairing: (pre-ellie) joel miller x afab!fem!reader

summary: you’re in his place. you’re in his bed. will joel ever be anything more than your dad’s friend who occasionally fucks his frustrations into you, or will you always be strangers?

warnings: rough sex/smut (fingering, oral [m receiving] fem penetration, unprotected sex) so 18+ only content; fem afab reader; mentions of reader having long hair; pet names (sweetheart, baby, angel); dubcon (power imbalance); age gap; dbf!joel; angst; mentions of murder and torture.

beta reader: @millllenniawrites loml forever

word count: 4.1k

no use of y/n in this fic

Click here to read part 1, Dark but Just a Game. 

Click here to read part 2, Pretty When You Cry. 

(neither are totally necessary if u just wanna read some filth, fluff, n angst, all u rly need to know is that they’ve fucked twice before & he’s dad’s best friend lol).

a/n: thank u for all the support on this series. i’m literally so obsessed with all of you it’s not even funny. enjoy this while we collectively grieve the end of the season, & i’ll be here writing fic in the meantime. Don’t forget to join the taglist for any and all upcoming work! -em <333333

—

It had taken all of ten seconds for you to lose your shirt, your jeans, and your most beloved pair of (now ruined) panties after stepping foot in Joel Miller’s apartment.

“‘Fuckin’ soaked already—been thinkin’ about me all day, huh?”

And those tantalizing fingers. They were third on the list of things you thought about when you touched yourself, right after his cock and the insatiable look that haunted his eyes when he was inside you. Joel’s talents were wasted as a smuggler—he’d have made a fantastic pianist or maybe a guitarist with the way that index and that damned thumb conspired to make you sing for him.

“Anyone else touch you here since me?“ “No, Joel—just you—only you.” “Attagirl.”

He’d gotten you fully naked (something he’d never bothered to do before) and writhing in his grip in a matter of seconds, laying rough kisses down your spine with patience and attention. Every single one was a spoken promise: I’m coming back for you.

“Look at you, baby, takin’ a real man all by yourself.”

Hands on your hips, knees pressed to the worn-in mattress—every other word in the English language omitted itself from your vocabulary as Joel drew his name from your lips over and over and over again, the thick length of his cock easing you to oblivion with every gratifying stroke.

“Gonna make this pussy come til’ you’re begging me to stop, sweetheart.”

Feeling his cum drip down your thigh, barely having a second to breathe before being manhandled onto your back, hands searching your body, mapping you out like a foreign land before taking him in again. “It aches, Joel.” Crying softly into his neck, tears of pain and ecstasy leaking down your cheeks. “M’jus’ breakin’ you in, angel.” The smell of his hair anchoring your senses to right here, right now as release washes over you again and again and oh, Joel’s hands on the outsides of your thighs to steady your shaking legs.

“Eyes up baby, wanna see ‘em while I’m comin’ on that pretty face.”

Joel tasted like salt and sin and his stickiness on your cheeks felt warm like a late august sun. Watching you blink your lust-filled and trust-filled eyes, grabbing a fistful of your tangled hair, Joel memorized the way your pouting mouth looked painted with his seed. Thick, dark eyebrows creasing together as a groaned ‘fuckin’ hell’ fell from his open lips—with you, he became an artist, and with him, you were a blank canvas.

Now, the moonlit room was quiet; with every primal need purged from both your systems, your exhausted bodies lay entangled, empty and content. Joel’s heartbeat had settled a few minutes after yours—you’d made note of it with your ear pressed to his chest. But every twitch or fidget from the hand resting on the curve of your waist had your own rhythm picking up double-time, sending hot blood coursing through every now-aching limb.

“You should go,” he grumbles after a while, eyes still closed, body still at rest. Fucking you had basically rendered the man comatose. “Your dad’ll raise hell if he sees an empty bed.”

You scoff. “It’s not like he’s ever cared before—remember when Emma and I snuck out to the old mall and I radio’ed him to get us out?” Joel chuckles, remembering the fond memory. After all, it had been him and not your old man who’d shown up to kick down those crumbling cinema doors, partly rescuing you but mostly reaming you out for being such a careless, stupid teenager.

“And either way, Miller, I’m an adult.”

This time, it’s Joel’s turn to scoff. “Jus’ ‘cause you’re legal, dun’ make you an ‘adult.’ You still whine like a kid.”

You giggle softly as he mocks your indignant tone, feeling the lungs beneath you rumble subtly, too.

Joel was always softest and at his most vulnerable after sex. Well, aren’t all men the same? You figured it was just the nature of the act that left its participants a little more tender and a little less inhibited after its completion. It was strange to remember that Joel was a man like any other.

And the man that you’d allowed to ruin you so skillfully, to burn himself on the archives of your mind, somehow remained a complete mystery to you. He was a tangled web of stifled emotions, unspoken sentences, and chilling stories you’d heard from your inebriated father.

If there was any time to untangle him, it was now.

Joel’s t-shirt is damp with his sweat, and yours, too. What a shame that he hadn’t removed it earlier. He was so very impatient when it came to fucking you, and despite having enough patience this time to get you naked, he didn’t bother to give himself that same treatment. At this point, you felt too self-conscious to ask, pretty well certain that he’d turn down your request, anyways. Peeling your profile from the navy blue fabric, you gaze up at him inquisitively, a steadying hand pressed tentatively against his broad chest.

“Can I ask you something?”

Your voice sounds small, like that of a scared child. It makes you cringe.

“Hmph,” he grunts, eyes firmly closed.

Better than nothing. A start.

“Well,” you begin, painfully slowly, tracing timid circles under his collarbone, “Sometimes, I think—”

“S’great, sweetheart,” he interjects in mock earnestness. “Good for you.”

“Knock it off, Miller,” you slap his shoulder playfully. A sly, amused expression teases his features.

After a long, heavy pause, with only the trickling and creaking of the old building occupying it, you soldier on.

“Sometimes, I think that when you’re… well, fucking me… you, well, you kind of use me to—vent.” There. You’d said it. “Like, your frustrations.”

A long exhalation escapes Joel’s lips as he mulls over your words, choosing eventually to respond with cautious and dismissive humor.

“This your way of askin’ me if you’re more’n my human Xanax?”

“No, asshole.”

He hums quietly. The distant sound of a gunshot travels through the open window, dragging you both back to the present moment.

A forced sigh. “I wanted to ask you what you’re trying to get off your mind.”

Joel tenses almost imperceptibly underneath you, an air of seriousness collecting around him.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he grumbles, amusement fading from his tone. “M’not really interested in talkin’ about our feelings together.”

The harshness of his words only entices you to push him again, to understand the man who so clearly understood you. There was something there–likely many things there–that he had fucked into you. Things that you now need to know. Things calling to you like an abandoned childhood home.  

You want to pull him into yourself, crawl under his very skin and exist there for a minute or two. In his bed, in his place, and you’re still worlds apart.

“I’m not asking you to talk about your feelings, Miller. I just want to know that I’m not letting, like, a total, raging maniac climb between my knees.”

It’s the wrong thing to say. His eyes flit open, and as soon as they do, you recognize the vacant, apathetic expression that had characterized him for you all these years. He grunts, pushing himself up on his elbows, and you sit up, yanking at the tangled sheets to cover yourself.

“Ever been outside the QZ, sweetheart?” He asks, his poorly restrained temper slicing through his words.

Looking down at your hands, you trace the cream-colored creases stretching along the blanket, shaking your head no, side to side.

“S’right. Not a single man on this planet that’s not a total, raging maniac. Enough fear, thirst, or hunger…” something truly terrifying creeps onto his expression, a vision of darkness, unlike anything you’d ever seen before. Not with soldiers, not with your father, not even with Joel.

“Everyone’s a killer.”

You swallow slowly, trailing your eyes up to meet his charged gaze. The room feels cold.

“Are you?”

His shadowed eyes narrow with irritation. “Am I what, sweetheart?”

“A killer.”

Then it’s regret and violence corrupting his features, and before you know it, Joel Miller is somewhere else. It takes a long time for him to come back to you (if you can even pretend to claim that Joel had ever been with you in the first place).

He hesitates, huffing quickly with frustration and looking away for a brief moment before focussing back on you—conceding to your question with a quick nod.

An acidic taste collects on your tongue, but his answer isn’t surprising. You’d always known in some way that Joel had taken lives. Still, it felt strange to hear him acknowledging it, to see the pain that admitting to it caused him. His actions actually bothered him. That meant he had a soul in some jagged, twisted form and that certain things could affect it. Thinking about that made your temples hurt.

“For what reason?”

You can’t help it—you’d come this far, and it felt like failure to quit prying. It doesn’t matter that Joel’s a grenade with no safety lever. You know it’s only a matter of time before he explodes, but you’d grown up diffusing your father daily. Bombs were your specialty.

“Does it matter?”

Upstairs, the floorboards creak softly. It almost makes you jump.

“I think so.”

Joel pinches the bridge of his nose, brow furrowing with irritation. Otherwise, he stays surprisingly level. Some hopeful part of you tries to whisper that some softer part of him actually wants you to get under his skin.

“Alright.” You stare at him, stunned at his forfeiture, as he breathes a dark, humorless laugh. “But you’re gonna hate me for my answer.”

There’s a loaded pause as you gape expectantly at him. His head falls back, eyes fixed to the chipping, washed-out ceiling.

“In the early days of the outbreak, before FEDRA had the QZs figured out… things weren’t easy. You gotta understand that.” His gravelly voice cuts through the room’s silence, vibrating through your stilled body. “I’ve killed, tortured, n’hurt more people’n I can count. Sometimes to save myself, sometimes someone else, ‘n other times… other times jus’ because. And,” he groans, laying his back against the pillows as his harrowing monologue comes to a close, “It wasn’t always life or death, either.”

You pull the sheets in close to your chest, shuddering partly due to his words, partly due to his delivery. As if he was warning you. As if he wanted you to hear the truth and…

And punish him for it.

With his eyes shutting again, he can’t see you studying him. He’s probably assumed that a look of abject horror has poisoned your complexion. As you angle yourself to view his resting body—the pained expression causing his eyebrows to furrow, lips pressed tightly together—an overwhelming rush of adoration expands in your lungs, swelling inexplicably and uncontrollably in your chest. Your thoughts blare at full blast inside your racing mind.

Joel was capable; he had blood lust and an inner violence that meant he felt, deeply, and he’d die—or even better, kill—for those he loved. He was…

Joel was perfect.

Maybe it was a fucked up thing to feel—maybe it meant that you needed to be studied by a team of psychiatrists. Either way, the thought of his agonized soul, carrying on out of sheer spite and a reluctant desire to protect his own had you melting at his side. Joel wasn’t static, unfeeling, or a ghost, he was real, and he was alive. Growing up in a near-dead world haunted by once vibrant cities had made that trait alone extremely precious.

He remains still while you move his arm, wiggling next to him to sit back on your calves and looming over his unyielding form. Maybe he thinks you’ve pulled a gun on him and is just giving you a chance to pull the trigger.

Dropping the pale sheet from your breasts, you caress Joel’s harsh jaw in one hand, sneaking the other down, down his stomach and under the waistband of his briefs.

His eyes surge open, finding yours and filling with confusion. You burn with affection, a kind of fierceness that wasn’t there before.

Brow creasing, eyelids fluttering as he hardens in your grasp. You wordlessly entice him once again, bowing down and over to press tender kisses to his neck.

“I could never hate you, Joel Miller.”

He whimpers softly as you stroke him—tantalizingly slow in big, long pulls—it makes your heart flutter to hear him whine for you. 

A refreshing reversal of roles.

You ease your way down, trailing your lips down his scarred side and over to his front, exploring the strip of grey hair marking the center of his abdomen.

Joel watches you, longing on his lips, but the uncertainty still lingers. You need him to listen.

“I’d kill and torture if it meant survival—” you arrive at his hard length, pumping it in your hand right next to your softened features.

“And I would kill and torture for you.”

Without breaking eye contact, you part your lips around the tip of his cock, drinking in his fascination as you take him in slowly, wholly. The head of his thick, impressive length kisses the back of your throat. 

Once again, you’re filled with Joel. 

A soft hiss, and then his face becomes a symphony of pleasure, disbelief, and, finally, hunger. His large hand caresses the back of your head, capable fingers tangling softly in your hair as you glide up and down his length, tasting the salt of his pre-cum and your own acidity on his satin-smooth skin.

He only parts from your stare when you draw lazy, adoring circles around his tip, throwing his head back and grinding out a ‘Jesus Christ.’

It’s almost too much for him when you start using your hands, making it your life’s purpose to eagerly please every inch, every square millimeter of him. You drag your tongue from the base of his length all the way up to the top, silver-lined eyes boring intensely into his own.

“Shoulda let you do this sooner,” he breathes, gently pushing your head down until your nose brushes against those dark, curly hairs. “Look so fuckin’ pretty with a mouth full of cock.”

There he is.

You pull off him, strings of saliva trailing down from your lips to the glistening tip of his length. “You wanna come on my tongue?”

In a haze, perfectly slowly, Joel throws his head back with a low growl. You stroke him affectionately, spit and his own salt collecting between your fingers as you wait patiently for his reply.

Then he pushes himself up to a sitting position, wrapping his rough hands around your upper arms and easing you up off his length. “Not this time, baby.” You’re straddling him, taking in the unfamiliar care spoiling his tone and softening his hard features when he leans forward, locking you in place like a missing puzzle piece he’d spent his whole damn life searching for. His cock rests between your bodies, pressing exquisitely against your abdomen.

“Only got one more in me, sweetheart. M’not plannin’ on wastin’ it.”

He lifts his hands to your face, cupping your cheeks between them like some kind of priceless, fascinating object. It all feels so paradoxical: innocent despite the filthiness of his words, gentle despite the forest fires blazing in his gaze. Searching your eyes, he runs the pad of his thumb across your cheekbone. 

And he kisses you.

It’s not bruising at first—it’s a soft, curious question, an experiment. The grey-flecked hair of his mustache brushes the crescent of your Cupid’s bow, and the feeling almost brings you to tears. So you lean into it, deepening the kiss with hard pressure, searching for the answer on his tongue. That’s when his hands tangle in your hair, and his lips steal the oxygen right out from your lungs as he reciprocates fiercely.

It’s like watching a prisoner take his first steps out into the sun after being held in isolation for a decade. You wonder if it had been that long for Joel.

Without breaking away, you trail a hand down the fabric of his t-shirt. Then, you’re grabbing it from the bottom and hitching it up his abdomen. He pulls away just a half-inch to meet your heavy-lidded gaze, his own marked with apprehension.

“I want all of you,” you plead breathlessly, sliding off his starved lips.

Joel ducks his head, staring at the meeting place between your fingers and his cotton.

“If…” he tries, words clumsy, voice gruff. A bit of bashful humour underscores his tone, too. “F’I let that happen, you’ll see that I’m really jus’ an old man, angel.” You begin to protest, having come prepared with another I-like-them-old-and-decrepit speech, but he cuts you off, anticipating your reaction. “Jus’ been a long time since I looked fit enough for somethin’ like you.”

It’s almost too ridiculous. Joel Miller, worried about how you’ll receive his appearance after you’d deep-throated him for admitting to Geneva-convention levels of violent crime.

This time, it's your turn to cup his face, cradling him reverently between your hands with passionate devotion.

“You and me might be different on the outside,” you begin, surprising yourself with the conviction dripping from your own tone. “But deep down? I’m just as rotten as you.”

His mouth breaks into a genuine smile, and he chuckles, creases lining the corners of his eyes as if carved there by God’s own hand. Nodding with concession, he shrugs his shirt off; you reach out to help him to pull it off entirely.

Scars, definition, and tan skin stretch with every shaky breath he takes. Fuck. The tips of your fingers explore him, honoured by the feel of likely being the first in ages to claim this spot, and that one, and this one here, too–Joel’s turned you into a conquistador, a crusader.

“You’re so, so handsome, Joel.”

It’s not enough to see him, wholly exposed, flesh-blood-skin-scars-and-muscle. Nothing’s ever made you feel so safe and so warm; Joel is a worn-out, hand-me-down jacket that you can’t seem to part with; he’s candles during a thunderstorm, a thick blanket begging you to wrap yourself in it. You want him on you, against you, inside you.

So you take the man, and you kiss him—ardently.

His breathing hitches when you grasp his length, and it stops completely when you slide it between your slick folds, pulling every inch of him inside yourself appreciatively. You swallow his groan as he inhales your gasp.

Your hips move together in tandem. Rocking against his thighs as his hands anchor into your hair, or on your breasts, your ass, your waist—Joel holds you as close to himself as physically possible, threatening to crush you between his arms, dragging his teeth along your bottom lip with a starving kind of need.

Old habits die hard. Joel gets swept up in the way you start struggling to kiss him back, the involuntary clenches of your cunt around his impossibly hard cock, and your helpless fingernails digging into his shoulder blades. Sliding his hands under your ass, he holds your hips steady. Then, he’s spreading you open to receive him more readily, dictating the rhythm, the angle, and the brutality of how he fucks you.

Ruining you to completion was quickly becoming an addiction.

He smiles against your mouth when you give him a muffled “mmm,” releasing your lips to watch, a captivated audience, as your eyebrows knit together, relishing the sound of your lungs filling with short, pleading gasps.

“Gonna be bruised inside n’ out, baby.” Joel’s promise barely registers over the clap of his skin against yours and your own wanton moans. A thoroughly cock-drunken expression and the worship of his name on your tongue win you some hard-earned praise.

“Taken me so many times tonight—been such a good lil’ toy.”

Your lips slide down the stubble and the rough skin of his cheek, limp body giving out with every punishing snap of his hips. Still, you attempt speech, stammering out a “Joel, I-I want—” that’s mostly unintelligible.

“I know, baby,” he coos, words muffled by your hair, hot breath fanning out over the valley of your neck. “S’hard to use your words when you’re jus’ so full, huh?”

After finding the strength to straighten up and face him, your mouth moves from its permanent ‘ah’ shape to string together a pleading, desperate sentence. Joel doesn’t make it easy for you, picking up the intensity of his strokes, dragging you to the edge of bliss.

“I wanna—I want you to show me how to ride you—to take you—please—let me make you come.”

He laughs softly into your shoulder: the sight and the sound of a woman begging to do the work was a kind of rarity (albeit an appreciated one, at his age) in his experience. Acquiescing, he lowers you back onto his broad thighs, slowing his rhythm, and giving you a chance to catch your shallow, uneven breath.

“Only ‘cause you asked so nicely.”

Like a true cocky bastard, Joel leans back against the mess of strewn pillows, casually tucking his hands behind his head and leaving you to steady yourself on top of him, velvet walls still fluttering and squeezing adoringly around him.

You hold yourself up with your palms pressed flat against his chest. Rock slowly and carefully against his hips, observe the sight of your fingernails pressing into his unyielding chest. A whimper tumbles from your sore, parted lips as Joel’s tip nudges your inner-most sensitive spot.

“Eyes on me.”

Hardened hands reach out to circle your waist. “You look at me when you’re riding,” he instructs.

“Show me how grateful you are for this cock.”

His voice is strict and firm but gentle all the same. Joel relaxes underneath you. It feels good—so good—to watch your body undoing his own; it feels even better when he flexes involuntarily inside you, stretching open your sore, aching, and somehow still needy cunt. Locked into his lustful, dominant gaze, you speed up, throwing your hips back to grind enthusiastically against him. He watches first your eyes and then your breasts, palming them, teasing your hardened nipples roughly.

“You wanna touch yourself?”

Low and gravelly and filthy, his question looms over your body, only adding to the soft thud drumming inside the eager bundle of nerves between your thighs. 

He makes you realize that you really, really do.

You nod eagerly at him; Joel gives you a knowing expression of sympathy.

He never could help his condescension at watching you crumble so easily from so little.

“Show me, angel.”

So you do–Joel holds you steady as your hand falls to your clit, drawing clumsy circles over that one aching spot. Your fingers are frustratingly unskilled compared to his, but at this level of arousal, you’ll do anything to ease that mounting pressure. You focus hard, multitasking through your euphoria.

Him watching as you pleasure yourself excites you. Squeezing him harder, riding him with newfound passion—Joel groans as his long-awaited orgasm builds between his thighs, watching you bounce up and down his tense, throbbing length. His darkening eyes beckon you to keep going, to tip him over the edge.

You want to fall into them when he comes inside you.  

He knocks your hand away, replacing your index and middle fingers with a broad, calloused, impatient thumb against your grateful bud. “Ohmygod–Joel–” and the rush worsens, his fingers acting as catalysts for the all-too-familiar sensations spreading across your core.

“With me, baby,” his voice is gruff, restrained by need, want, lust. “Lemme feel you comin’ when I fill you up–s’it, good fuckin’ girl–”

Tears collect on your lashes, and a sob heaves from your throat. You reach your climax for him, the ache from your clit spreading to overtake every inch of your body. Joel comes too. He tucks your head into the soft, damp skin of his neck and fists the hair at the back of your head. Your legs ache with absence the moment he pulls his fingers away from your core. Still, his only instinct as his seed spills between your walls is to pull you into himself as tightly as possible, to intertwine himself wholly and eternally with your young, devoted soul.

He doesn’t let you move after it’s over. One arm circles your waist, the other snakes up your back; it feels like standing at the base of the pearly gates of heaven. When his laborious exhales brush the top of your spine, it’s those damn angels sighing.

And it feels like he’s here. It feels like you’ve landed somewhere together, no longer strangers but something else. Something new. Something stronger. Sweeter. And worlds more dangerous.

Joel Miller running his thumb up and down the plunge of your neck. Joel Miller cursing himself for allowing you to take a hammer and chisel to the walls he’d spent painstaking years putting up, eternities before you were even born.

Joel Miller realizing that he can’t find it in himself to let you leave.

“For the record, sweetheart—I’d torture n’ kill for you, too.”

You have no trouble believing him, smiling softly against his shoulder.

—

TAGLIST: @mads-grace4 @anyas-stuff @liviloo12346 @bookofbee @mattmurdocksgirlfriend @stardust-chords-enthusiast @fruitcupsworld @sallymilkweed @maudlinflowers @sullysflm @sexygaypalpatine @livyjh @s-unflowxr @lostsoldieronahill @daydreamerblues @spacelatinos4life @totallynotastanacc @honeycovered-bandaids @daddy-din @cedricbitch @tiredbuthappy @sweetpea99 @ghostfanwriter @daixylie @witchy-jadda @ninebluehearts @jbcalway @jasminedragoon @inkedells @ayehomo @chapterhappygirl @raeluvshammett

—

Tumblr on mobile loves to destroy my fics by screwing with the last few hundred words SO here are the lyrics to Let Me Love You Like a Woman by Lana Del Rey lmao <3

I come from a small town, how about you? I only mention it 'cause I'm ready to leave LA And I want you to come Eighty miles North or South will do I don't care where as long as you're with me And I'm with you and you let me

Let me love you like a woman Let me hold you like a baby Let me shine like a diamond Let me be who I'm meant to be Talk to me in poems and songs Don't make me be bittersweet Let me love you like a woman Let me hold you like a baby Let me hold you like a baby

I come from a small town far away I only mention it 'cause I'm ready to leave LA And I want (need) you to come I guess I could manage if you stay It's just if you do I can't see myself having any fun, so

Let me love you like a woman Let me hold you like a baby Let me shine like a diamond Let me be who I'm meant to be Talk to me in songs and poems Don't make me be bittersweet Let me love you like a woman Take you to infinity Let me love you like a woman (let me hold you like a baby) Take you to infinity Let me love you like a woman (let me hold you like a baby) Take you to infinity

We could get lost in the purple rain Talk about the good old days We could get high on some pink champagne Baby, let me count the waves

Let me love you like a woman Let me hold you like a baby Let me shine like a diamond Let me be who I'm meant to be Talk to me in songs and poems Don't make me be bittersweet Let me love you like a woman

—

[thehistoriccemetery]

Bg3 Companions respond to: “I’m safe with you, right? You’re not gonna let anyone hurt me?”

Some comfort from our ladies: Shadowheart, Lae’zel, Karlach, and Minthara (sorry to my fellow Jaheira lovers she didn’t make it into this one.)

Also I’m starting to write more full length fics so if anyone has a particular thing I’ve written they’d like to see more on, let me know!

You’re a strong leader and warrior, and you know that. But sometimes the past comes up stronger than you can handle and you think of all the times you needed a protector of your own. In the moonlight, you ask your companions for a bit of reassurance.

Shadowheart

“Of course,” She adjusts your position so she is looking you in the eyes. “Why? Is something the matter? Are you in danger?” Her face is full of worry and concern.

“No, it’s…” you trail off, unsure of how to explain the aching vulnerability in your chest. “Never mind, it was a stupid thing to say.”

You avoid her gaze, feeling a bit foolish for asking such a question. You try to tuck your head back against her chest, but before you can, she takes your face in her hands.

“I’m sorry no one protected you. I’m sorry they let you get hurt before you could stop it. You deserved so much better, but I’m here now. I will protect you.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, and she gently wipes them away with her thumb as they trail down your cheeks. You are so thankful for the miraculous way she can always say exactly what you need to hear.

“The gods really did bless me when they brought me you,” you said, swiping your own tears out of your eyes. “It’s hard to remember when we’ve gone through so much, but I’m so blessed to have you.”

Shadowheart pulls you back to her chest, letting you cry while she gently strokes your hair. If there is one thing she will not let go from her time with Shar, it is the importance of feeling the pain.

You will move through it and she will move through it with you, no matter how long it takes.

She looks up to the moon and says a silent prayer to her new lady. “Guide them through this grief with your light.”

Lae’zel

Lae’zel is terribly confused as soon as the words leave your mouth. You didn’t know she could raise a single eyebrow like that.

“Why would you need my protection?” She asks. “You are a fierce warrior. You are safe with you.”

You smile. It’s not exactly what you were looking for, but the sentiment is there.

“Are you injured? Feeling ill, perhaps? In this case, you have my sword until you heal. I may even be able find that sorry excuse for a cleric around here somewhere…” she rambles until you place a hand on her shoulder.

You explain that you are not physically wounded, and she need not worry. It’s the inside that feels a little broken right now, in your head.

When she pushes a blade to your throat you quickly clarify that it is NOT in a ceremorphosis kind of way.

She retracts the blade, grateful she does not have to kill you, but still confused. It’s not that she’s never experienced what you’re feeling before, but the act of asking for or receiving comfort is unfamiliar to her.

She still wants to help though, so you guide her to sit cross legged on the ground and you place your head in her lap.

You can’t help but giggle as she stares down at you with that confused look on her face. “This is helping?”

“Can you stroke my hair?” You ask, not having grown accustomed to the awkwardness of such direct words yet.

She places her hand in your hair, carefully stroking the top of your head.

It clearly doesn’t come natural to her, but her willingness to try answers all of your questions. No one is ever gonna hurt you again.

Karlach

Karlach pulls you to lay on her chest and wraps her arms around you tight. “You are always safe with me, ‘kay? Always. Not a soul will hurt you. Ever. Again.”

She knows of your past, the pain you carry, the people you’ve lost, how they haunt you. Even before she could hold you she’s been there, beside you for everything.

“We protect each other, remember? You’ve got my back and I’ve got yours.” She asks. You nod into her chest.

You recall all the times you’ve done the same for her. You know the far away look in her eyes, when she is forced to relive her hell terrors once more. Ever since the night Dammon fixed her engine you vowed she’d never wake up from a nightmare anywhere but your arms.

“And what a hell of a team we make,” you chuckle. “Remember that time you ripped that bugbear’s fucking arm off after he nicked me with his mace?” You laugh, lightening the mood with a memory.

Karlach laughed as well. “And it was while I was still burning hot as the hells so the fucker’s fur lit up like a torch.” She was laughing so hard she could hardly finish the sentence.

“And he took out a good chunk of goblins when he went a runnin’,” you rolled off of her, swinging your arms above your head and doing your best bugbear-on-fire impression.

The two of spent the rest of the evening roaring with laughter about your favorite memories and stories. Only stopping when Karlach’s eyes began to feel heavy and the laughter turned into yawns.

“If I have to fight every demon in hell, then I’ll run out of blood to bleed before I lose you.”* You whisper before kissing her forehead and snuggling back up to drift off to sleep.

*(lyric from Penelope Scott’s “Over the Moon”)

Minthara

A look of disgust flashed across her face. Such a blatant display of vulnerability was unfamiliar to her and not befitting.

But when she looked at you, she softened ever so slightly. It was as if she was looking at you how you were when it all happened. She was looking at a hurt child.

Unfortunately for you, vulnerability wasn’t befitting of child in her eyes either.

“Do not ask such foolish questions,” She says passively. “You have not been threatened, have you?”

You shake your head sheepishly. “No, I was just feeling… I don’t know… weak, I guess.”

Minthara drops whatever she was working on before and approaches you, adjusting your body and posture from the droopy form that walked into her tent.

When she has you standing tall with your chest puffed out she scrunches her face into a look even more stern and scary, then motions for you to do the same.

Once you’re in position, she walks around you, admiring you in a slow circle. “Hmm…” she tuts, “you do not look weak. You look rather strong. Like you could lead six…” she pauses, looking for the right word, “hooligans around the better half of Faerûn.”

You can’t suppress the smile that grows on your face, and as she completes her circle, you can see she is smiling too.

But, just to be clear, she is currently committing atrocities on the last person to look at you funny. She would burn down the house of Baenre itself if it meant keeping you safe.

[mere-mortifer]

♥ Sanji/Reader Rec List ♥

40+ fics & authors suggestions! Click here to view this on a separate web page for easier navigation ♥

Sometimes I’m normal about fictional characters, other times I become psycho-sexually obsessed with them and relentlessly look for fanworks where they get smooched and hugged into oblivion. And by characters I mean Sanji.

So here’s a non-comprehensive list of Sanji/Reader fics that I love, most of them rated Explicit. This got sooo long because I kept finding other works to add while scrolling through my bookmarks and reblogs, it goes to show how good the fandom is! (Assume, unless otherwise stated, that Sanji is more on the sexually submissive side, since I like what I like and seek out that dynamic specifically.)

Authors I love

I’m starting this list with a few mentions of my favorite authors, although I’m sure I’m stating the obvious with most of these and you all know them already. Who cares! Go re-read their stuff! Leave a comment! Give them your money!

1. One Piece Works by @onlymurphy

Not to fall into hyperbole, but I owe OnlyMurphy my life. If you’re here reading this list then surely you love this author already, so this a good excuse to re-read the entire Grow Old With Me series. Sanji’s characterization is top-notch, and if you enjoy explorations of his self worth issues and how they would affect an otherwise loving romantic relationship then look no further. Also the author is a very talented smut writer (very talented writer in general, make no mistake), and that's the greatest accolade I can give them. Imagine me putting a gold metal around their neck but I’m the one who's moved to tears about it.

Honorable mentions for the filthiest-yet-very-romantic works in their catalog:

🌶 Do That Again

🌶 Wildest Dreams

🌶 If I’m Lucky

2. One Piece Works by @citrinae

I’m linking the masterlist for this author ‘cause I really like all their Sanji-centric fics, and I’d love, love, love to see more. Sanji is so princely and devoted, just an absolute dream of a man, and he’s putting a lot of effort into making the reader feel loved. He gets stellar results in my opinion.

3. One Piece Works by @thus-spoke-lo (GoldExperience86 on Ao3)

There are three fics in particular by this author that I couldn’t pick a favorite from if you held me at gunpoint: 

🌶 Let Me Help 

🌶 Worth the Wait

🌶 Dear Diary 

Have you ever read a sex scene so good you bypass getting horny and go straight into mourning, knowing you won’t be able to read it for the first time again? That has not stopped me from reading all these roughly a million times. Click on those links. Look at me in the eyes, listen very carefully: click on those links. I say this because I love you and want you to be happy. 

You will find other fics by them in the rec list because 1) I couldn’t resist and 2) I’m pretty sure they have more things posted on Tumblr than Ao3, at least as separate one-shots.

4. 🌶One Piece Fics by @untolduttering

Author, I know deep in my soul that you love Sanji as much as I do. Fortunately I’m okay with sharing. If anything I'm glad I'm not alone in the trenches.

Check out all her fics and snippets, her writing is incredible and I’ve loved every single thing about Sanji she’s ever posted. Each time I open Tumblr and I see a new post by her, my day gets a little brighter. She writes one of my favorite versions of Sanji ever, insatiable and devoted and so, so hot. He couldn’t be more my type if he tried. 

I want to single out her vampire!Sanji one-shot because I haven’t seen this trope used by anyone else and I liked it a lot! It fits so well, what with the theme of hunger and Sanji’s inability to ask for what he needs:

Hunger 

The meta post that inspired the fic

5. One Piece Works by @fanaticsnail

Fanaticsnail, you’re the only one who has ever made me willingly click on a smut fic that involved Doflamingo just because Sanji was there, too, and I love your Sanji so damn much (p.s.: everyone go read it, 🌶 Seat Number Four).

One of their fics also appears in the Sex Pollen section, and since that one is particularly filthy let me add here two fluffy, romantic fics where Sanji is all cute and flustered by the reader:

Kiss The Cook

Your Flirty Chef

Yearning & Pining

The title of the section is pretty self-explanatory: fics where and the reader are not together, but God knows they want to.

6. 🌶 Wanting by @froggiewrites

This fic…holy shit. I’m genuinely writing this with tears in my eyes. The yearning & pining & longing mixed with the sexual tension so thick you can cut it with a knife makes for a truly incredible read. Only for real Sanji lovers, if you’re not nodding along at each desperate thought the reader insert has about this man then I’m sorry but you’re only a casual Sanji liker.

7. 🌶 My heart is thrilled by the still of your hand by ladyhabanera

[screaming crying throwing up] no yeah I’m very normal about this fic, I like it a totally normal amount. In the Ao3 comments I say that “Sanji is so so dreamy—a heady mix of submissive and deeply romantic”, and then if you scroll a little you find my other comment which is just me yelling in all caps at my second reread. I not only stand by both, but I’m doubling down. 

8. Puzzled by @mynewblackdress

What a lovely series, and what a lovely trope…misunderstandings due to bad communication are as irritating and useless in real life as they are incredibly fun to read about. The reader is convinced that Sanji’s earnest compliments are his fucked up way of making fun of her, and it takes a while before they figure out that he means every word. Give it a read if you want a break from the sea of smut that I’ve added to this list, and you're the mood for opla!Sanji in particular. 

9. Sweet Confession by @softonshanks

I have one specific weakness that I’m glad to often see in fics: Sanji getting a hug while he’s busy cooking, and he’s all cute and flustered about it because he didn’t expect the affection.  And this fic has that + Sanji’s a pining mess for the reader, who he’s FWBs with despite the fact that he’s totally in love with her + she’s taller than him and he loves it. I’ve hit the jackpot. I’d love to see more Sanji fics from this author, so much so that I’m gonna ask her pretty please in Italian: Sara, ti prego, facci sognare.

10. 🌶 Your Name by @strawhatsoraya

Now, the one pining in this fic is me. Sanji and the reader are actually complete strangers, but if what appeals to you in mutual pining fics is the gut-wrenching depth of the feelings described, then I think you should check out this little one-shot. My notes on Ao3 are “Tfw when a pwp hits your id so well it bypasses making you horny and goes straight to suicidal”—do with that what you will. Also, check out the rest of this author’s fics and make a whole evening out of it.

Ft. Zoro

Get that stinky Mosshead out of my sight…no, wait, let him stay. I guess we can take turns on Sanji or something.

11. 🌶 Picture You by @froggiewrites

I don’t usually read Sanji fics where Zoro is heavily involved, but I’m glad that that didn’t stop me from clicking on this one (also, to be fair, they take turns on the reader. Well, the reader takes turns on them.) My note on the Ao3 bookmark is “God-tier sad horny Sanji characterisation”...couldn't have said it better, me from the past. 

12. 🌶 Shaken Up Hearts by @lyriumcoloredskies

Okay so I lied, maybe I do like it when Zoro is heavily involved, as long as it’s a collab to team up on Sanji. Sanji gets lovingly demolished in this one, but before he gets there he’s sad like a kicked puppy about not being allowed to kiss both you and Zoro. Who am I to say no to a heavy dose of Zosan in my het Sanji smut?

13. 🌶 Nuvole e Lenzuola by redtendou

This one’s niche because it’s written in Italian. I was stunned by the author’s ability to make a graphic sex scene actually work despite Italian’s atrocious sex-related lexicon–trust me, it’s a struggle. If you’re into Zoro and the reader ganging up on Sanji and you understand Italian, definitely give it a read.

Spa day for the soul

Fics where you take care of Sanji, or Sanji takes care of you, or where there are actual spa activities thrown into the mix. God knows this man needs some TLC once in a while.

14. 🌶 My Pampered Prince by @sheerxfiction

It’s Sanji’s turn to spend some time flat on his back on the kitchen table–it’s what he deserves. If you’re craving a brilliant smutty fic where Sanji gets pampered then you've foudn it, the reader take really good care of him in this one–and I have to give bonus points for the heavy dose of Sanji’s self-worth issues and the readersinsert fighting back against his refusal to get taken care of. Get loved, idiot.

15. 🌶 Shower Time by @chibieggplant

Cute, hot, sexy–I’m talking both about the writing and Sanji in this fic. He takes a shower with the reader and spends the entire time in disbelief that he gets to tenderly wash her body, feeling quite embarrassed by how into it he is, despite the fact that this an established relationship fic. And that’s how I like my boys!

16. 🌶 Vinsmoke Sanji: Not all Men are Rats by livingonadaydream

I love, love, love fics where Sanji gets pampered…but it doesn’t hurt to read the complete opposite once in a while. A very sweet Sanji makes sure that the reader gets a very happy ending.

First Time

We'll never know the canonical sexual history for any One Piece characters because Oda is, unfortunately, a coward. However I'm not surprised that Sanji is considered by many the most virgin to have ever virgined in the history of virginity—so here's a list of fics where you pop his cherry. Be delicate, please...he's very sensitive.

17. 🌶 Say When by @venomatically

This one has to be the first I tell you about. If you go check the comments on Ao3 you’ll find me absolutely losing my mind after my first read, and there’s no quick comment I can add here to fully explain how much I love this author, her writing, and–Good Lord in Heaven–the way she writes Sanji. He’s a virginal pervert. He’s got that dog in him and it happens to be a cute little puppy. He’s so sweet and adoring he can’t bear to tell you how often he thinks about fucking you. I need someone to invent him in real life, it’s not even funny anymore. (Also, if you like to see Sanji actually get a little depraved, check out her other fic, too: 🌶 Letting Off Steam)

18. 🌶 Lust by @tetzoro

Ooh, this one’s hot. It starts so poetic and romantic, but as Sanji loses himself in the feeling the descriptions get more carnal. I love his POV here. Also it involves one of my favourite things ever: the readers starts on top but when it gets too good Sanji can't resist and he flips her over to do all the work himself. Who else cheered?

Sex Pollen

While writing this rec list I realized I have at least four sex pollen fics where Sanji eats something he shouldn’t and then…I wanna say “regrets it”, but the consequences are that he has hot sweaty sex with someone he’s really into. If he were to notice the trend I think he might start putting the wrong thing in his mouth on purpose.

19. 🌶 It’s a what flower?! by @sanjifucker42069

From the blog name alone I knew I’d found a kindred spirit. They have written for both the animanga and OPLA, and to be honest it’s hard for me to pick a favorite work. That’s a lie, this one’s my favorite. The author has a great sense of humor, and this fic in particular is both very funny and incredibly hot. I love how desperate and pathetic Sanji gets, and how hard the reader insert is trying to keep things PG before it becomes obvious they just have to fuck! Good problems to have if you ask me.

20. 🌶 a fever you can't sweat out by @cryocandy

I remember reading this one day right before work. My shift was about to start, and I was sitting by myself in the car reading the smoking hot sex scene for no good reason at all, ensuring that I wouldn't be able to focus on anything productive for the rest of the day. Sanji in this fic is so dreamy and cute and pathetic, all qualities enhanced greatly by the amazing writing. If you don’t think you like fuck-or-die fics, do yourself a favour and read this one anyway. 

21. 🌶 Needy Boy by @maddddstuff

My note on Ao3 for this one was “Single-handedly made me into spanking btw, if you even care”, and I stand by it. He’s the one that gets spanked by the way, in case someone was in doubt.

22. 🌶 Someone Help Me by @fanaticsnail

Sanji’s a mess in this one. A total and complete mess, and I loved every word of it–also, since in the first part Sanji is struggling against the effects of the sex pollen all on his lonesome, this fic might also appeal to my fellow Sanji whump fans.

Dom!Sanji & Co.

Just because I have a preference for Sanji being a sub it doesn’t mean I will scoff at fics where he’s more dominant in bed. Here are the ones I stumbled upon that I’ve really liked! (Also I’m using the term “dominant” very loosely here, in some of these fics he’s simply more assertive in bed.)

23. Too Much (Take Me Home) by @secretwritingspot

This is THEE dom!Sanji series for me. There’s no sex in it, it’s more of an exploration of the sub/Dom dynamic and why someone would crave submitting to another person. Sanji finds himself in the dominant role with little warning, but he’s damn great at it in his usual adoring and tender way. I’m linking the first fic of the series, but the author has written more for this scenario!

24. 🌶 Leg Day by 1LucaCola1

The title says it all; fantastic premise for a smoking hot pwp fic. If I had the opportunity to train and make good use of Sanji’s expertise, I’d also push myself too far until my legs were shaking, and then let him do other things to me to make the shaking even worse.

25. 🌶 very professional nights by @missfrustration

Ugh, I love this one! Sanji is your superior at the Baratie, and he’s so very stern with you until he isn’t at all. Love the bait and switch of a Sanji whose professionalism makes him act a little cold when clients’ satisfaction is on the line but simply melts when he’s alone with the reader. And everything he ends up doing to the reader in this fic, I’d hardly call a punishment.

26. 🌶 Doodled Hearts by Twisted_Inkwell

Soft dom Sanji fucks you hard but he’s sweet talking to you in French the whole time. I don’t know what else to add to convince you to read this one, that should be plenty.

In the kitchen

To fuck the cook, you’ll have to look for him in his natural habitat. Then you can proceed to ruin the kitchen table for everyone else.

27. 🌶 Midnight Snack by BombasticBastard

This fic is a part of a Sanji/Reader/Zoro series, but I’m linking Part 2 where it’s just you and our lovely boy. As the title says, the reader is craving a midnight snack and goddamn, she gets the best one the Sunny’s pantry has to offer. This could also go in the Dom!Sanji category because he quite literally talks you through it, as the kids say nowadays, but he also showers the reader in compliments & he confesses his love, so overall he’s too much of a big ol’ softie to call him dominant in any way.

28. 🌶 All It Takes by mooseskulls

Reader catches Sanji being the pervert that he is, stolen underwear and badly-hidden moans included. This one has both a gender neutral version and a transmasc!reader one, I thought that was lovely–this way lots of different people can enjoy the “getting bent over the kitchen counter” scenario. 

29. 🌶 Compliments to the Chef by @tigreblue

The Author says this is their first fic–if that’s the case, they’ve got a bright future ahead of them. We all know Sanji doesn’t easily accept love and gratitude, but some good ol’ finger-sucking ought to convince him. Things degenerate beautifully from there.

Dark(er)

By darker I mean that I’m adding here fics where Sanji is something other than an absolute sweetheart. You’ll understand how actually dark any of these fics are from my comments and the authors’ tags, but they all have the general vibe of “Sanji is a sleazy pervert” in varying degrees of illegality.

30. 🌶 appetite by @groubee

Ooh…this one’s fucked up. Sanji is an unreliable narrator that makes non-con somnophilia sound kinda cute, actually (it really isn’t.) In his defense he’s written as some sort of incubus-slash-sex-demon. The author doesn’t go into detail but they don’t need to, it’s all about the sickly sweet mood (emphasis on sickly) of a tender lover who’s also a horrible, horrible person.

31. 🌶 Letting Off Steam by @venomatically

He’s a freak in this one, but he’s soooo nice about it and he’s soooo thankful that you’re letting him be a complete pervert who can get away with waking you up by stroking his cock over your face. 

32. 🌶 Smile for the Camera by @thus-spoke-lo 

This one broke my heart and turned me on at the same time, I give it a full five stars. It’s a short and sweet one-shot where Sanji breaks down all your walls and then does the same to your trust in men…enjoy!

33. 🌶 Compliments to the Chef by @thus-spoke-lo

I realize only now that this fic and Smile for the Camera are by the same author. That’s not gonna stop me from reccing this little series, too–in the notes on Tumblr you can see that this was written for a “sleazeball collab”, which should tell you something about Sanji’s characterization. While reading this I felt like that lady in the comic about sexual harassment on the workplace…like yeah maybe I would be okay with it if the guy was hot enough. And by workplace I mean a shitty restaurant, and by guy I mean Sanji in the role of the line cook who smokes too much and is very transparent about wanting to bang you on the counter where lunch service is prepared.

34. 🌶 Use me by moosetracksandscenechanges

This fic! My God! I’m adding it here not because there are hard kinks or morally dubious dynamics between the characters, but I still think it fits. It has its sad moments due to a generally darker atmosphere and a more aloof version of Sanji (not that aloof, still recognisably himself)...but also he willingly gets tied to a bed. Sub Sanji lovers stay winning. My hopeless romantic heart hopes that Sanji and the reader will actually get together, but there’s a lot to love about the fwb dynamic they’ve got going on right now. A bittersweet read in the best way.

35. Conjugate the Ways by @secretwritingspot

Oh, Sanji has a foul mouth in this one, but he’s speaking French so he’s forgiven…also the reader has no idea what the hell he’s saying to her. It’s creepy in a cute way! The fic doesn’t include actual smut, it’s just Sanji fantasizing out loud about the things he wants to do with you, but if you’re in the mood for some good ol’ sexual tension, give it a read.

36. 🌶 Ma chérie by marriedtosanji

He lied to you! About being French, of all things! I would never forgive him. He’s really good in bed though, so he makes up for it. The smut here is so delightful it does a 180% and goes back to breaking my heart over the fact that I’ll never meet a cute stranger in a bar who wants to seduce and is also Mr. Sanji Onepiece himself. 

Voyeurism

I swear this isn’t even in my top 10 kinks, I guess that Sanji’s character simply inspires a lot of authors to put him in situations where he’s staring. Watching. Ogling. Observ–you’ve got the gist of it. 

37. “It’s entirely too obvious [...]” by @ofallthingsnasty

[giggling and kicking my feet] the reader makes Sanji sweat cold in this one…I love when he’s nervous, I love when he’s desperate for forgiveness! He doesn’t do anything bad, but the fic is all about him watching the reader eat and obviously liking it a bit too much. The mood is suggestive but overall it stays pretty innocent until the end.

38. 🌶 Voyeurs by snackshack

Thank you Zoro and Nami for your help in making this happen, we couldn’t have done it without you. Sanji and the reader are in a freak4freak relationship, a match made in Heaven. Very good smut and a delicious premise!

39. 🌶 Perversion by glossyjoonie

@Sanji: babygirl you suck ♥ Short and sweet fic part of a larger collection (there are other Sanji-focused chapters, check out those ones, too!) where Sanji gets caught spying on all his favourite ladies: Nami, Robin, and you. Robin sticks around for a while in this one, but in the end the reader is the one who shows Sanji what happens to boys who misbehave.

40. 🌶 Just Between Us by @mytanuki-kun

This man is always spying on you in the shower, in bed, from behind a bush or whatever…it’s about time he gets a taste of his own medicine. I adore this fic, I remember reading the first chapter and hoping the author would update as soon as possible because I was hooked. Sanji catches you ogling him in secret and he plays into it cause he’s a horny bastard and the love of my life. The writing is incredible and Sanji’s characterization is so, so dreamy and sexy and adorable.

That’s all, folks. You have enough material to survive a nuclear war, you can spend many happy decades closed in your bunker eating canned food and reading reader insert One Piece fanfiction. 

My final, desperate request is this one: does anyone have the link to a Sanji fic where he’s 40 years old and he hired a babysitter (you) for his kid, but then one night the kid is somewhere else and you two end up hooking up? Please? Pretty please? I think it was part of a collection or series but I can’t find it anywhere!

[chaoticbardlady99]

I Wondered If I Could Come Home? (Astarion x F! Reader)

Synopsis- It’s been 4 months since you last saw Astarion and 3 months since you killed the Netherbrain with your other companions. Shortly after, you settled down in Silverymoon to begin a life out there and try to push Astarion out of your mind- except it can never be that easy. You shortly discover you are pregnant with his child- a child that could kill you during childbirth. Scared and alone- Shadowheart stays with you to help you deliver the baby and keep you alive.

While out at the local market, Shadowheart runs into Gale and invites him over for dinner. Gale has unexpected company.

CW: Pregnancy, mentions of potential death during birth, mentions of nudity, mentions of NSFW smut

To my fellow DND fans- no this is probably not canon compliant, yes I’m upset about that, but look I really needed to write this so sue me I guess

Author note- Self indulgent, I have baby fever, but don’t want a baby fic. I’m unsure of how long this will be or if it will have more parts-it depends on how angsty I feel, but I need to have like six different ideas to think about at a time soooo 😂

*This hasn’t been edited ✨well✨so please forgive me

*again, no fucking clue who’s picture it is, but it sure as shit isn’t mine so if it’s yours- reach out so I can give credit!

You keep yourself propped up against the sink in the kitchen as Shadowheart holds your hair out of your face and dabbing away the cold sweat that drips down your neck.

You are really sick of being morning sick. It’s absolutely the worst thing in the world- well besides your potential death from carrying your little girl inside of you. You sometimes think Astarion may get his wish- you may just die screaming.

You dry heave one last time- not a single thing comes up because you haven’t kept a single thing down since two mornings ago. Your morning sickness is inconsistent and comes on with little to no warning.

It’s been five months since you conceived this fricken kid, but it was like all the symptoms hit after you killed the Netherbrain.

A part of you really wishes you had somehow known before then- maybe it would have changed the cruel fate that ended your relationship with Astarion. You were literally pregnant in the middle of fighting Cazador. You think about what he last said to you all the time and just sob hysterically- like it happened yesterday.

A deeper part of you feels abandoned, but you blame yourself for him leaving. You should have been more convincing or maybe you shouldn’t have flat out told him no and explained why in the hells you didn’t want him to ascend.

For example- you didn’t want to lose him to some evil version of himself.

Ironically, you lost him anyway and are pregnant with his fucking child who insists on occasionally making you miserable.

Despite your inherent sadness, anger, and sickness, you find you are actually quite excited to meet her. You haven’t settled on a name yet and Shadowheart has been very helpful in regards to making sure you are healthy and strong for delivery. She’s your best friend and you could not be more grateful for her.

“I’ll go back to the market today and get you more of those herbs,” Shadowheart says quietly when she talks to you, “they seemed to help last time?”

You nod- exhausted and your head is pounding. You and this kid are going to need to have a serious conversation. You will not be letting a second Acunin make you miserable before she is ever born.

Shadowheart guides you to your bed upstairs, standing behind you in case you get hit with a wave of vertigo- which usually happens post vomit episode.

You pull your curtains closed- thankful that the desperate hope in your heart led you to buying black out curtains. You close your door and lay down on your bed- tears spilling down your cheeks freely.

You miss him terribly. You shouldn’t. You should positively hate him, but everyday of this pregnancy makes you ache for him. You should be doing this together.

You know it’s hormones- the weepiness, the intense longing, and the Gods awful horniness. Dreams are the worst. You wake up a squirming disaster at least three times a week with your skin burning hot with memories of Astarion touching you.

You are happy that isn’t the case currently, but the weepiness sucks too. Remembering how he used to curl around you, the way it felt to have him kiss you on the forehead, and all those late night conversations with (now empty) promises. You curl yourself around your pillows, willing your imagination to pretend it’s him, and you sob until you fall asleep.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Astarion tries to contain his excitement and fear as he follows Gale and Shadowheart to your home. Finally, after searching for literal months, he was going to see you again.

Astarion has been haunted by the last words he had said to you for what feels like eons now. He hadn’t meant it at the time and he certainly doesn’t mean it now.

He had been too afraid to come back to you after everything he had said. Astarion decided you probably hate him anyway so he tried to move on.

He tried being with other people (it always failed miserably because they weren’t you), he drank until he couldn’t remember a damn thing, and when all else failed, he began his search for the Ring of the Sunwalker.

After the nightlife of Baldur’s Gate lost it’s appeal and he finally found a ring location, Astarion found himself in front of Gale’s door in Waterdeep- begging him of all people to help him.

The wizard had been puzzled and melancholy when he realized Astarion was at his door. Astarion told him every little piece of how he feels about you, how much he misses you, and how he wants to be able to give you the life that you deserve. Astarion was practically on the verge of hysteria while trying to make his case.

Thus began the search for the Ring of the Sunwalker.

They were able to locate and obtain one after a grueling three month long journey and some help from one of Gale’s old friends. Then, they headed straight to Silverymoon- your last known whereabouts.

Running into Shadowheart had felt like a miracle, but to also have her living with you had made the trip even easier. Except Shadowheart was being really really weird towards him.

When Gale first asked if Astarion could come along too, Shadowheart had asked Astarion why he wanted to come and see the person he “hoped died screaming?”

Astarion had flinched at the anger and venom in Shadowheart’s voice. He figured the others would be mad, but he was hoping maybe Shadowheart would give him a little easier time like Gale had. Astarion was genuinely surprised by how quick she was to be defensive of you and your whereabouts. When Gale confirmed that Astarion was telling the truth, Shadowheart reluctantly said he could come.

The three arrive at the front of your shared townhome- it faces the beach and has the perfect amount of windows for the sun to light up the house, but one of the rooms is hidden from sight with heavy, black out curtains.

Shadowheart turns to both of them, “Tav might not be able to join us… she’s been sick for a bit now and is… recuperating.”

Astarion feels his heart drop to his stomach.

“Sick? For how long?”

Shadowheart shifts on her feet uncomfortably, “5 months, but it got worse around 3 months.”

“Tav has been sick for that long?” Gale exclaims, “why didn’t you write!? I could have helped.”

“This particular affliction is one you wouldn’t understand,” Shadowheart says with a finality that suggests the conversation is done as she leads them into the kitchen.

Shadowheart immediately gets fussing with the herbs while Gale looks around the house. Astarion is still unsure of what he should be doing. The house engulfs him in your scent and he feels positively intoxicated. You must be really sick though because your scent smells different- not bad at all, just different.

Does he talk to Shadowheart? Does he look around with Gale?

Or does he sneak off and find you? Astarion doesn’t want to waste anymore time than he already has. Slowly, he creeps towards the stairs.

“Don’t even think about it, Astarion,” Shadowheart warns.

Astarion looks at her and then back at the stairs. He does this a couple times until Shadowheart appears to be annoyed enough that she’s let her guard down a bit.

Astarion takes off up the steps and he hears Shadowheart and Gale coming up right behind him.

Astarion hears a dry heave from down the hallway and he goes racing for the door.

If you are as sick as Shadowheart has suggested (5 months is crazy long), Astarion may not have much time with you and Gods he needs to take advantage of the time he does have.

Shadowheart be damned.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

You wake up feeling even worse than you did when you fell asleep. Your headache feels like it’s taken on a life on it’s own and Gods you are going to vomit all over the floor if you don’t move NOW!

You get up with an impossible amount of speed for how dizzy you are and you grab the pail on your nightstand and heave painfully.

You are rocking back and forth, groaning as more stomach acid comes up because again, not able to even keep anything down.

You hear a pair of footsteps and then Shadowheart screaming after-

“ASTARION! THEY ARE SICK! YOU NEED TO WAIT!”

“I have been looking for them for months now,” you hear him hiss, “if they are sick, I need to see them. If this has lasted five months- then who knows how much time I’ve wasted!”

“Will you stop being selfish for five minutes!? It’s not about you and who even says she wants to see you!?”

Shadowheart and Astarion are yelling in front of your door now. You feel tears prick your eyes- Astarion is here. Here here. A flurry of excited kicks from inside you catches your attention and a feeling of blissful happiness comes over you. Oh look, the nausea is gone. Of course it is.

“Traitor,” you whisper before laying down on your bed for a moment.

You are very happy that your unborn daughter appears to be pleased and feels good about her dad being on the other side of the door. You, on the other hand, are less than optimistic.

Wasted time doing what? And why did Shadowheart say I was sick!? In what world was that going to keep him from going upstairs!? Especially if he, your mind pauses, cares about me? Again?

Which you hope he does- you would hope Shadowheart wasn’t so sick of taking care of you that she brought him here to finish the job. Maybe this is all one big show.

Another, “I WILL DO WHAT I PLEASE” from Astarion, a “YOU SELFISH BASTARD” from Shadowheart, and a “Please can’t we all just be nice, catch up, and get along?” from Gale finally gives you the motivation to get up. The arguing feels far too much like being in camp again. You pinch the bridge of your nose, willing the growing headache to go away.

It doesn’t so you change into a pair of longer cotton pajama pants, a t-shirt that is unfortunately showing off your bump more than you’d like, and then you swing open the door in tired annoyance.

You are met with Astarion looking at you- his eyes scanning up and down your body- settling on your stomach. His expression is unreadable- it’s somewhere between lust, love, grief, and heartbreak. Embarrassed by Astarion’s intense gaze, you look over at Gale who is all smiles for you.

“Congratulations Tav!!!” Gale practically yells, making you wince, “the father is a lucky man.”

“I don’t think he considers himself a lucky man,” you say pointedly before turning to Astarion, “or do you?”

Astarion’s face changes entirely with your words. His eyes look at you, round and soft. His eyes are full of adoration and need- a look you never thought he would give you again. You have to fight the urge to grab him and drag him into your bedroom. You will not let the hormones win- you will be strong.

“I- it’s- I mean,” Astarion is fumbling over his words, “you are carrying my child?”

“Yes,” you say grumpily, crossing your arms,” and she’s been giving me nothing but trouble. Thanks to your genetics, I’m sure. This is day two of not being able to keep a damn thing down and this fucking headache is UNBEARABLE so please for the love of every God keep the arguing down.”

Astarion is still looking at you with a mystified expression- taking you in as if for the first time in his entire life. You look back towards Gale and Shadowheart- you are entirely too self-conscious and way too excited to see him for him to be looking at you like that. You are trying to be mad dammit!

Shadowheart gazes at you and your surely red tipped ears with amusement before she says, “I’ll go and get the potion ready for you- that should hopefully help.”

“I will- uh,” Gale says awkwardly, looking between you and Astarion, “join you! I might need to know which herbs to use… in the future?”

“Planning on getting pregnant Gale?” You say with a smirk.

Gale snorts at you, “Dear friend, as wonderful as you look right now- none of the side effects sound appealing.”

“Oh they most certainly aren’t,” you say,” but thanks for thinking I look ‘wonderful’. I feel, well, disgusting.”

“Gods, how could you even think that?” Astarion blurts out, appearing shocked that he even said it, “you look like…. A vision. A wonderful, stunning vision, Darling.”

Shadowheart and Gale excuse themselves as you struggle to find the words for Astarion’s comment. Your entire body feels like it’s on fire and you feel yourself begin to melt a little bit. You feel your emotions bloom into something resembling spring as he steps closer to you- looking at you with pleading eyes.

You clear your throat, “would you like to come into my room and talk?”

Astarion nods eagerly, following behind you so close that you once again have to remind yourself that ripping off the clothes of someone who literally told you they wanted you to die screaming was not healthy- at least not until you get a proper apology.

You sit against your headboard as Astarion walks around your room- running his fingers along the bassinet and rocking chair in the corner. You still can’t get a read on him.

“A girl?”

His question breaks the air.

“Yes,” you smile at him, “no name yet though.”

“I’m sure you’ll pick a nice one,” he says with a smile, but his tone is entirely too melancholic.

A painful thump in your heart fills your body with sadness. He doesn’t want to be involved. Of course he doesn’t want to be involved. You are his knocked up ex-girlfriend. What were you expecting? The lump forming in your throat is unbearable.

“You don’t want to be involved?”

Oh good Gods you are crying. Astarion rushes over to you the minute your tears begin to fall- sitting in front of you on the bed. He reaches out and gently wipes your tears away as he speaks.

“I want to be involved so badly it hurts,” his voice comes out scratchy and emotional, “but that is your decision, not mine. You have been on your own for months, my Love. Instead of trying to come back and make it better- I pushed it off until I thought I could give you what you deserved- a life in the sun.”

You almost whine in protest when his hands leave your face. He twists the ring around his index finger before continuing, avoiding your gaze, “But maybe I was wrong. Maybe what you deserve is a person that isn’t so damaged. Someone who can give you what you actually deserve which is a loving partner who hasn’t hurt you over and over again- a man worthy of being a father to ou- I mean your child.”

His confession and the tears that are streaming down his face are enough for you. Yes, you absolutely want to scream and yell at him, but you also ache for him. You can’t fault the man for being a slave for 200 years and then not taking it very well when you told him what to do. You always knew you would forgive him if he came back- you never thought he would, but here he is and like he said- there is no reason to keep wasting time.

“She is our child, Star,” you whisper and guide his eyes to look at you, “I want you to be involved. I don’t care what you think I deserve either. I have missed you so horribly since you left. It’s almost pathetic really. I’ve tried to blame it on the hormones, but… I don’t know. The picture has felt incomplete up until now.”

You absentmindedly put your hand on your stomach- receiving a kick. You glare at the place where your hand is resting.

“Will you stop kicking me for five minutes!?” You scream, “I WAS IN THIS BODY FIRST!”

Astarion looks at you bewildered and confused, but quickly realizes you aren’t talking about him. The smile that spreads across his face is wide and Astarion gingerly moves closer. You are still a little cautious- needing to protect not only yourself, but also your unborn child. He moves to the right of you and goes to move you just slightly so he can slip in behind you.

“Could I? I mean if it’s not crossing any boundaries!”

Astarion is on edge- you can tell that much, but he doesn’t look at you like he did that last time you saw him- Astarion is looking at you like you are the most precious individual who has ever walked this earth.

You nod shyly, and then Astarion slots himself behind you, your back against his chest, his face in the crook of your neck, and his legs on either side of yours. He cautiously puts his hands on your stomach and is immediately kicked.

Astarion laughs with joy, “she’s strong!”

“Strong willed and strong physically,” you shake your head and you are laughing a bit now too, “you may just get your wish yet.”

“What wish?”

It had slipped. You hadn’t meant to bring it up again- or maybe you did. You want to know for sure if he still feels that way, but the confusion in his voice says he doesn’t. You go rigid and go to dismiss it when you feel his posture change behind you, his grip loosening ever so slightly.

“Right… that.”

The silence is nerve-wracking. You’ve lost him again, you are sure of it. A stray tear begins to roll down your cheek.

“Astarion-“

“No, let me think, Darling. I want to make sure I say everything I want to say correctly.”

You continue to sit there in silence, he places soft kisses on your neck. You feel him smile against your skin at the needy moan that escapes your lips. You absentmindedly reach out for one of his hands and begin to play with his fingers while he thinks. Astarion used to let you do this all the time while you were traveling- it helps you feel grounded.

“I was so consumed by all that power in the moment,” he says slowly, “I wasn’t thinking. By the time I had realized what I had done, I felt like it was already too late- you most likely hated me and moved on.”

You have to bite your tongue- you want to scream. Hate him? Never. You had been miserable without him around for that last month of traveling. Your heart had felt like a dead weight in your chest and you had been moving around like a zombie.

“So I tried to move on… I even tried to be with others, but I just couldn’t do it. It’s selfish, but I want you. I never want anything bad to happen to you- I certainly don’t ever want you to die screaming. I don’t want you to ever carry a child that is not mine.”

You are surprised by the warmth in your core when he says his last sentence. There is something so primal there that you have to really focus on what he is saying next.

Astarion clears his throat before finishing speaking, “I don’t want to be without you anymore- four months is too long. I don’t want to miss out on anymore of your pregnancy and I want to be here for you- with you- doing this together like we should have been doing this whole time. I was a horrible fool- please give me another chance. Please, Darling. I love you- so so much more than I ever thought anyone could ever love someone.”

Astarion’s words hang in the air and you are trying not to begin crying for the 15th billion time. This is what you had wanted to hear all along. You can feel his tears on the collar of your shirt- the way he inhales as if to memorize your scent like this is the last time. Astarion is not expecting you to say yes- you know that because he’s starting to loosen up, pulling away from you so that he can respect your decision.

“I love you too,” you whisper, “I don’t want to be without you anymore either. I forgive you- please stay.”

“I won’t be going anywhere unless you want me too, my Love.”

[ghostbustting]

hihi, i love your writings! can i get a 80 slash fic where it's around halloween time and the reader was force to attend a party with her friends. Slash notices reader and how hot her costume is. ( a bit modest version of the playboy bunny outfit ) Slash is cocky but the reader doesn't know who the hell he is but after a few drinks...they are upstairs doing the devils tango. 😈

Idk why this took me so long yet so effortless, but october seems to be the perfect month to post it 🙌

♯ ; “𝑩𝑬𝑯𝑰𝑵𝑫 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑩𝑼𝑵𝑵𝒀„ ༘⋆

Saul "Slash” Hudson x Fem!Reader.

Contains SMUT ; p in v, squirting, dirty talk (?),

oral (f receiving).

The smell of booze and sweats fill my senses, I guess you can already imagine how terrible it is. I can't even remember when did I ever agree to step a single toe into this god awfully packed Halloween party? At this point, I'd rather go trick or treat instead around the neighborhood and receive some sweets by the end of the night.

The whole night I made it my quest to try and stick close to my friends, following them, a similar sight to how dogs would follow their owners around. It was never my desire to attend this party anyways, wasn't quite of a party person at the first place, let alone a Halloween party where I have to dress up in costumes and shit. Yet my friends were quite hard to resist, forcing me to come with them to this party.

So here I am, standing at the corner of this unknown loaded house in my terrible attempt of a Playboy Bunny costume, buying my costume from the nearest store available just a day before the party, despite the cheap fabric making it look like I only put on a black swimsuit and a bunny ears bandana. It was quite revealing, I could feel eyes on me as I walk around, but who the fuck cares?

My friends were long gone from my sight, last thing I seen from them was when they were dirty dancing around some dudes. Unfortunately, I was no fan of that activity, leaving me to just stand in the corner of the party like an absolute outcast. I didn't mind. I had my cup of drink and that was enough to keep me occupied till my friends are ready to take me back home.

News flash, they never did take me home.

In fact, I have completely lose sights of every single one of them. Those little fuckers dragged me here and literally left me to rot between all of these party animals when I could've had a movie night back in my place. What a waste of a Halloween night. Isn't it?

I crush up the empty red plastic cup in my grasp and swiftly threw it away into the trash can, which everyone seems to be oblivious of, judging from all the empty plastic cups laying around on the floor, ready to cause someone to trip and fall.

However, the still fueled up plastic cups set on the table have managed to catch my attention yet again as I find myself making my way back to that table and seeking another cup of drink, which makes this my... third drink..?

My mind shrugs off the forgotten count of drinks as I spot one particular cup with more liquid filled inside besides the other cups. A grin on my lips, my arm stretches and my hand reached out for the cup.

Only to be met by another hand.

A big calloused hand that belonged to a man I couldn't place who or where I would recognize him from.

My eyes trailed from his hand that was lightly touching my own, up to his face, which was mostly covered by those voluminous curls of his hair, a hat sitting perfectly still on top of those curls. Behind those curls, were eyes that peeks through his own strands of hair with a gaze that met mine almost instantly. Almost as if he was inspecting me just like the way I seem like I was inspecting him.

"This cup's taken, sweetheart." He spoke to me, his voice causing a rather odd and unfamiliar tingling feeling in my stomach.

Only then did I realize how warm the feeling of his skin was against my cold one, his voice able to mute out the loud rock music that has been blaring through the speakers all evening as he say, “Or should I say.. Bunny.” This time, he ends his words with a chuckle, eyes trailing up and down my costume.

I raise my eyebrow at him and reluctantly let go of the cup from my hand, “Whatever.” I muttered before taking a different cup displayed on the table, yet somehow still feeling the gaze of those eyes that belonged to him on the side of my head, gaze so strong that he was practically burning a hole right through me. Just as I turn to him again with a sip of the drink, it was proven that he was indeed still gazing over me.

A sigh left my lips from the liquid that cleared my throat, my hip carefully leaning against the table while I listen as words seem to leave him yet again, “No company, Miss Bunny?” He ask, his hand reaching up to deliver the cup to his lip, I watch his adam’s apple bob as he swallow the liquid.

”My friends are here, but they… well, they found other companies.” I shrugged.

I hear him click his tongue and shake his head, “And let you isolate yourself over there in the corner? Sounds like a bunch of fakers to me.” He scoffed, a small smirk playing devilishly on those lips he owned on his face.

”No, no..” I shake my head with a small chuckle, “I didn’t want to attend this party at first anyways, so—”

”Well, why the fucking hell not?!” He threw his arms up, the liquid spilling from his red cup just a little, “With a costume as sexy as this, I surely thought you’d be much more of a party animal.” WIth each words he spoke, I can feel more and more the way his gaze seems to caress the skin of my body up and down. It was rather odd… it made me feel a certain feeling in my heart that made it beat faster, my thighs clenching just a little. Or was it just the effect of the drink? I couldn’t even figure it out before he spoke yet again.

A step was taken from his shoe, his body moving closer to my own, “How ‘bout I show you the real fun of the party? Some talking, dancing, more drinking maybe?” The mysterious man suggested, that same smirk on his face, “I’ll keep it appropriate. I promise, Miss Bunny.” He spoke almost in a teasing way that I was quite confident this night wouldn’t end up in such an appropriate ending anyways.

”Fine then, rockstar looking guy.”

The moment I let my decission slip out, the moment names were shared, and the moment my third drink became my fifth, time seems to fly in a way that is quicker than ever. Each joy of a party that the guy— Slash showed me became a comfort I found building up in me around him. My still somewhat sober part of a brain tried desperately to comprehend whether this feeling is caused by the alcohol in my system or just purely by the fact this man is so mesmerizing. Perhaps even both of those.

The more information I learn about him, the more I feel a magnetic sort of pull towards him, I just hope my pupils aren’t heart-shaped at this very moment. As time passes by, it feels as if I’ve known him for decades and decades already, in knowledge of small details of his very own life. HIs famous band, Guns ‘N Roses, his love for snakes, his guitar skills.. Can he be any more interesting?

Touches were shared here and there, especially when we joined the people dancing around to the music. His large warm palm on my waist was a touch that have been spiritually tattoed onto my skin, a touch to think back every now and then about the strange and mysterious— yet charming stranger I met at the Halloween party.

I mean, honestly, I didn’t know how it all ended up this way.

However, my half sober guess was a 100% correct guess as the first moment we were just dancing and drinking innocently, the second moment we were in some random bedroom, the third moment.. I'm on top of his body, stradling his naked lap as I bounce up and down his large cock, moans pulled out of my lips like a dirty prayer. His hands were yet again placed on both of my waist as he help me bounce up and down, the tip of his cock that was already slick from my saliva moving smoothly in and out of my hole.

”Oh god, yes!”

I gasped, my head thrown back as dirty moans cannot stop pouring from my lips which were smiling widely from ecstasy. Looking down, my eyes lands on the ripped stockings I wore and the way his cock slipped in and out of my dripping cunt, not to mention the way one of his hands have moved to use his thumb on my clit, rubbing harsh circles.

The bastard was smirking back up at me, small grunts leaving his lips as he buck his hips up to me every here and there, “Shit— How are you so fucking tight?” He chuckled breathlessly through his grunts, the circles he rubbed over my clit became more urgent while his hold on my waist tightens to the point it might leave a mark.

My mind was clouded, I couldn't think of another thing other than how good his cock filled me up, fitting just perfectly inside of me as if his cock was made specially for my cunt.

Eventually, my body fell ontop of him as my body became weak, limp with his cock still burried deep inside of me. Slash didn't let that stop his fun though as he suddenly flipped our position, positioning me on my stomach on the bed while he took his position behind me, hand on my hip and the other on his member.

"Gonna fuck this pussy so hard.." He grunted as he finally pushed his head through my folds, pushing a lewd moan out of my throat, "You like that, mm? Such a good bunny, aren't you?" He laughed, his hand coming down to smack across my ass.

The sting that lingered on from his palm caused me to gasp loudly, eyes rolled to the back of my head till they were shut tight with my face pressed into the pillow, "Fuck! Please.." I cried out as he thrusted in and out of me with a pace of no mercy, no resistance, hips snapping back and forth as sounds of skins slapping fills the room.

His arms slowly trail to wrap around my stomach, as if they were snakes lurking around me and ready to feast on me. I feel him placing his weight on me, chest on my back while he press his lips onto my ear, "Gonna fuck you dumb. Now you can be a real fucking rabbit."

Those were the last things I managed to hear before I feel him thrusting in and out of me again. Hard. And fast. I could hardly utter out a letter as my words were taken away by each pump. He was fucking me like rabbits would, humping like rabbits do. It was rough. It was dirty. And I loved every single second of it.

I can feel the veiny skin of his cock dragged in and out of my walls, the tip hitting every single spot that made the pressure bunch up even more in my stomach which only increased when he tightened his arms around it. Nasty moans left my lips, so loud that it eventually turned to lewd screams, eyes rolled to the back of my head.

"S-shit!" I gasped, "More, more.." My words came out in a desperate pant of lust, my ass trying to grind back against him.

Yet another breathless laugh escaped him, "Dirty slut.." He spat, one of his hands trailing up to slip two digits of his fingers past my lips, to which I instantly sucked on like— as he worded, an asbolute dirty slut. Humming around his digit and swirling my tongue around them, I feel him twitching right inside me.

Yet somehow, he never ever changed his pace, staying determined on that rough and deadly pace that made me feel like I'm on cloud nine.

I pull my face away from his fingers as I gasped out, "Close.. I'm so close.." My hand flew to his arm as I hold it tightly, needing something to hold on before I could pass out right on his devil of a cock. "Please.. finish me.." As much as I hate hearing myself and admitting it, I sounded the whiniest I've ever been, underneath him, begging him to give me the best orgasm I ever had.

"You're fucking crazy if you think I wouldn't.." He grunted, fingers digging into the soft skin of my waist as he finally starts slowing his pace, obviously just as close as I was, at the same time he reached down to my sensitive clit, rubbing those same harsh circles he did earlier.

It didn't take long enough before I let out the loudest moan I did tonight right as the fluids of my cum came squirting out of my cunt, "Oh fuck! Fuck!" I gasped, never once experiencing an orgasm like this. Eventually, I feel his own thick cream filling me up till I'm full of him, his voice groaning right in my eyes, something I wish I could listen to every sinful night I went through.

As soon as we finished, Slash pulled out of me and pulled my hips up so my ass was in the air. Being in my fucked up stance, I didn't know what was going to happen till I feel his warm tongue lapping our mixed cum that was oozing out of my folds, eating it out like he was starving man.

My throat was way too tired to even be loud anymore, only letting out a quiet and strangled moan as he finished, hopping onto the spot on the bed right next to me, a wide devilish smirk already on his glistening lips that was soon attatched to mine, my tongue tasting both of us with a grin building in my own face.

I feel him reach for my bunny ears and took it off me. Only when we pull apart that I noticed he have put the bunny ears on himself and place his own hat on my head.

"You look stupid."

He laughed at my statement while one of his thumbs ran over my ruined and smudged make up. "You still look sexy, bunny."

Well damn it, I guess I love Halloween.

[ifyoucandaniel]

I want to thank you for making your list of recommended long batfam fics. I have been making my way through it and I am really enjoying them! ESPECIALLY cards on the table (I also love Dark Matter but I had already read it). Please let us know if you ever get more long batfam fic recs 🥺

okay so ive been waiting to answer this until i had gathered a good chunk of new long fics and ive been getting a lot of similar messages asking for recommendations, so here is another list of my fav long batman fics!

Jason and the Three Terrors by @cdelphiki, 220k, ongoing, T. if i can get you to read one thing, let it be this. ohhh my god where to even begin, this is a fic where jason stays with the league after his dip in the lazarus pit for a little while and winds up being charged with getting damian, his cousin, and his sister out of the league safely. this fic is just so fucking good, cdelphiki always writes such seamless relationship growth and watching jason go from "im dropping these brats off first chance i get" to "im a single mother of three and i need to provide for my kids" is phenomenal. 1000/10, the writing, the kids, the relationships, please do yourself a favor and read this.

A Collision of Masks by Movaz, 169k, completed, T. !! guys. this is such a good dick grayson-centric fic. this is set in an AU where batman never joined the justice league so the justice league knows very little about batman inc. and consequently dick never joins YJ so the YJ team is tasked with checking out a new hero called nightwing in bludhaven and police officer grayson is tasked with helping the team in their investigation :) really good fic exploring dick juggling all his identities and finally gaining people he can rely on! i actually did a bind of it so you know i love this story so much

Life Happens by @cdelphiki, 176k, complete, G. ok so this fic is probably one of the most beautiful stories of growth and love i've read. its about tim and damian being transported from their world into ours where they're only comic book characters and they start to build a life for themselves here. cdelphiki is one of the most amazing authors, im currently going through all of their works, but this one has just stayed with me and i dont think anyone should pass it up. watching tim and damian grow together and seeing damian have a real childhood and just the whole concept of life happening wether you want it to or not is so beautifully done. cannot recommend enough.

Honoring Promises by LananiA3O, completed, 14k, T. okay this isnt actually a long fic, but its one of my favorite fics ever and i need it on this list. if you're like me and you love UTRH aus where instead of sticking around as red hood after bruce threw a batarang at his throat jason fucks off and disappears to live a normal life, this is for you. from dick's pov, he realizes jasons last letter was a last attempt at reaching out and stalks him until he finds out what really happened to his little brother. i think about this every day and wish it was 10000 words long

The Time Before by @cdelphiki, 80k, completed, G. at this point this is basically just a cdelphiki fic rec lmao when i said everything by them was good, i meant that shit. this is a fic where jason is sent back into time when he was 9 years old but still has all his memories from the future. he goes to bruce for help despite wanting to do literally anything else and is surprised to realize maybe everything isn't how he remembers it 10 years in the future and maybe theres a chance he can go home when hes older again. once again cdelphiki hitting me in the feels with this one, really amazing study on how time and pain can change how you perceive and remember things and also just forgiveness and fixing mistakes and accepting mistakes were made. very good, highly recommend

Good Fences Make Good Neighbors by Sophene, 80k, completed, batlantern, T. I have no excuse for this, this is such a fun and funny fic i love it so much. basically HOA president single dad bruce with his 10 million adopted kids and then hal jordan moves in next door and plays his music too loud at 10pm on a school night and throws parties and bruce has a stick up his ass about it. i really really love the shift in hal when kyle comes to live with him as his ward (? i cant actually remember if hes adopted or just a ward) and seeing him finally understand why bruce acts the way he does when it comes to his kids. also seeing bruce just being a tired dad 90% of the fic when he isnt glaring at hal is so good.

Option C by CasualGeek, 78k, completed, T. this has, in my opinion, a very unique and interesting premise. basically, what if instead of becoming red hood, jason comes back to gotham and manages to get Joker put on trial for the murder of sheila haywood and get the insanity plea thrown out. really interesting approach to batman and joker and jason technically doing things through the legal justice system and what that means for him and the people around him. very good, read it all in one sitting

butcherbird, fly away home by e_va, 41k, completed, M. lost days jason todd loml! basically what if when jason was off on his world tour one of his tutors kidnapped bruce wayne and jason has feelings about it against his will. "what if lost days jason was stuck in the same room as a sick bruce for more than 10 minutes and actually had to talk to him without punching him" AU and i throughly enjoyed it. @darlingatlas recommended this one and she never misses with the jason recs

this kind of weather by r_astra, 55k, completed, T. this is the fic something in the static was originally inspired by and if you know me, i love that series, and i love this fic too. another what if jasons mom didnt die until later and social services gets involved before he can bolt and bruce seeks him out with some very interesting news. i love fics that display jason’s relationship with crime alley and him being one of them. very good, i love jason so much

ok now these aren't actually long fics but i need to get them out here because i love them so much and highly recommend!

To My Brother by a_silly_gander, 7k, completed, T. Lost days jason au where he starts sending post cards from his travels to dick on a whim while we follow his time away and the people he meets. i love this one so much, please read it if you love jason and dick, its so special to me.

Enhanced Fashion Sense is a Perk of Being a Cat by 12pt_timesnewromanfont, 23k, complete, G. selina breaks into drake manor to steal a cat artifact and accidentally meets the drakes ten year old son they left home alone. then she starts keeping tabs on him and eventually adopts him and makes him stray. i really love selina finding tim before bruce and taking care of him <3 10/10 i wish selina would adopt me

[theatre-mqn]

Okay, hear me out: CharmingHearts Time Loop AU.

Because Rise of Red has me in a fucking chokehold, and I am letting myself be strangled.

(This is a fic I'm in the process of writing - unfortunately it might take a bit since I don't have anyone to bounce ideas off of. the life of the only rise of red fan in the friendgroup :D)

The day of the coup begins as per normal.

It's September 1st. Red wakes up in her room.

She gets dressed and heads down to the courtyard, watching one of the newer card soldiers - a 6 of Spades - nearly trip over the carpet on the way there.

She attends court. The Jack of Diamonds nearly gets executed at her command - until Maddox shows up right on time and presents the Queen of Hearts with King Ben's Letter of Invitation. So they go to Auradon Prep, The Queen of Hearts gets her deck of cards past the guards at the entrance, Red watches Bridget and Ella get their "reunion" -- and meets Chloe for the first time in the process -- and then witnesses her mother stage a violent coup against Auradon, and gets coerced into sentencing Cinderella to death.

Now an innocent woman is going to die, everyone thinks that she's just like her mom, and that girl - Chloe Charming, her name was? - has her sword drawn, and is seemingly about to go on a suicide charge to try and attack the Queen of Hearts.

Red panics and activates the time machine she stole from Maddox.

Except this time, in this universe, the pocket watch doesn't quite have the effect that Maddox intended. In this universe, something goes wrong.

It's September 1st. Red wakes up in her room.

She watches the 6 of Spades trip over the carpet. She watches the Jack of Diamonds get dragged off to the dungeon - again.

She watches the invitation to Auradon arrive.

She watches her mother sneak the cards through the checkpoint, watches Bridget and Ella's tense conversation.

She meets Chloe, again.

This time, Red knows what's going to happen - what she needs to do. So during the ceremony, she steals her mother's deck of cards, attempting to prevent the coup from occurring. Except the Card Soldiers don't seem to care what hand the deck is in - they come when their Queen calls, ever loyal - ever fearful.

So the coup happens again, despite her efforts.

This time, she refuses to sentence Cinderella to death. So her mother, furious, has the guards lock her in what was initially intended to be her and Chloe's dorm room until she "decides what to do with her".

No matter. She messed up this time, but she knows better now. All she needs to do is --

.

The pocket watch doesn't work.

She clicks it - once, twice, three times. Nothing. No flash of light, no spiral back in time, nothing.

She's failed.

Red watches Cinderella's execution from her dorm - what would have been her dorm, if she hadn't failed, hadn't wasted the opportunity given to her, if she had just been a little bit stronger. She watches Chloe lunge at the Queen of Hearts - now the Queen of Auradon - with her sword drawn, only to be dragged off to God-Knows-Where.

She can't bring herself to think.

She just lies down on what would have been her bed, and before she knows it, she's asleep.

----

Red wakes up in her room.

It's September 1st.

It's still September 1st.

What the fuck?

----

It takes about two more resets before Red finally comes to terms with her situation - an embarrassingly long time, though if you think about it, it technically hasn't been very long at all.

On the 3rd loop, she tries to steal the cards from her mother before they set off for Auradon. That doesn't work - they just end up in her hands again, somehow.

On the 4th, 5th and 6th, she tries to warn the guards about the coup. Every single time, she gets laughed off - or worse, caught and punished.

On the 7th loop, she tries to warn Cinderella. Keyword, tries.

Her mother doesn't even let her get close enough to speak.

It's on the 8th loop that Red finds out she can't die - when she tries to physically stop her mother from unleashing her soldiers, and ends up sentenced to be beheaded for for treason alongside Cinderella.

She wakes up the morning of the 1st of September with a jagged scar looping around her throat.

On the 9th loop, she starts talking to Chloe.

It's hard, at first. Small talk, almost painful in it's awkwardness - the tension between their parents certainly doesn't help.

It's hard the second time too, and the third, and the fourth, and the fifth. She's not used to talking to someone who isn't subservient, isn't scared out of their wits of the terror her mother brings.

(She's not used to talking to someone who's genuinely nice to her.)

(She's not used to being genuinely nice to someone, either. Even despite the pang of guilt that Chloe's hurt expression puts through her chest every time she says something wrong, every time she fucks up.)

But day by day, reset by reset, Red starts to learn more.

She learns that Chloe's favourite colour is, unsurprisingly, blue. She learns that her Father's name is Christopher, and that she has an adoptive brother named Chad. She learns that she's planning on joining Auradon's Swords and Shields club.

She learns that one of her biggest dreams in life, above anything else, is to become a hero - a Knight.

(The brave, blue idiot. Of course it is. She's seen Chloe charge at her mother with naught but a sword and a roar of righteous fury at least 5 times now.)

(She's seen her get run through with a spear in retaliation for 3 of them.)

(She's seen her get beheaded for it once.)

The loops keep coming. Red keeps failing. But talking to Chloe makes it ever so slightly more bearable.

Even so, it does hurt sometimes, to know the Princess so well when she never, ever remembers Red in turn. To watch Chloe die or be imprisoned at her mother's hand again and again, to see the betrayal in her eyes - betrayal that turns to shock and horror in the fading corners of Red's vision after she grabs the nearest Card Soldier's spear and drives it through her own chest.

(What? It's a more efficient method than just going to sleep.)

The day repeats, over and over. Red keeps learning more and more about Princess Charming. She keeps trying to save her, over and over.

It doesn't work. It never does.

( "I'm going to fix this," she swears, on the 20th loop - while they sit together in a cell, awaiting their inevitable executions.

Chloe almost laughs at the notion - but something in the Princess of Wonderland's eyes makes her want to believe her.

When they get dragged out to the courtyard and forced onto the chopping block, when Red takes her hand in hers and offers her a cocky, confident grin, she almost does.)

Red keeps trying anyway.

Because any amount of deaths, any amount of executions, any amount of resets, is a fair price to pay to give Chloe a better outcome than this.

It's the very least she can do for her only friend.