#profuse apologies for taking so long to answer

[vxnuslogy]

— a proper knight.

pairing: dainsleif x gn!reader

premise: fading memories of bygone pasts are no stranger to dainsleif, but if there were two things he still remembered it's his journey with an outlander, and his beloved mentor who loved flowers.

— warnings: slight angst if you squint

— author's note: khaenri'ahn people will always hold a special place in my heart. this has been in the drafts for so long and it's finally going to see the light of day!!! thank you ray ( @mikashisus ) for proofreading this <3. art credits to @.birdsofpasssage on twt. | 2.1k words.

a knight has seven virtues: courage, justice, mercy, generosity, nobility, hope, and faith. dainsleif often wondered why faith was a virtue he must have to become a knight, it seemed silly to have in a nation that believed in no god, but he was proven wrong when he first saw you.

“the nation’s finest knight,” “khaenri’ah’s greatest talent,” and “the light bringer.” these were all the titles given to you in your many years of serving this nation. just like how his father told him, khaenri’ah’s finest knight was fearless, just, and merciful. you embodied the hope this nation craved—a guiding light. he often wondered what exactly you saw in him to take him as your apprentice. but when he asked the question, you gave no reply and asked, “what’s your favorite flower?”

dainsleif was confused—was this flower loving knight really khaenri’ah’s greatest talent, the same harsh instructor everyone feared? dainsleif let out a heavy breath when he realized he might have signed up for the wrong job. but like the first time he saw you swing the sword, all his initial doubts were quenched. you simply loved flowers because they contrasted your brutal animosity on the battlefield—a reminder of the fragile and beautiful home you grew up in and the weight of khaenri’ah’s fragile hope of the world.

yes, you were harsh, and yes, you criticized every swing of his sword, but you cared. deeply so that you would drop to one knee in front of a crying knight who profusely apologized for retiring—the burden of being a hero was too great. you would take the burden of others out of their hands and carry them yourself, even if it meant burning out the light the people gave you. 

that day, dainsleif found a new purpose for being a knight: to ease your burdens and see you rest under beds of the flowers you loved the most, free from all worries. so he trained, long and hard until all his bones began to quake and beg for rest, and even then he never stopped. he trained until he adopted your way of fighting in the bloodshed—even when bloodied and on the brink of death, turn to your comrades and give them hope; a reason to fight until the end. he learned to bask in your silent company, weaving inteyvat like second nature, as if these delicate flowers could bind both of your souls together in a silent promise. 

you were quiet in your affections and bitterly cold in your duties, but even when dainsleif hangs his head low as you appoint him his title, he feels the gentle grip on your sword. he hears the crowd cheer and applauds, he takes this as a sign to raise his head, and he’s grateful for the neutral expression you’ve instilled in him since his trainee days. one soft look in your eyes that’s directed at him and he’d go down on his knees and kiss the ground beneath your feet—offer you the stars that hang in the sky and demand a seat reserved just for you in celestia’s abode.

the both of you sneak away from the festivities and dainsleif takes this chance to ask, “why the title of twilight sword?”

he believed you wouldn’t answer—you never did—and to no one’s surprise, you simply placed an inteyvat behind his ear. gloved hand brushing his hair back and securing the fragile flower in place with khemia. 

“you’re still young, my stubborn apprentice,” you start, voice carrying years of wisdom unknown to him. “you’ll understand when you’re a proper knight.”

dainsleif furrowed his brow in contemplation. wasn’t he already a proper knight? the title given to him should prove it, so what did your words mean? dainsleif should’ve stayed in the garden until dusk arrived. cherished the already scarce moments he had with you, but you can’t blame him for the hurt you had caused because how dare you view him as a little boy. 

he’ll never have the chance to yell at you or even get mad because, by the next few days, his home will be bathed in a crimson catastrophe. dainsleif couldn’t even process anything properly as you jumped into action—carrying the sword in your hand, cape flying with the wind as you barked orders. “protect the people! you are all knights, experienced or not, your duty is to protect your home.” your voice reverberated in the chaos before diving into the battlefield head first.

you were nowhere in sight and dainsleif had never felt so helpless in battle. all the confidence he's built over the years comes crumbling down as he forces his band of knights to retreat—their defeat was already set in stone. but he couldn’t give up yet so he stayed in the fray, swinging his sword, searching for survivors, and hoping to catch up to you. he knows he’ll die if he doesn’t retreat but he can’t bring himself to be sheltered when you’re still out there, fighting for your life.

the sky burned a deeper crimson as the fury of the god’s raged on. amid the battle, you stood there, all on your own, a figure of unwavering resolve and devotion. dainsleif watched in silent agony as you took down monster after monster, racing against the time you don’t have. he knew, dainsleif knew deep down you would not come with him, and that thought makes him falter. how can you, the person who taught him to fight for all he’s cared about, suddenly teach him how to leave everything behind?

“[name!]” he shouts, voice being lost amid battle, as he runs in your direction. dainsleif feels a bile rise to his throat as he tears his gaze away from the bodies littered at your feet. the flowers you dearly loved were now revolting. “we need to retreat.”

“i cannot,” you cut down his hope like a knife. you turn to face him, all the hope he once admired in you now gone as you walk farther away from him. “leave, dainsleif. let me handle the rest.”

“i won’t leave you here to die in vain.” he catches your wrist and tugs at you in the direction of safety. “we’ve lost, light bringer. please, retreat with me.”

you break his hold on your wrist, your gloved hands stained with blood cradle his face before shoving him harshly and desperate. “my duty lies here in khaenri’ah and i will die upholding it. but you are different my stubborn apprentice, allow yourself to be more than just the twilight sword.”

“what am i supposed to protect if you aren’t there to encourage me?” he questions, unsure of his purpose if you weren’t there to help him.

but you only smile—kind and reassuring. “you will make a fine knight one day, dainsleif. do not let this one defeat sway your resolve. i did not train you to give up easily. now go,” you push him further and further as the monsters roared and the gods rained their fury.

the weight of your decision was palpable—dainsleif couldn’t bring himself to breathe as you jumped into battle once again. he wanted to be your sword, the one to aid you in battle even when he’s no more than a rusty piece of scrap metal. he wanted to scream at you, how could you abandon him so easily when he’s spent all these years staying by your side? but you still turned back, eyes no longer as hopeful as before but they still flickered faintly. 

“carry on, dainsleif,” you whisper to him from a distance, amidst all the screams and crimson sky, dainsleif still hears you. it was not a command—it was a promise.

dainsleif’s last memory of you was the beds of inteyvats beneath your feet and the tears that stained your cheek. that was over 500 years ago, and the memory of that cataclysm was still a fresh wound in his mind. in those 500 years, dainsleif traversed through teyvat, following every and any trail of the abyss order to put an end to this madness. all the while, he found himself picking flowers from each nation, pondering which would be your favorite.

he’s always imagined your second meeting to be bittersweet; a harsh cut to the heart with you laughing at someone while dainsleif stood on the sidelines. but that wasn’t you at all, because when you do meet for the second time, it’s by a bed of sumeru roses and wild flora as you indulge in the aranara’s amusement. 

dainsleif has always thought you were meant to be like this, not a valiant knight covered in scars and blood, but an angel bathed in moonlight as you sang the kids a lullaby and wished them a good night. you were meant for flowers and crowns, not a sword or shield. 

he takes one step, then two, and then he fully stops. dainsleif wanted to approach—the yearning to catch up with the mentor he grew to love—but he was scared. who was he to disturb your fragile happiness? you had survived a great catastrophe and are now living a happy life, he no longer had a part to play in your story. this guilt for failure was his and his alone to carry. who was he to disturb your quiet sanctuary when he left you behind for 500 years?

“not going to say hello to your old mentor?”

dainsleif feels an arm drape across his shoulders, bringing him down to face your height as your other hand comes to pat down his blonde hair. “i taught you to be chivalrous and courteous. don’t tell me you’ve forgotten in a measly five-hundred years?”

500 years wasn’t a number to scoff at, yet here you were, the same hair that was swept away from your eyes and the same confident stance. you let him go and the two of you fall into a silent walk. to where? dainsleif’s not quite sure. he didn’t want to drag you into his scuffle with the abyss, he’d much rather have you stay somewhere in sumeru where you’d be safe. but he knew, deep down dainsleif knew, you wouldn’t pass up the chance to know what truly happened that day.

“you’ve been blessed with a new life,” he mentions and motions to the cryo vision on your hip. “you can leave khaenri’ah behind now.”

you only shook your head. “teyvat has treated me well these past five hundred years, but i’d much rather come back home.”

dainsleif presses his lips into a thin line and says nothing. what could he say, after all, throughout the years he’s been with you, not once has he ever convinced you to retreat. he was snapped out of his daze when your hand came to pat the back of his head. you no longer wore gloves, and dainsleif swore he could feel every callous and gentle press of your palm.

“you’re so grown up now,” you say in jest, eyes twinkling with uncontained amusement. “don’t take my last statement about you to heart, dainsleif. you have always been a proper knight, i just didn’t want to see you go so soon.”

he stays silent and allows you to pat his head like a child. when the two of you start walking again you tell him your reason for his title.

“twilight is when light and darkness merge,” dainsleif’s eyes never once left yours as you talked. you just smile and continue. “it’s a period where the world becomes uncertain, just like you. that’s why dusk is the one to give birth to dawn.”

dainsleif lets out a small sound between a scoff and laugh. “i still don’t understand why you carry the title of dusk. why not let someone else carry the burden?”

you chuckle and look over to the horizon. “i simply do not wish for someone to suffer as i have.”

“you’re foolish,” he mutters and you hum in reply. he tears his gaze from you and instead looks over to the rising sun in the distance. “why did you choose me that day?”

“you were the only knight who would willingly cross hell before he arrived in heaven.” 

dainsleif furrows his brow in confusion. even after 500 years, you still spoke in riddles he couldn’t decipher without any hints. “i have no desire to go to heaven if you’re not there. my duty will always be bound to the abyss.” 

“like a mentor, like a mentee, still so stubborn to uphold a duty that’s long passed. but even then, you’ve become a fine knight, dainsleif.” you compliment.

“i had a stubborn teacher, but they were the best of the best. the greatest knight in khaenri’ah.” there was a joking air to his response and you let out a chuckle. your hand comes to rest at the back of his head and gently pat it as you both look away from the rising sun.

“well, shall we go back home now?”

© vxnuslogy 2024. do not plagiarize, repost, or translate any of my works without my knowledge or consent in other platforms or websites.

[swordsandholly]

Cherry Bomb - tattoo parlor anthology

MDNI | poly 141 x fem fat reader | masterlist

cw: menstruation (not graphic), afab anatomy

Part 4: “Girl Problems”

You shift in the office chair, stomach lurching uncomfortably. It’s been bothering you today - groaning and moaning nonstop. So far you blamed it on the suspicious chicken salad you got from the discount grocery store. You took every stomach soother you could, all the way down to chugging tea on the hottest day of spring so far.

With a rather pathetic groan you stand to meander your way to the bathroom. Surely sitting on the pot will help - at least as a placebo. Just as you do, though, a very distinct wet feeling makes itself known. You freeze, briefly, as if it will go away if you stand still enough.

“Ah, fuck!” You gasp, grabbing your purse and jogging down the hall to the single bath stall and popping the lock shut.

As soon as you sit, you let out a small sigh of relief. At least you caught it before you turned your underwear into a total crime scene. You’d rather not have to explain to John why you need to go home and change. You dig through your bag to your usual pocket of various supplies. From lotion to a sewing kit. It never hurts to be prepared.

Except, as you rifle around, you’re not finding your usual stash. There should be at least three in here… when did-?

The very loud, distinct memory of a girl at a bar stopping you while canvassing for some sanitary products hits you like a train.

“Whatever you’ve got I’ll take.” She practically begged. So, you handed them all over because got forbid someone get stranded during the most hellish week of the month. Like you are now.

You make a deep, frustrated noise in your throat and bury your face in your hands. You’ve been meaning to put a basket of backup wipes, pads, and tampons in the little bathroom cabinet - not just for you but for customers, too. It just kept getting pushed off when you got busy with other things.

Shit. What are you gonna do? If you put your pants back on you’ll just bleed through them in ten minutes. Cursed with a heavy flow (or blessed with a strong connection to the moon, as your former hippie roommate insisted.) Less time than that, probably, based on the vicious cramp that travels from your lower back to pelvis. You won’t be able to get to the corner store with out leaving a war crime in your path.

John’s the only person in the studio right now. He doesn’t have a client for another hour or so but you’d rather die than tell your hot boss you’re bleeding everywhere. For a few, quiet moments, you violently bounce your knee and go through every possibility. Maybe you’ll suddenly turn into the flash and you can get home before anyone even notices. You don’t really have much of a choice, do you?

With another groan you pull your phone from your pocket, thumb hovering over his contact for just a few beats too long while you work up the courage.

>> ok so this is terrible

>> im so sorry

>> but im having girl problems and am stuck in the bathroom

>> im so sorry this is so unprofessional

Girl problems? What are you? In fucking middle school? Before you can send yet another in a long string of planned apologies, John answers.

J >> How can I help?

>> i dont have any products on me

>> meant to stock the bathroom

>> sorry

J >> Stop apologizing

J >> What kind do you use? I’ll go to the corner store up the street

You breathe out a sigh of relief, still nervously gnawing at your lip as you send him what you need with an example picture (just in case) and profusely insist you’ll pay him back. John refuses. You’ll just have to sneak the cash in his tips or something.

It isn’t long before you hear the front doorbell ring, heavy footsteps, then a gentle tap on the bathroom door. “Y’alright, love?”

You perk up. “John, I’m so sorry-“

“Didn’t ask if you were sorry. Asked if you were alright.”

You snort. “Yeah…”

“I’m goin’ to unlock the door to slide these in. No lookin’ I swear.” John says. As if you were worried about that. You trust John. More than maybe any other man you’ve known (not that the bar is very high.) It’s nice of him to say, though. The door barely cracks open, just enough for him to toss the box to you across the floor and shut it immediately. You barely even see his arm. “That all you need?”

“Yeah. Thanks.” You murmur, bending awkwardly and snatching up the box. “I’m really sorry. I know it’s not really… appropriate.”

“Love, it’s normal. It happens. Just get y’self situated.” John taps the door once before you hear his footsteps drift down the hall toward the front.

You feel a bit skittish the rest of the day. You know it’s stupid. John’s a grown man and it’s a natural thing that happens and it’s fine. He said it’s fine. If it wasn’t fine you probably wouldn’t still look up to him the way that you do - the way that you have since you came here. The way everyone else seems to. Even so, you step around him a little wider than usual on your way out - keeping your head hung low and both hands tightly gripping your purse.

You chew your lip, shifting in place as he locks the front door. “Look, John, I-“

“If you apologize again I’m gonna fire you.” John mutters, pulling on the door to make sure it’s properly secured. There’s humor in it, though, the corners of his lips quirked up slightly.

You scoff, still not quite able to meet his eye.

“Sweetheart, look at me.” When you don’t move fast enough, apparently, he tilts your head up with a light touch. His eyes are so warm despite their icy blue shade. Sparkly in the setting sun. “Any man worth his breath wouldn’t give a shite. I’m sorry if that hasn’t been your experience, but really, it’s fine. I’ll help you out a thousand times over if y’need.”

“Okay…” You murmur, suddenly very distracted by the feeling of his fingers touching your chin, light as is it. You pull away and clear your throat, hoping he doesn’t notice the growing heat in your cheeks. “Well, uh, see you tomorrow, then.”

John nods, still smiling. “Sleep well, dove.”

When you come in the next day, you expect to get teased. A snide comment or a sideways look. You would have at any other job you’d worked - especially one with all men. All giggling and poking at you like a bear they know can’t bite back. No one says a thing outside of their usual greetings when you make your way to the front desk, though. Johnny pinches your hip like normal, Simon greets you with his new pun of the day, Kyle gives you a distracted wave over the hum of his practice gun. John doesn’t bat an eye when he says hello and checks in about the plan for the day.

You open the bottom drawer that you usually tuck your purse into, pausing before you set it inside. At the bottom, neatly tied together with a piece of twine, sits a king size chocolate bar and a pack of Midol.

If John notices the way you become extra smiley after that discovery, he doesn’t comment.

A/N: This was very self-indulgent but I’m having a bad time over here and need to be saved.

[qlossytbh]

𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐜𝐮𝐭 - 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐱 𝐛𝐚𝐮!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 Spencer reacts to your new hair-do

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 fem!reader, just a lot of disgustingly sweet fluff, Spencer’s a blabbering mess, sweetheart!reader, sunshine!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 1.3k

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 i actually find this one so cute oml

𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

You walked the corridor, taking long strides as the sound of your heels clicked and echoed across the hall. You smiled sweetly at your fellow co-workers, as you struggled to hold the papers and books in your arms. 

People around the BAU usually loved bumping into you in the morning, mainly because of how infectious your good mood seemed to be. You always walked into work with that huge smile displayed on your features, immediately infecting those around you. No one understood how someone as bright and, in a sense, pure as you could work in such a mentally demanding environment. You’d sometimes take part of seeing the crime scenes and assisted in a few of those cases, but during most of them, you’d stay around and help Garcia with certain tasks and whatnot. 

You waved at one of your more familiar coworkers as you hurriedly made your way to the conference room, desperately trying to make it to the meeting where the rest of the team was waiting. A small wave of anxiety rushed through you, knowing that Gideon was bound to scold you one way or another for being late.

As you turned the corner, your body collided with someone else's, causing a few files to fly away along with two or three books, landing lightly on the ground. A small groan left your lips as you rubbed your arm, before you began to profusely apologize. "I’m sorry, I didn't—"

But to your suprise, when you motioned your gaze upward, you were welcomed with the familiar view of one of your favourite people in this whole office. "Spencer!"

You couldnt help how an increadibly wide smile splattered onto your face as you realized it had only been him whom you bumped into. You noticed however, how Spencer was just staring at you dumbly, moth slightly fallen agape, looking as if not a single thought was going through his head— which was a rare ocassion. 

"Your hair—" He said barely above a whisper as he took in your face. 

You furrowed your brows before dawning with realization. “Oh!”

You hand ran up to your now shoulder length hair and combed your fingertips through the ends of it with a small.

"Yeah, I felt like cutting it all off, seemed eaiser to maintain and I was aiming for it to be healthier, but I’m still getting used to it you know.." You said, leaning on your heels and looking at your friend who seemed too dozed off to be listening to anything you were saying.

And that he was. Spencer had been too busy rerunning his daily schedule in his head as he walked the halls, coincidentally, just as late as you are to the exact same meeting. He felt like an idiot for bumping into someone, cursing internally at himself, and felt even more horrified as he realized that it had been you. And to make matters worse, he had sent all your papers flying everywhere. The embarrassment he was feeling at that exact moment was uncomparable. 

But every running thought stopped when he looked at at you and god. He felt like wind had been knocked directly out of his chest and suddenly his mind went blank. He stared at your now short hair, admiring how incredibly breathtaking it made you look. 

The length framed your face perfectly, encentuating your cheekbones and jaw structure and from what he could see, you’d also gotten a small fringe done. Your cheeks glowed a natural pink hue while your eyes gleemed happily and Spencer couldve sworn in that instant second that you were the most beautiful thing he’d set his eyes on. 

"—Spence." You cut through his thoughts, reeling him back to reality. "You in there?"

He swallowed nervously before nearly jumping to his feet just to answer and prevent you from thinking he had some sort of mental problem for staring so much. "Uh— Yeah! R-right here.."

You dipped your chin slightly as he continued to look at you, your ever persistant smile still plastered onto your features. The sudden pattering of your heart didn’t deter you from observing Spencer with a curious gaze, wondering what was going on in that big head of his. "It's short…”

He mentally slapped himself. You laughed.

"Yeah, it is actually! Didn’t really plan on it being so short, I asked them to leave it longer but the hairstylist lady didnt really listen," You chuckled to yourself, running a hand nervously through your hair. "Do you like it?"

Spencers stomach was doing all sorts of flips and turns as you gazed up at him, looking so sweet. But he couldnt seem to emit any sort of words, anything he thought of responding seemed wrong and the words he wanted to say wouldn't move past the back of his throat. His eye quickly caught a glimpse of your scattered papers. 

"Shoot, uhm—“ He bent down and began collecting all of the pages together nervously. You offered him a humored smile before beinding down and helping him with all the fallen objects, shaking your head at his endearing antics.

It was always so humorous to see how collected and steady Spencer usually was, alwasy able to keep his thoughts into one straight line, aiming to get as much information out as possible, in the most cohesive way possible. He usually held himself so cautiously and carefully. His intelligence was something you loved about him. 

But to see how much of a blabbering mess he’d become around you, made you think very fondly of him. How his hands would begin to fidget nervously and how his words became all twisted. Spencer always had so much in his head, but the second you came into the picture, everything vanished— except the thought of you. 

Derek specifically always teased Spencer with his ‘oh so obvious’ crush, stating how he had 'no game' and if he didnt ask you out sooner he was going to do somethng about it. You were an absolute sweetheart and everyone knew you and Spencer would work perfectly. 

You finished collecting your last book and stood up, sighing in relief. You took one last look at Spencer, beofre looking up at him with a glint of mischeif in your eyes. "You should be careful next time Dr. Reid," 

Spencer could feel his pulse in his neck. He opened his mouth and closed it before clearing his throat. "Yeah, I wasnt really—“

"Spence," You called, pulling him out of his thoughts before he could become a stammering mess. "I’m just teasing."

Spencer swallowed and offered you his signature side smile, wihch cuased your own to grow. You looked behind you and gestured towards the other side of the hall. “We should proabably start walking if we want to—“

"It looks really good." Spencer spat out nervously, too quick for you to catch. You tilted your head, ever so slightly and raised your brows. You hummed, not quite sure you had heard the words that left his mouth. 

"Hmm?"

"Your, uh, hair—“ He prodded, pointed to your new haircut. "It looks really good— you look really good,"

Your smile grew and your eyes softened. You probably looked like a child on christmas morning. Heat rushed up to your cheeks as you tucked a piece of hair behind your ear timidly, suddenly scared by the way your pulse had quickened. 

"Thank Spence," Your voice was sweet as hunny and all he wanted to do was for you to continue looking at him the way you were right now. You stopped with a bit of hesitation, before welcoming him to come walk with you towards your conjoined meeting. "Walk with me?"

He nodded silently and walked by your side as you rambled about your weekend. Spencer loved talking about the things he knew, and sharing as many facts and statistics as he could, but when it came to you, all he ever wanted to do was just listen.

i may or may not have a little series in the works🤭

[peachesofteal]

Dead Disco / Chapter Fifteen Dead Disco masterlist

AO3 Warnings: Angst. The storm.

“You’re here.”

“I’m here.” Your heart breaks on it, on two little words. Breaks apart again at him standing in your door. The silence between the two of you is a scream, and though your tears have dried, there’s still an ache stretching infinitely before you. You peek over his shoulder, hoping Johnny is here too. Wanting to fix the mess you just made, but he’s not.

Simon is alone.

He pulls it wide. His face is twisted. His eyes are red. He’s been crying. The realization nearly brings you to your knees. “Can I come in?”

You didn’t clean the kitchen up, and neither did Johnny. He stood there for too long, kissing you over and over on your cheek, your forehead, your mouth and profusely apologizing, tugging his jeans up over his hips. Frozen afterwards, the two of you, fire and fuel once burning in your veins now ice cold, slithering under your skin like a disease.

That’s what you are. Who you are, who you were. An illness. A plague.

A slowly healing thing.

You always thought they made you better.

“I’ll stay, I should-“ 

“He’ll wonder.” You stared at the floor. “And he’ll worry, you know he will. He’ll be scared something happened to you.” 

“Darling, I dinnae want to leave ye right now-“ 

“I’m fine. Go.” 

Simon doesn’t try to touch you. He takes inventory of the mess, the caramel puddle of coffee spilled over the edge of the counter to the floor, the knocked over stagnant water and paintbrushes.

You become starkly aware, too aware of the state you’re in. The state of your apartment. The state of your brain.

You wish Johnny was with him. You want it to feel like before.

You can see his face so perfectly in your mind, the slope of his nose, the plush of his lips. Anxiety twists your stomach, worry about how he’s doing, what he’s doing weighing you down.

Still. Simon is steadfast. He’s the ship in a storm and you’re the sailor, clinging to a mast, praying to god you’ll survive.

“Are you-“

“I’m sorry I was so emotional on the phone.” You rush out, cutting him off. His brows knit together, prodigious sympathy in his eyes, golden brown refracting.

“I’m sorry for calling.”

“I’m… I’m glad you did.” He steps closer, and then away, opting to stand to the side, still taking stock of the kitchen, studying the orange pill bottles on the counter. “New meds?”

“Yeah.” The conversation is stilted, a dam preventing a flood.

“Are they working out?” You shrug.

“The one makes me really forgetful, but it’s not so bad.”

“That’s good.” You’re nodding and can’t stop. There’s a part of you wanting so badly, so desperately, to go to him, to bury your face in his chest and let it all go.

And there’s another part that doesn’t know what to do. Doesn’t know how to reconcile any of this.

“Will you tell me how you’re feeling?”

“Confused. Sad.”

“That’s okay.”

“Is it?”

“Yes, darling. Whatever you’re feeling is okay.” Your stomach rumbles at the exact same time, and his lips quirk to the side. “Are you hungry?”

“A little.”

“Have you eaten today?” You can’t force your mouth to give the answer, the obvious no, so you shake your head. “Do you have groceries?”

“Some.”

“Can I make you something to eat?” You suck in a sharp breath. Can he? Will you let him? Will the two of you revert to these roles, like no time has passed? Have you not made progress, have you not grown? 

You pack the shame of it away, burying it deep. You’ll try to unpack it later, on the couch, in front of the doctor. You’ll talk through every second, pick it apart and try to put it back together again. You’ll rip yourself open, expose your soft spots, the ones that bleed more than any other.

She’ll tell you it’s okay.

She’ll ask you how you feel about the decision.

You’ll say you don’t know, as you always do, and she’ll say that’s okay too. You don’t have to know right now. She’ll tell you there is nothing wrong with the way you feel, just like Simon does.

There’s been intensive therapy, to get you to this place. To drag you across the finish line. Sessions after sessions, four days a week.

It was a bargain. She promised not to have you sent involuntarily, and you promised to be in her office every other day.

Still, she doesn’t know Johnny, doesn’t know Simon. She doesn’t see how they love, how they exist.

You take a deep breath. “Yes.”

You watch him from the couch. Curled over the armrest, your chin on your elbow. His shoulders, chest, flex under his t shirt, opening cabinets, searching for things in an unfamiliar place.

You’ve never felt more loved by him than you do in this moment.

A man willing to push everything away to take care of you, to disregard himself in favor of you, to put himself aside every time he steps through the door to focus on you.

A man who knows what's coming. Who's always been able to see inside you, and yet, still makes you dinner. Still cares for you in the way he knows how. 

All you ever wanted, was to feel loved by them. Separately and together.

Now you feel it more than ever.

You tried to force a circle into a square. 

You think about Johnny again. About how he’s at home, penitent, destroyed. You think about how he must feel, knowing Simon is here, and he’s there. You ache for him. Wish you were settled between them in bed, his body against yours, the steadfast pace of his breathing evening your own out. You want him to hold you. 

You wish he was here.

You ache without your pieces.

But you know it’s not supposed to be this way.

“Darling?” The cadence of your moniker pulls you away from yourself, and you look up.

He’s crouched in front of the couch, nearly eye level with you. “You’re crying.” You tap your face, surprised. You are, the realization abrupt, the onset of them too acute.

“’m sorry.” You choke, and he murmurs softly.

“It’s alright. You’re okay.” His thumb finds your cheek, carefully sweeping them away.

“I’m not.” The truth is agony. You’re not okay. You weren’t okay when you fucked Johnny, and you’re not okay now. You haven’t ever been okay, and it hurts so badly. It stings deep down in your heart, your belly.

Your tears rush out of you, and Simon moves, comes around the side of the couch.

He pulls you into his arms, and you bury your face in his chest.

Hiding. Relying. Letting him carry you through. 

“Simon…” You sob, and he rocks you, arms tight, resolute in their hold.

“Shhh, I know. I know, it’s okay.”

“I d-didn’t mean for this to happen.” You’re talking about Johnny, but you’re talking about everything. The struggle, the agony. Everything.

“I know you didn’t. I don’t want you to worry about that.” The feeling inside you is more than pain, it’s death, it’s excruciating. There’s a piece of you dying, crumbling, turning to ash. You’re trying so hard to hold onto it, to keep it inside, but it comes out with these wretched sobs, the ones that split your ribs open and bleed you dry.

He holds you through it. Holds you tight enough the pressure eventually calms you, and there’s nothing left except the soaked circle on his t shirt and your tired, wet eyes.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper.

“You have nothing to be sorry about.” He takes a deep breath, still clinging. “Let me feed you.”

“Okay.”

He sits next to you at the little table where you usually try to eat alone. Where you drink your coffee, alone. Where you pick at your food, where you swallow a handful of pastel-colored pills with a glass of juice every morning like clockwork. Like a robot.

You manage more than a few bites. Breakfast for dinner, one of your favorites. You know he picked it because you love it, and he wants to make you happy.

It only makes you lachrymose. “I’m sorry about Johnny.”

“It’s not your fault, darling.”

“Don’t be mad at him.”

“Let me worry about that.”

“It wasn’t… he didn’t do anything wrong. I’m the one who put him in that position. I kissed him and-“

“He knew better. I don’t want you to dwell on… that.”

“I love him.” Your voice cracks.

“I know.”

“I love you.”

“I know you do, darling. I know.” You’re going to cry again; you can feel it. The acid starts up behind your eyes, and though you’re not sure you have anything left, they pool along your lower lids. “None of that.” He soothes. “C’mon. stay here, stay with me.” You shake your head.

“I l-love you both, so much. It hurts.” He blinks furiously, and then through your own blurry vision, you see his tears. The ones that slip reluctantly through his lashes, down his cheeks.

“We never wanted to hurt you.”

“I know, and you d-didn’t. It… it hurts Simon. It hurts and I don’t know why.” He tugs you from your chair and into his lap, hauling you up onto his thighs. “P-please-“

“Just… let me- let me hold you, darling. I don’t want- I want to feel you.” He cheek rests on the top of your head, and you cling to him, a child lost, a sailor scared in a storm.

He knows.

You know he knows. You feel it in the rapid pace of his heart, the shudder of his shoulders.

He knows. He knows it better than you do.

And maybe he always has.

“You were right.” After a while, he whispers in your hair. “And so was I, even though I didn’t want to see it. It was never fair.”

“We wanted it… too much.” That much is more than true. You wanted it so desperately, and so did they, you know it. You don’t doubt their love for you, though the scales have always been imbalanced. Imperfect puzzles, trying and failing to click together.

“I’m sorry, I… we, were so selfish.”

“I wanted you to be.”

“It still wasn’t right.”

You sit there for hours, curled up on his lap, listening to him breath, memorizing his heartbeat.

You think of Johnny for the hundredth time. You want him to be here. You want him to hold you too. You close your eyes and try to remember how he feels, your love for him overflowing into a mountain of more and more agony. For both of them. 

“I should go.” Simon finally says, shattering the moment, and you nod.

It’s a death march to the door.

“Will you come by, to see us? I mean… to… talk to us. Together.”

“Yeah, I… I will.” The guillotine waits in the wings, a final chorus cut off by a symphony.

“Tomorrow?”

“Okay.” He leans in, presses his lips to your forehead.

“I love you, darling. We always will.” You nod, but say nothing, cheeks wet again.

He turns away, rolling his shoulders, heading down the hall.

There’s something building in your heart, an explosion, fear compounding.

“Simon! Wait.” He stops. You close the gap, tugging him down until your lips crash together, warm and salt soaked and full of torment, suffering. “I love you.”

This time, he says nothing. Only kisses you again, long and slow, before taking you by the shoulders and intentionally stepping away.

“I know.”

You stand in front of their door for too long.

You wish there was something you could take, something you could do, to release you from this. To build a barrier around your heart so you don’t have to feel it. Any of it.

There’s not, and you know that.

You know you must succumb to the water, dip your head below and hope you come up for air on the other side.

There’s nothing left to do except this.

You lift your fist to knock.

“This is my fault.” Johnny cries, and you squeeze his hand.

“It’s not. It’s… it’s all of us. We did it together.” Simon kisses his temple, rubs his back, and he leans into him, face buried in his shoulder. The guilt eats you alive, knowing that the last time you truly spent with him was when he was inside of you. You wish you talked to him more, made him feel loved, told him how much you cared.

But you were selfish.

And so was he.

“It’s not your fault, sweet boy. I promise.” Simon tries to soothe him, but  Johnny slams a fist into his knee, so hard you wince, and Simon grabs it, fingers firm around his wrist. “Stop. Stop now.” He strokes a hand through his mohawk. You struggle to breathe. 

“I love you so much. That’s… that’s never going to change.” Johnny shakes his head as Simon closes his eyes, nose dipping down into his hair.

“Ye cannae leave us, darling. We need- I need ye. I love ye… p-please.” The three of you are crying, sliced open, surgically diced into cross sections for an autopsy.

The death of a relationship.

The death of three parts to a whole.

“Johnny.” You say his name, over and over, until he pulls away from Simon and tugs you close. You bury your face in the crook of his neck, breathing him in, committing his scent to memory.

Simon wraps his arms around you both.

You feel whole. A puzzle complete. A sunrise after a storm.

And that’s why. 

“I love you.” You kiss the shell of his ear, soaking him with your tears. They’re everywhere, dripping down your face, your neck, your shirt. You can barely keep your breathing steady, despair restricting your lungs. “I’ll always love you, Johnny. Always.”

“Please.” He sobs, shakes, holding onto you so tight. “Dinnae leave me. Please.” Your heart is shredding to pieces. Ribbons of blood and muscle trying to contain too much, unable to cling together. His pleas are enough to make you second guess yourself, to make you nausea enough to nearly throw up.

It’s beginning to become overwhelming, and in the throes of your building panic, you glance wildly at Simon.

He stares back. Nods. Wraps his hands around Johnny’s shoulders and tucks him back into his chest. “No!” Johnny hisses, but Simon holds him steady.

“I’ve got him.” He says, voice broken.

You sit frozen like a deer in headlights.

“I love you.” You cry, and hope they know it’s meant for both of them.

It’s always meant for both of them.

Simon takes one last long look at you and closes his eyes. “I’m proud of you.” He whispers, hoarsely, and the final piece of your heart breaks. “Go.”

Can you? 

Do you have the strength? 

The sun is bright on your face.

It’s warm, and beautiful, the promise of something new, something different. You stand on the sidewalk, devastated but-

Unafraid. Imperfect pieces, slowly stitching together to make you whole, all on your own.

Without Simon. Without Johnny.

Just yourself.

It’s terrifying. Heartbreaking. And it’s only you now.

You, figuring out how to exist in a world too harsh for your heart. You, without the protection and promise of your other pieces, the ones who came home to you every time, the ones who put you back together. You, learning how to take care of yourself, to truly do it, for the first time.

You, who is not broken.

You, who is stepping forward without darling.

You who is just… you.

[rodolfoparras]

Thinking about Mike and the kinks he likes to indulge in 18+

Pairing: top male reader x Mike Schmidt

cw: riding,

Thinking about Mike who loves when you play with his hair, who will lay his head on your lap just to feel your fingers running through the curls at the back of his neck, body relaxing in your embrace, soft hums escaping his lips and goosebumps raising across his body every time your nails scratch his skin.

He feels content almost too content because soon he‘s squirming around on the couch while sporting a boner.

You don’t notice it at first too engulfed in your tv show as you continue to rack your hands through his hair, and each time you do so he feels his cock twitch in attention.

He tries to be subtle about it, pressing his thighs together while you aren’t looking but he’s being so loud, whines and whimpers tumbling past his lips as the spot on his sweats darkens every time he squeezes his legs together.

It doesn’t take much before you catch him red handed, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips while he profusely apologizes for getting a boner, because how embarrassing isn’t it that he’s getting hard while you’re just playing with his hair.

But he doesn’t get to dwell too long in his embarrassment as he feels his cock hard and aching between his legs.

Mike’s eyes are glassy, cheeks flushed and hands immediately grabbing for your thighs.

“Please please,” he croaks out, while tugging at your sweats.

“What do you want pretty?” You say, hands gently running through his hair, before yanking at it slightly when he doesn’t answer your question. “Words Mike”

“Please, please touch me sir” he croaks out while nuzzling his face into your leg and oh how can you deny such a sweet request

It doesn’t take much before he’s straddling your waist stark naked and sinking down on your length with his brown curls tangled in between your fingers

Usually he’d hide his face in your neck, too shy to show how good you’re making him feel but with your hand in his hair he has no choice but to show you the fat tears trickling down his face, cheeks flushed and drool dribbling down his chin as he practically bounces in your lap

The pain from your rough grip only sends jolts of pleasure coursing through his body and before he knows of it he’s tipping over the edge, hole clenching around your length and ropes of cum spurting on both your abdomens.

“So hair pulling huh?” You mutter into his hair as he slumps down into your embrace, your words only earning a slap to your chest.

[antiwhores]

My king ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

King!Bakugou x servant!reader

I’m on break rn but its Bakugou’s birthday so heres this for you guys. I haven’t wrote anything this long in a HOT minute. only ogs remember when I used to write more than just drabbles

Learning not to feel self conscious about every move you made around King Katsuki was like learning to walk again.

You had to be perfect, everyone had to be perfect with the King’s temper. If a plate broke, you’d be shamed and degraded until you were holding back improper tears to avoid more degration, then you’d be fired and kicked to the curb. If you messed up an order, say goodbye to the kingdom cause you’re banished. And if you even showed the slightest disrespect then plan your funeral in the next 20 seconds because you’re dead.

Atleast, that’s what everyone told you when you first started your job as King Katsuki’s personal servant.

So far, you have not been degraded to salty tears when dropping a plate. You get a simple, “Tch, stupid woman.” As you apologize profusely and bow down to the man.

You had not been banished for messing up an order. During a quiet afternoon one week, you were flustered. You had bills to pay, a close friend just died, you needed to restock grocery, and you had gotten 3 hours of sleep from all the crying over your friend. He noticed your puffy eyes and unusually sluggish frame. He spoke nothing about it. But when you gave him peach tea instead of chai he didn’t make too much of a scene. He mearly asked, rudely of course, what was wrong with you; he scoffed at your excuse.

And he definitely didn’t have you hanged when a groan threw itself out of your mouth when he bitched about you being absent yesterday. He only made you get on your knees as he grabbed your face and made you apologize and beg for forgiveness. It sounds harsh but considering his reputation, you were called extremely lucky.

The other staff said that he’d taken a liking to you. They always sent you out to take care of his needs when he was in a pissy mood cause you had a better chance at living than the average servant.

You didn’t speak much unless directly told to. Its how you were trained. He didnt talk much either but he would ask you casual questions sometimes, like you’re anything but an ant in this heirchy.

“Oi.”

You gracefully turned around to face him and bowed down. “Yes, your grace?”

He clicks his tongue at your formality. “Stop it with the your grace and shit. Are you beheld yet?”

You softly shake your head, trying not to show your surprise at the intimate question. “No, your majesty.”

You feel embarrassed telling him your status. Usually girls around here would be married at 17 but here you are still single.

He seems pleased at that, “Why?”

You shrug as if the answer is simple. “I haven’t found someone who I can holeheartedly call my beloved.”

He starts to get nicer to you after that. He makes sure you eat and orders you to tell him (in detail) about your day.

No one is allowed in the King’s room. He says if he wants to clean it, he’ll do so himself. And no one dares to step foot into his den and you are not an exception.

You are still scared when he tells you to run him a bath in his room. You had to conform with him so many times that you invoked him to snapping on you.

His room reked of him. It was intoxicating.

You forced yourself to disregard everything around you in fear that if you looked up from your shoes you wouldn’t be able to control yourself from snooping.

You allowed yourself to look up when you reached his enormous bathroom. Did one person really need a bathroom the size of your house? It wasn’t your place to say so you began to prepare a bath.

Just as you were done you went to head out only to be stopped by the King himself.

“Where ya headed?”

You almost screamed from being startled so badly.

“I’ve prepared your bath, my king. I figured I should head out now.”

You wait for his word to leave but it never comes.

“Stay.” He commands.

“But-“

“Are you arguing with me?”

You definitely were not. You just thought that he didn’t understand that you were done and he didn’t need you anymore. But as he began to strip down in your silence, you realized he understood fully.

You turned a full 180 degrees around to avoid disrespecting him. A lowly servant like you shouldn’t have the privilege of seeing a king indecent. Even if you have grown found of him, you need to respect your place.

You hear the water splash as he gets in.

“Come.”

“What?”

“Get in with me.”

“But sir-“

“Do we need to correct that attitude? Arguing with the King isn’t smart.”

He doesn’t know what he’s asking, you thought as your cheeks grew red. Your body moved on its own as you began to strip down. You couldn’t disobey the king, not that you wanted to. You’ve always had a thing for him. From his biceps to his booming personality.

You suddenly feel subconscious with his eyes on you. He licks his lips, or did he? You have to be dreaming right now.

But you’re not dreaming, his hand dragging you on top of him in the bath isn’t a dream. And its definitely not a dream when your hand try to find something to stable itself and end up on his shoulders.

“You know, I’m quite fond of you.”

He strokes up and down your sides before moving onto your arms. The waters warm but it feels like its boiling against your skin. He smells so good and he feels so… hard?

Hard, against your thigh. You blush a deep red. He looks down with you.

“Like what you see, yeah?”

Fuck, it was big. You expected him to be big, but you hadn’t comprehended how that would feel inside someone.

“Wanna sit on it?”

You didn’t even realize you were now straddling him. You didn’t know if you moved of if he had moved you. All you know is that your here now and its taking everything in you to not grind against him without permission.

Lustful eyes meet lustful eyes. He gives you silent permission with a nod of his head so you began to grind your pussy against his cock in a desperate attempt to get rid of the heat in your belly.

His head is thrown back, “Just like that…”

You grinded until you could find the angle to catch your clit against him. The water was splashing back and forth against the tub. Your pussy clenched against nothing and it drove you crazy.

Just as you were about to cum, he stilled your hips with both hands.

You whined, “My king-“

“It’s Katsuki.”

“I couldn’t possibly call the king by his first name as a commoner.”

“Then it’s a good thing you’re not a commoner anymore, my queen.”

Before you could even begin to comprehend what he was alluding to, he slammed his cock inside you and thrusted into you at a wild pace.

You gripped his shoulders to study yourself, the stretch being painful but quickly residing into pleasure.

“Fuck!” He hissed through his teeth. He just got in and he’s already ready to cum. You felt so good, nothing like anything he’s had before. He was ready to make you queen before hand but now he’s ready to make a heir to the throne.

Your head dove into his shoulders, it was too much and it felt too good. You felt the knot in your stomach tighten. He grabbed you by your hair and shoved you against his lips.

“Wanna cum inside, that okay?”

He was gonna do it even if you said it wasn’t so you didn’t bother responding. You were too focused on meeting his thrusts anyway.

His cock pulsed inside of you, his hands marking your back up with scratched and vice versa.

The coil inside you snapped and you came on his cock with a scream. He followed shortly after you with an uncharacteristic moan.

His ropes of cum filled you up until his body relaxed against you.

Water was everywhere, on the walls and the floor. It would take a lot to clean up but you couldn’t focus on that right now.

“Does this mean you like me?”

“I just said I was making you queen, fuckin’ dumbass.”

[doflamingadonquixote]

Worthy {PT 1/2}

Parings: Lucifer Morningstar x Sinner!Dom!Reader

Warnings: no one in this chapter, just a little bit of swearing and an hurt/comfort situation

Words: don’t know, more than 7000

Summary: After returning to the hotel from a day at work, you find Lucifer sitting alone and in misery. A confrontation ensues that you would never have imagined in your unlife.

A/N: English is not my first language, I apologize for any errors but I also rely heavily on a translator. Criticisms and your opinions are always welcome. I decided to divide this mini ff into TWO parts. The second will be more spicy. Let me know who would like to be mentioned for next part! Enjoy!

You rushed in through the front door, waving your umbrella and shaking off the drops of acid rain that were quickly eating away at your jacket.

It was the fourth this week. Something was going wrong with the weather in the circle of pride.

The room had probably emptied by now given the time. There were only a few little sinners left in the armchair, entertaining themselves with their phones.

Their rooms must surely be near Alastor's radio tower. After several complaints it was discovered that the closer you were to it, the more those little gadgets seemed to have problems or interference.

“Don't be too late. Tomorrow morning Charlie will set up the new program for the week.” You communicated to them, moving behind the chair and letting a hand ruffle the younger sinner's hair.

He muttered something but nothing that was too rude towards you. As you approached the staircase back to your rooms, a white-clad figure at the bar caught your attention.

Lucifer was bent with his elbows on the table, between his fingers a half-full glass of some liquor that he had stolen from Husk's supplies.

With a loud sigh he brought it to his lips but before it could reach them, your fingers blocked the advance of the glass, pushing it down by the top again.

Lucifer turned to look at you quickly but his shoulders visibly relaxed when he acknowledged your presence.

“Whatever answer you are looking for, you won’t find it in that glass, sir.” You warned him and, in the distraction of his gaze on you, you slipped the glass from his hand, brought it to your mouth and emptied the contents down your throat.

The liquid burned faintly, causing you to cough barely. Yes, it had definitely touched Husk's good reserve.

“You've been out a long time today. Any news?” He asked as he watched you set the glass down in the sink, beyond the counter.

“Not much, really. Sinners are still very hesitant.” You shrugged but turned a happy smile on him. “At least they listen now, though. They don't accept, but they listen to what you have to say. Small steps.”

You and Lucifer met after Charlie hired you while she was in a meeting with Camilla. You worked with her in the beginning, identifying potential clients all around the circle.

Charlie probably saw some salesmanship in you that she could also exploit in convincing sinners to redeem themselves.

You were not a longtime sinner. You had recently died so you hadn’t had a chance to take an interest in the royal family.

The first time you saw Lucifer you expected something more threatening, malevolent.

Instead, you had been confronted by a little jumping baked bean who made pancakes in profusion for breakfast.

You had immediately sympathized with his personality. You considered yourself a very mild-mannered fellow so his influence was a healthy touch for your motivation as well.

You had also worked together on some proposals to present to the newcomers though with some difficulty in agreeing among yourselves.

For some strange reason his idea about the duck pool exceeded yours in preference. Seeing the hotel sinners enjoying themselves in the yellow duck pile was hilarious and utterly unbelievable.

Because of that, you had grown very close to the King and respected him very much.

Therefore, seeing him in such a pitiful state as he was in at that very moment threw a sense of unease upon you.

“Shitty day for you too?” You asked, almost as if you were disinterested. If he didn't want to answer, he could have ignored you and not felt forced to necessarily say anything.

However, the soft sound of sobbing reached your ears loud and clear.

You turned quickly but his face was bent away from you on his shoulder, not allowing you to look at him properly.

The only thing you could see was the tremor in his back and how his hands had closed forcibly on his crossed arms, resting on the counter.

Out of the corner of your eye, you watched the two remaining little sinners giggle over something they had seen on their phones, oblivious to what was happening a few feet away from them.

You didn't know what to do. Touching him seemed to be too much, and you weren't sure of your comforting skills at that moment. You felt you did not know him well enough to afford certain words of comfort.

So you did the only thing you thought wise.

Hide him.

Your coat slipped over him with a gentle rustle, covering him totally from head to toe thanks to your stature.

Lucifer turned in wonder at you, his eyes bright and red with unshed tears under the loose hood falling over his face.

You gave him a smile as his cheeks turned a soft rose color.

“You know, if you have any problems you can talk to me, right? I can't assure you a very good therapy session but I think it's good just to talk about it.”

The ex Angel remained motionless for a few seconds, and you read the situation as a choice to prefer silence.

You didn't blame him, in fact you were a little embarrassed that you had the temerity to propose such a thing to him.

You got up from your chair, ready to say good night to him and retreat when one of his black hands twisted around your wrist, preventing you from moving further away.

You blinked a few seconds, confused but returned with your butt to the chair, your body fully toward him.

“Today is eight years since Lilith left.”

You smiled sadly. You had to understand that Lilith was the reason. After all, she alone had the ability to make him unhappy, besides his daughter but she never made him unhappy.

“Oh, that must suck.”

“Yeah.”

You frowned. After eight whole years had the man still not moved on? And Lilith hadn't even deigned to give an explanation or try to communicate with him the whole time? What man waits for his wife for eight years without moving on with his own life? How could she refuse the love of such a pure being?

Fuck, she really doesn't deserve him! If only he were yours…

“Do you really think so?”

Lucifer's voice made you jerk.

“What?” You asked confusedly, forcing your heart to suppress that senseless anger born out of nowhere.

“What you said, that she doesn't deserve me...” his lips quivered and his eyes had reached the size of those of an needy dog.

Shit, had you said that out loud!?

“Um, I think so,” you shook your head, looking away from him. “I'm sorry, I had no authority to say that. It's just...I don't know...you're an exceptional person, Lucifer. You deserve the best.”

You bit your lip. That drink really must have had powerful effects to let you open up so much with a being who could disintegrate you with a snap of his fingers.

“I..…T-Thank you.”

Flabbergasted, you noticed how the king's pale face was slowly turning a scarlet red and stretching to below the collar of his shirt.

He was flattered by your words? Did he not intend to kill you for disrespecting him?

“I only said what I think.” You added at the end, as if to solidify that you had gotten away with it.

You went back to looking in front of you, now unsure of how to continue that conversation, and you noticed how a light complexion had been added to your own cheeks as well.

But it seemed that Lucifer had not finished.

“If I were yours...”

The lump of saliva you were trying to get down stuck in your throat and you began to cough convulsively in surprise.

“D-did you hear that too?!”

What the hell was wrong with you that day? You had never been so brazen and indelicate. But there was something about Lucifer that set off all the right points for you.

You couldn't reason with him.

“Do you mean it? Would you appreciate me if I was?”

His body language had changed. He still looked embarrassed but the way he leaned toward you, the fluttering eyelashes and a little pout on his lips clearly told you that something had changed for the better.

You didn't blame Eva for accepting that damn apple. The man was driving you crazy and you were sure he knew it.

The hood of the vest over his face brushed your forehead, awakening you from the little trance you had entered.

“I would. I would adore you as the king you are and deserve to be.” Your hand reached his neck, preventing him from advancing any further. “But you are not in the right condition, sir. I don't want to take advantage-“

He puts a finger to your lips, forcing you to be silent while, with the other, he gently supports your face.

“Show me.”

[osamucide]

closer

i wanna fuck you like an animal!

NSFW CONTENT - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

wc: 1.6k

cw: switch!atsushi, d/s dynamics, gn+ada!reader, teasing, corruption kink, overstimulation, dry humping, mentions of edging and semi-public sex, dirty talk, name calling both ways (whore, slut, bitch, good boy, pretty, mine), spit, choking, unprotected sex, cum, everything is safe mostly sane and absolutely consensual just filthy and fucking nasty sorry

reid: what was supposed to be a <500 word blurb/concept turned into uh this. whoopsie! but come onnnnnn nnhggghsshnghhh sweet tiger boy i just wanna make him feral. lowercase intended

. . . .ᐟ

he’s so beautiful. he looks like an angel, with his silver hair and wide, pretty eyes. it’s hardly your fault that he caught your attention from the moment dazai dragged him into the office.

and he’s far from naive to the capacity this world has for destruction, dazai tells you. and yet, you watched the way he threw himself at that bomb so selflessly. the way he flustered at the barrage of praise for being so qualified, so compassionate, such a perfect fit for the agency.

you watch atsushi for weeks to come as he blushes at any physical contact or verbal affection from anyone. you watch the way he stumbles into your desk and knocks over a cup of pens. he drops a few of his papers in the process, begins apologizing profusely, and reaches to tidy up your space before worrying about his own things. he’s stuttering as you help. your hand brushes his and he seems to glitch before smiling and saying sorry for that, too. you say it’s okay and bite down on the inside of your cheek; it’s all you can do to stifle the amusement from creeping onto your face. he’s just so cute.

you want to ruin him.

you know that, despite that angelic exterior, he already knows depravity.

but the depravity that he knows - as you come to understand from talking to him, going on assignments with him, helping him acclamate to the office - is violent. neglectful. he’s had hostility misplaced upon him for as long as he can remember. the horror he’s been exposed is what made him so meek and obedient, you deduce, and it breaks your heart a little bit, because you know there's an animal underneath all that.

you want to show him the good - the pleasure - to be found in the depraved.

so it begins with your invitations to meet at the café before and after work. you have sweet conversations; you banter and flirt and talk about life with him and bat your eyes and he gets all blushy and tries to talk back, but he's just too inexperienced. he's never had someone care to get close to him quite like this! and even though he likes it, likes you, he can't deny that you make him nervous.

you make your way into his proximity at work by plopping yourself on his desk to toy with his fingers or kissing his jaw when you pass him in the hallway. he's enthralled - with the sparkle in your eye, your hand brushing his waist, the wink you send him when kunikida berates you both for slacking off - and it barely takes any time at all. you make it all just subtle enough that it leaves him squirming with this unfamiliar ache.

you soon catch a glimpse of a certain ferocity in him; dazai's making you laugh a little too hard one day, and something in atsushi snaps.

he takes care to clock both of you out exactly as your shift ends, neither of you lingering in the usual way that you would, before dragging you along behind him back to the dormitory.

“atsushi? are you alright?”

he doesn't answer, just yanks you inside his apartment. you don't have time to breathe before his lips are on yours, messy and unpracticed.

“i want you to be mine,” he gasps into your mouth, pressing his hips to yours.

he wants you to be his, huh?

you chuckle, more than happy to oblige. you tell him you don't know if he realizes what he's in for, and he says he doesn't care. he wants you.

and it continues with his increasing neediness. he needs to know you still want him, needs to know you still like him, needs to know he’s enough. and the cruelest part is that you work him up - you let him wonder.

you let him wonder until he can’t take it anymore.

you send him coy smiles. you teach him how to use his tongue while he kisses you. you stroke his thigh under the table at meetings, wrap your arms around him just to squeeze his ass, shamelessly plant kisses on his neck in public, and it has him painfully hard when he shouldn’t be. atsushi understands what you’re making him feel - what he doesn’t understand is how deliberately you’re doing it, or where he should go from here.

he’s late one day. he’s never late. he’s a good boy, always fulfilling his duties on time and with a smile, so it’s alarming for the others in the office (save for kunikida, who’s annoyed) that he’s absent without warning.

so you make your way over. his apartment’s unlocked; his coat’s crumpled on the floor beneath the rack next to his untied shoes, almost as if he went to leave but then doubled back for something he forgot. you hear . . . something coming from his bedroom, and you call his name before going to investigate.

and you find him face down in his futon with his hips grinding furiously against the comforter bunched up between his legs. what's more? he’s crooning your name.

and you grin. you’re one step closer to accomplishing what you’ve been wanting for weeks.

“feel good, atsu?”

the yelp he lets out is adorable. he scrambles to flip himself over, cover himself up; you lean against his doorframe, arms crossed, and he pelts you with apologies. he’s sorry! he’s so sorry you’re seeing this! what are you doing here? how’d you get in? why are you looking at him like that? he’s redder than you’ve ever seen him, his chest is heaving, and all you can do is tsk.

skipping out on work to hump his bed at the thought of you? how filthy he is, you tell him. as you approach him you take note of the concerning amounts of cum staining his blankets, smearing across his stomach and chest, dripping down his fingers.

“well,” you say, “don’t stop just ‘cause I’m here.”

he almost cowers under your gaze as the worlds tumble out of his mouth.

“please, please just help me!” he begs you, whining your name. “you make me feel so- so- you're the reason I'm- ugh, I can’t- I need you to t- touch me! please, it hurts so bad . . .”

so you do, disregarding the cast of waiting characters who will undoubtedly see through whatever excuse you come up with when you return to the office with atsushi, flushed and clinging to you, in tow.

and after the first taste, he’s insatiable.

"please, please please please make me cum, please . . . !" "I'm yours! I'm all yours, I'm your good boy . . . !" "want it s' bad, I want it s' bad . . . !"

he wants you on him all the time. everyone's going out for lunch? he'll look at you, begging you to stay at the office with him so you can ride him on the couch. he drags his hand across your desk on his way to the bathroom as his way of saying meet me. ranpo charges someone, anyone, with a snack run since he's too lazy to do it himself, and atsushi's burning holes into you with his gaze, silently pleading for you to offer to take him with you and go so you can find somewhere on the way to suck him off.

and for the most part, he's so good for you. he quiets down when you clamp your hand over his mouth and tell him to shut his whore ass up before someone hears. he accepts your edging and your overstim in stride, thanking you when you let him cum, biting back his complaints when you don't. he takes everything you give him; whether he's your nasty little slut or your good boy he agrees, he worships your body every chance he gets, he laps up the spit you dribble onto his tongue. he's a dream. he's an angel. and he's usually so good.

but when he's bad, he's terrible. and it's just as beautiful.

"this is your fault," atsushi growls into your mouth as he’s fucking his third? fourth? load into you, so overstimulated that there’s tears running down his sweet face but so entranced by the way his dick disappears into you that he can't stop. you dig your nails into his arm and stroke his face with your other hand and giggle through your moans because it is your fault. you made him like this.

he eventually realizes how easily he can overpower you. he realizes he can pull you in by your shirt collar and call you a needy little bitch just as simply as you can him; he's a smart boy, atsushi, and it takes him a minute, but he figures you out. you're choking him? he's doing it back, and he's got a shit-eating smirk on his face as he leans in again to kiss you, hungry and well-taught. he stops twiddling his thumbs and looking at you with the word please on his face and starts sinking his teeth into your neck when he wants, sitting you on his thigh when he wants, spitting in your mouth when he wants. he learns he's allowed to take, too, and this is when you know you've freed the animal from its cage.

"you're mine. you're mine, you're mine, I love you . . . !" "jus' like that, jus' like that, you're takin' me so good . . . !" "we're done when I say we're done, pretty . . . !"

and it repairs that crack in your heart to know that he feels loved and cared for enough to ask for what he wants from you. at the end of the day, it's debatable who has who wrapped around their finger . . . sure, you ruined him first, but he's more than eager to return the favor. <3

[featki]

Busy schedule !

— pairing: 西村力 x reader — contains: angst, readers a lonely clingy loser, mean ki, fluff — now playing: 一子青葉

"She became a victim of my busy schedule though, and I know that it's not fair that don't mean that I don't care."

Riki was always busy. He had a bunch of extracurriculars he did for school on top of dance, so you never really got the chance to see him anymore.

He'd always apologize, saying he knew it sucked never getting any of his attention but in the end, nothing ever changed. He was still busy and you still rode the train home alone every day.

Riding the train by yourself wasn't a new concept, lonely yeah but you got used to it eventually.

People on the train were usually either elders coming home from work or students huddling in groups of themselves, and it sounds depressing but beyond Riki, you didn't really have friends, which was okay. Until Riki joined a bunch of extracurriculars beyond his daily dance practice, which left him no time for you.

And it's bad to think about but the thought eventually got a hold of you and you started wondering if Riki enjoyed not being around you as often. You were clingy so it was understandable wanting some space from you, it still made you upset to think about though.

This thought alone has caused you to distance yourself from Riki subconsciously, which despite how busy he is he noticed because you're still his girlfriend after all.

-

The train was often packed with teenagers on the way home, you'd think you'd bump into someone and make friends for once but not once has it happened. You've begun to lose hope in talking to people.

Sure you could strike up a conversation but that's terrifying so you choose not to, which is probably one of the reasons you don't have any friends. How you started knowing Riki on the other hand was a grace from god.

In middle school, Riki came up to you rather then the other way around and asked to be friend's.

Spacing out on the train, thinking to yourself made you realize just how lonely you were when he was he wasn't around. Considering he's been your only friend since you guys were 12, being 18 in high school now. You've become slightly dependent on him, and it's another thing you've added to the long list of your lonely life.

Long lost in thought you feel a head hit your shoulder, you jump slightly cause it startled you but when you look to your right its a boy. Probably fell asleep, why else would he put his head on a stranger's shoulder.

Your body tensed up a bit, it was kinda hard to not be tense with someone resting on you.

You wanted to wake him and ask him to move but disrupting him wasn't in your best interest so you left him alone. On the plus side his hair smelled really nice.

-

The train came to an abrupt stop which shook the boy awake

Realizing he had fallen asleep on a stranger, he stood up and started apologizing profusely like a scolded child.

You followed in his steps and stood up, letting out shaky reassurance and telling him not to worry about it. It was overwhelming with people around looking at the two of you but eventually, he calmed down and explained himself "I really didn't mean to fall asleep on you like that, let me make it up to you!"

He was enthusiastic and energetic, especially for someone who was just freaking out.

"Oh oh no need! Really it's not a big deal." Still shaky you tried to convince him he was blowing it out of proportion. He wasn't taking no for an answer and he even managed to get your number so he could apologize more properly later.

After that he said goodbye and ran off the train, leaving you dumbfounded. You kind of just spaced out the rest of the way home, the whole situation was so dumb it was kind of funny.

So funny you wanted to tell Riki which you planned to do when you guys called tonight, you guys always called sometime before bed.

It was a point he made. No matter how busy he was and how little time he had for you, he'd always call.

You laid in bed waiting, and waiting, and waiting.

12am and no call. You weren't mad at him, you understood he couldn't always be there but you thought some notice would've been nice, instead of just laying there for hours on your phone.

Time passed and you gave up on waiting for a call. You placed your phone on your nightstand and got in bed.

Your mind started to wander, what was he doing that was so important? All of his activities end before 5 so why couldn't he call you? Was he okay? Was it a family thing? Did you do something?

In the midst of thinking you fell asleep.

-

In English the next day, during break time. It was your 4th period and Riki had yet to even mutter a word to you. As time passed, it was getting more upsetting and even more nerve-wracking.

You scanned over everything that's happened the past few days and you couldn't think of anything you've done.

You looked back at Riki to see him sitting at his desk analyzing his work, but you turned back around when you got a text.

Some random number that you didn't have saved.

"You're in English rn right?" The text creeped you out a bit, so you pressed to know who it was "Oh shit sorry! Just realizing I never gave you my name yesterday! It's Akio from the train. I wanted to come say hi if you were in English :)" Knowing it was him made it sorta less creepy feeling, he was still technically a stranger though.

You hesitated on replying but gave in "Ohh right haha, yeah I'm in English"

He liked the message but didn't actually say anything back.

Eventually, he came swinging in loudly with a booming "HI" as soon as he opened the door. It shocked not only you but everyone.

Riki who was staring at the boy in confusion.

Riki's eyebrows furrowed even more as he saw the boy walk up to you and hug you like you'd known him forever, slightly glaring at the boy. He sit's down in the chair next to you "What class do you have next?" His voice still much too loud for the atmosphere, the girl next to us shushed him, in which he apologized quietly and turned back to you.

"Uh math." You said quietly, shaken up by the boys incredibly friendly demeanor.

The boy started rambling on about how that was his next class too and how it's surprising you guys hadn't become friends sooner, all while you look back at Riki to see him still eyeing the boy down.

Riki got easily jealous, and he was possessive, but this looked more like confusion and annoyance then anything.

While on the other hand luckily for you the boy tended to talk more then he listened which was good as you were still too nervous to talk to him like a normal person.

Once Riki realized you weren't all that invested in what the boy had to say he finally took his eyes off of the boy and returned to his work.

After what felt like forever of Akio rambling and you silently smiling and nodding, it was time for Math.

Besides Math and English, you and the boy didn't have any other classes together, so the rest of the day went as normal, besides the fact that Riki seemed busier than usual and wasn't talking to you.

But the way home from school was different.

On the train ride home, you were walking to sit where you usually do when a familiar voice started to yell for you, you turned around, and it was Akio.

He grabbed your wrist and pulled you to a seat, exclaiming that now you had someone to ride the train with. Before you could get a word in, he continued, once again going on about anything and everything.

He was a bit over the top for you, but you had to admit, he was nice, and the company was nice too.

-

The train came to a stop, and you said your goodbyes, he offered to walk you home, but you declined. You told him you lived a bit from the station, and he left it at that. Getting home you got into some comfy clothes and passed out.

Asleep for about an hour and a half, you were awoken by a text from Riki

All it read was "I'm coming over" Don't get me wrong you were excited he was coming over; this was the first time in a while, but you were still upset with him for not only not calling you but also ignoring you all day. So you just texted back a simple "ok" and started your homework while waiting for him to arrive.

He didn't live very far so it didn't take long, as soon as he got there, he plopped on your bed and gave you a look.

You asked him what it was for, and he stayed silent for a few seconds followed by a contemplating hum, "Who was he? The guy in English that was acting all buddy-buddy with you?" He said it so calmly as if he didn't care if he got an answer.

"Ohh I met him on the train" You turned back to the homework on your desk "He fell asleep on me and asked for my number so he could apologize later!" his brows furrowed and his eyes creased a bit, "Seriously?"

You nodded and he continued "He gave you his number so he could 'apologize later'?" You again nodded at his very sarcastic question.

His tongue played with the inside of his cheek "Has he apologized yet?" He sounded almost annoyed

You chuckled nervously, his gaze was strong and intimidating.

"No, not yet.." He let out a 'psh' sound, he was clearly annoyed but not with you. More so with the situation. "He gave you his number cause he thought you were cute. Not cause he wanted to apologize." His voice was deeper

You didn't believe it so you rebutted "That's not true ki, I'm sure he'll apologize soon!" He continued to look at you, almost like he was trying to analyze what you were thinking. "Block him" He sits up on your bed

"What??"

He repeats himself "Block him"

"Why Riki."

"Are you dumb? He clearly doesn't want to just apologize. Does he know you have a boyfriend?" He started to sound angry, almost a little sad sounding. "How do you know that? You've never met him."

"I've met guys like him and you didn't answer my question, does he know you have a boyfriend? Me? Does he know you have me?"

You opened your mouth but nothing came out for a second, "I don't know? I mean I didn't mention it" Before you can finish, he tsk's and looks away "But the only reason I didn't mention it was cause he didn't ask Riki. I really don't think he's trying to get with me."

He ignored you "What's so good about him anyway?" He was starting to get fed up "He's nice Riki. I mean he made time to see me in English today despite being busy himself." You emphasized the 'made time to see me' part which Riki took as a jab.

You didn't necessarily mean it as one but you were tired of never seeing your boyfriend and so it just kinda came out. "You know I try to make time for you." Instead of sounding annoyed, he sounded genuinely hurt and tired, he looked down a bit as he continued "And I know that you don't really have friends besides me but you shouldn't befriend the first person that talks to you." He gets off your bed and heads to the door, "It's stupid and pathetic." He finishes before he shuts the door, harder than he should have.

His voice was laced with venom, almost like the sadness from before completely desecrated. And it left you dumbfounded too.

You weren't one to cry, you didn't cry about anything.

Not that you couldn't, but you made a point not to. It's pathetic and embarrassing, but despite that, you felt your eyes well up. You wiped them before anything could come out and decided to head to bed early. Couldn't cry if you weren't awake!

Granted it took forever to get to sleep, but you kept replaying what Riki said non-stop. 'Stupid and pathetic' weren't new words to you, but when they came out of Riki's mouth they felt a million times worse.

-

Going to School was dreadful, more than before.

Riki was avoiding you and so you were avoiding him back. You continued to hang out with Akio, it probably wasn't the best idea but you rather hang out with someone Riki doesn't like than be lonely again.

A whole week of this pettiness has gone by, nightly phone calls have stopped, goodnight and good morning texts, walking you to and from school whenever he had the chance, all of it stopped.

You know you shouldn't totally blame Ki, it wasn't completely his fault. You said some mean stuff too, but you couldn't help but be so angry at him despite it all.

Of course, you guys have gotten into arguments, and of course, with those arguments came insults but he'd never said something so cruel to you, something you confided in him he used against you, which hurt the most.

Everything was too much to think about so you dove into your studies, more than you already were. Not only studies but other things too, anything to get your mind off of it. Throwing yourself into things isn't a new concept for you, you did it whenever you got overly anxious. It would cause you to eat less, go outside less, and socialize even less than you usually do. Now the difference between then and now is you'd usually have Riki to make you feel better, but you don't so sitting in your dark room all day will continue.

Riki on the other hand, doesn't know what he's feeling. Though he's noticed you not taking care of yourself properly which is making him feel crazy guilty, he knows it's because of him.

Riki's so mad at you for choosing some other guy but he feels so bad for the things he said.

He didn't mean it, he knew you knew that, at least he hoped.

He just wanted to apologize and make it all better but he couldn't. His pride mixed with not having a lot of time made it hard to talk to you so he just didn't bother. Plus he wanted to truly work out what he was going to say before he attempted to talk to you.

He'd catch your eyes in every class, in the lunchroom, in the auditorium, everywhere. He wanted to see your face, he wanted to see you and hold you but he just couldn't let himself be vulnerable and admit he misses you. He's hoping you'd do that but you were just as 'non-vulnerable' as he was, maybe even more.

Which meant he'd either have to make it up to you or lose you over some random boy you met a few weeks ago. Luckily for you, he's sickly in love with you whether he'd admit it or not so he chose the former.

-

It wasn't spontaneous, Riki thought it over.

He planned when it would happen, how it would happen, where it would happen, and what he thought the outcome would be. He wanted to start it all off by making sure to spend the whole day with you.

So he went to your house before school, he loved walking you to school but he rarely got to do it since he had to be at school so early. But the way you get all giddy when you see him at the door makes him happy so he canceled morning activities to walk you.

Seeing him at the door was a little surprising, especially cause he didn't knock, you opened it before he could and the walk to school was uneventful. Silent, but not awkward.

Riki didn't try to hold your hand. He didn't want to make you upset by acting like nothing was wrong, but when passing by a little shop he grabbed your wrist and pulled you inside.

At the rate you two were going you would've been early to school, and he saw something in the window he knows you've been eyeing so why not.

He didn't say anything as he pulled you through the shop up to where the display was.

A large stand with matching phone charms.

It was a niche interest you had, and you had tons of them at home but the thing about these ones is that they're matching.

Two long chains, decorated with beads that had small charms on the end. One with black beads and a white star on the end, the other with white beads and a black star on the end.

Riki knew you had been looking at them for a while, thinking it was cute considering his favorite color is black and yours is white.

He found matching things cute, he found it even cuter when you'd get a tint of rose on your cheeks and try to hide your smile as you showed him a new piece of matching items you bought for the two of you.

He thought about this as he walked to the register, making his own cheeks turn a slight shade of pink as he looked at you. You weren't looking at him but it didn't go unnoticed.

Walking out of the store, chains in hand, without letting go of your wrist Riki asks for your phone and puts the charm on.

He does the same for his phone and then holds them up together in his hand to show them off.

You tried to act non-cholent but your dumb little smile made its way onto your face and made Riki smile even harder as he handed you your phone back, and you guys continued walking.

You hated your smile. You felt it was too... cheeky. Too wide, and it made your cheeks all big.

But Riki adored it. The way your eyes would light up and close a little every time something made you happy, or how you'd cover your mouth if you felt you were smiling too much, just for him to pull your hand down and hold it in his. He loved your smile, he always looked for it everywhere he was, he especially loved it when it was he who was the one causing it.

He knew he couldn't always be the reason you were smiling but as long as you were happy it didn't matter to him.

He kept on glancing at you just to see you smiling and looking at the phone charm, you saw him doing it but didn't say anything. You thought it was cute how cheesy he acted when he thought no one was looking.

-

The rest of the school day was normal for the most part; the assigned seats of each class were fumbling with Riki's plans to be by your side all day, which he knew would happen.

Tables in your class were set in pairs of two, you were at the front of the class seated with a girl you barely knew and Riki was a few seats behind.

As break time started, Riki used his height to his advantage and threw a piece of paper above the guy in front of him and it landed perfectly on your desk. You looked back to see who it was, despite already knowing. You gave him a small smile which made him melt, and as you opened it you saw two stick figures holding hands in a flower field.

It was cheesy, yeah but it was cute. Cuter coming from Riki as he wasn't one for cutesy things.

He would write cute little notes and letters to stick in your locker but that was rare, so this act made you blush so bad you had to hide your face slightly.

You went to draw a cute photo back but before you could even get your pen out Akio spotted you and caught your attention.

Riki tried to ignore it, he didn't like the guy yeah but he also knew he was your first friend besides himself so he wanted to attempt to become friends with him for your sake.

Looking at Akio you saw Riki come up behind him. They had never stood side by side so you never realized how much taller Riki was in comparison and it shocked Akio too as he let out a child-like yelp when he turned around and saw Riki behind him.

You could tell Akio put his guard up a little.

-

During Riki and your petty silent treatment towards each other, you talked to Akio about how you were dating Riki and that you still wanted to be his friend but there needed to be a bit of distance.

He took it really well which was lucky for you as you had a hard time confronting people.

-

Akio backed up a little from Riki who was giving him a slightly annoyed-confused look, and bumped into your desk.

He wasn't scared of Riki per se, but Riki was intimidating. Tall, broad, cold stare, etc.

But in the moment of silence, Riki begrudgingly introduced himself.

Akio stood up a bit and introduced himself back, voice kinda shaky which made Riki chuckle. Akio, who has proved himself to make friends easily, quickly got comfortable with Riki and started talking about anything and everything.

As the conversation went on, Riki took the seat next to you as the girl had left a bit ago.

Riki grabbed your hand under the table, another thing he didn't often do as PDA wasn't something he enjoyed.

Eventually, the break was over, and it was time for the next class.

Akio said his goodbyes and ran off, Riki on the other hand wanted to walk you to your next class.

Walking to class, Riki had yet to let go of your hand, rubbing his thumb back and forth here and there.

And luckily the class was on the other side of the building which left you guys some time to talk, or more specifically some time for him to apologize.

He looked over at you almost nervously and squeezed your hand the tiniest bit before starting.

"I didn't mean it." He wasn't the greatest at starting apologies or apologizing in general, and although you were pretty sure you knew what he was talking about, you still asked. "Didn't mean what?"

He took a sharp breath in "When I said you were stupid and pathetic, just overall being a jerk..." he paused and looked at you before continuing.

"But that's not even all, I haven't been making any time for you, I was petty and ignored you, I got overly jealous and possessive, and I have just been a huge asshole." You were so focused on him apologizing that you hadn't even realized you guys weren't in the school building anymore, you were outside behind the school, in the small garden the school had created not too long ago.

"What are we doing out here?" You looked at him with confusion "I wanted to talk with you more privately."

"We're gonna get in trouble for skipping class, Ki."

"Don't worry about it, okay? I'll take all the blame." You looked at him, debating if you should stay out here or convince him to talk later but his eyes were almost pleading for you to stay out there, and so you listened. "Fine," you said with a slight smile.

He took a second to collect his thoughts and how he was going to go about this but eventually, he got it and started.

"I'm sorry I've left you alone so long. And I'm truly so sorry that I never made time for you, a busy schedule isn't an excuse to be distant, and I need to learn that."

"Rik-" You tried to cut him off and say it wasn't his fault but he didn't let you. "Wait just, wait okay." You shut up

"I care about you so much, you're truly the only one for me, and you mean the world to me. What I said during our fight was so fucked up, and I need you to know I didn't mean any of it. I want to be around you all the time, but I know I can't, and I'm glad you found someone you can be with when I'm not around.

I want you to know that I want to make all of this up to you. All the lost time, the phone calls I missed, the dates, just hanging out together, I want to make up for all of it. And I will, I promise.

I love you. A lot, and I'm gonna prove it this time. I'm going to be the best boyfriend you can ask for and I'm going to be your best friend again. Okay? I'm going to spend as much time as I possibly can with you. I love you so much. You don't have to forgive me now but I-"

"Riki." You successfully cut him off this time as he was starting to run out of breath and his cheeks were all pink.

He looks at you like a scolded puppy, catching his breath a little, Pure word vomit he thought.

"I love you too, so much. And I promise I'm not mad. It hurt never seeing you, yeah, and we definitely have distanced, ourselves as both a couple and friend but it's not your fault. You're busy and I understand okay?" He gave you an apologetic small smile before bringing you into a hug

It was warm and loving, just as all of Riki's hugs were.

He put his head into the crook of your neck, "I missed this so much" He mumbled, squeezing his arms around you tighter. "I'll do better. I promise." You smiled and softly caressed his hair. "I love you Ki."

"I love you too baby. So much."

-

Later throughout the day Riki walked you to every class, smiled at you whenever your eyes met, and was friendly with Akio whenever he came around.

After school, he came to your house and you guys just laid with each other. Something you hadn't done in ages, and although you knew he wouldn't be able to do this every day, you were just happy he was trying to make more time for you, and he was just happy to have his girlfriend back.

@ featki

Note: Sorry if the ending is bad or rushed, iv been working on this for like 2-3 weeks now and just wanted it out. But this is definitely my longest fic and I hope u guys like it :)) also I think I made Akio seem like a bigger character than he actually was... srry

[psychedelic-ink]

ㅤㅤㅤ✦ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐕𝐑𝐄

ㅤㅤmarcus pike x art historian!reader

genre: mutual pining, friends to lovers, forced proximity, smut, minors dni,

word count: 6k

summary: when a famous art collector is murdered, circumstances lead you to be temporary roommates with Marcus Pike.

warnings: oral sex (marcus receiving), marcus getting spoiled, some very mild angst, idiots in love

a/n: this work was commissioned by the lovely @sevillagrenada! thank you so much for your support and thank you so much for this delicious idea, I had a blast! ❤️‍🔥

** dividers made my the talented @saradika-graphics 💜💜💜

Another day, another handsome detective at your doorstep.

It’s been a few months since you and Marcus first got acquainted. He had visited you during one of your busiest hours, asking you for information on a recently stolen painting while you were desperately trying to sort out a curated disaster by one of the interns. It didn’t end well. You ended up shouting at him to leave you alone and even though you regretted your choice in showing how distressed you were, it was what it was. What surprised you later, however, was finding him in the early morning hours with two coffees and blueberry muffins. He apologized profusely and asked for a do-over. Something that you were more than eager to oblige. 

And the rest, what most art historians like you would say, was history. 

Now he visits you almost every morning if he can. Thanks to his charm, you were now considered the number one go-to person of the FBI when it came to art theft. A title you didn’t mind having. 

“A bit early even for you, don’t you think?” you say, handing him the folders you’d been carrying. You smile as he lets out an exaggerated “oomph” and go to open the door. “Don’t be a baby, detective.” 

“I just wanted to see you, what’s the harm in that,” he answers, following you inside. “I have the day off tomorrow so I won’t be visiting.” 

“How thoughtful of you.” 

“Good to see that someone appreciates it.” 

He takes a seat as you head for the coffee machine. You’d got it a month ago, saving Marcus the trouble of waiting in line every morning before work. You appreciate having this as an excuse for him to stop by every morning. Luckily, the museum was on his way to work, meaning he was more than happy to visit you. Sometimes it’s hard to forget that this relationship between you two is meant to be nothing other than friendship, a platonic thing. But every day you find your heart swelling more and more at the sight of him. It’s been too long since you felt close to someone. It’s been even longer since you ached for a person you know you shouldn’t ache for. 

“Are you working on something with Remedios Valo?” When you turn you see him hunched over your desk, his eye meet yours, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. “Sorry, all these books were just sprawled here. I couldn’t help but look.” 

The coffee machine comes to life, the aroma mixing in with the scent of books. 

“That’s alright,” you answer, lips feeling numb. “And yeah, Olivier is adding one of her works to his collection so he wanted me to take a look.” 

“Which one is he buying?” 

You know he absolutely despises the idea of art being bought, hidden from the rest of the world to be a decoration. You hear it in the drop of his voice.  

“Les Feuilles Mortes.” His gaze falls back to the table. “Dead leaves. The one with the woman with orange hair and green dress.” 

He hums when he finally sees it on the page, “It’s a nice one.” 

“It is. It’s one of my favorites.” 

You bring the two cups of steaming coffee. His eyes find yours as you place them down, taking a seat. “You must be excited then,” he states. “To be seeing it in person.” 

“I’m just happy it’s going to someone I know will take care of it.” 

“I did meet him once. Seemed like a decent enough guy.” 

A soft chuckle escapes your lips, “You really hate art collectors don’t you?” 

“With a passion,” a soft smile touches his lips. “But I’ll make an exception for you.” 

You shake your head, smiling into your cup as you bring the steaming liquid to your lips. He’s always like this. Making sure just how much you matter, making you feel cherished, it’s a contrast to how you feel most of the time. Your eyes fall on the painting printed onto the glossy paper. Everyone interprets art differently. In this particular piece, you see loneliness but also a peaceful serenity. The shadow bowing to the woman, them being connected with a piece of blue yarn that she’s holding. The fact that it’s blue and not read also piques your interest. It makes you think it’s not something that is forced, it’s not the fates that brought them together but something else. Something more intimate and free. 

“So, when are you seeing this stunning artwork in person?” 

“Tonight.” 

Marcus already knows that today is going to be a long day. 

He knew it as soon as he entered his office, all fellow agents gathered in one place, murmuring. They parted like the Red Sea when he came through. That’s when the captain told him that extinguished art collector Olivier Balmaceda was found dead. Murdered. 

All he could think of was you. How excited you were to see him, and the painting, tonight. How Olivier was your friend and what would this mean for the investigation? Everyone here knew you, adored you. You being close to the murder victim certainly wasn’t good. He didn’t want you to be involved in any way, not even as a consultant. 

He steps out of the unmarked FBI sedan, his leather shoes echoing against the pavement as he approaches the crime scene. His partner, Tim, follows suit, both agents taking in the scene that awaits them.

The art collector's mansion looms before them, an opulent testament to a life steeped in appreciation for creativity. The air carries a faint scent of antique wood and the unmistakable aura of the art world. As they enter the expansive gallery, it becomes clear that Olivier Balmaceda's passion for art extends far beyond mere aesthetics.

The crime scene, bathed in the soft glow of gallery lights, is surreal. Olivier lies in the heart of his sanctuary, surrounded by the very beauty that defined his existence. The juxtaposition of life and death against the backdrop of artistic brilliance is haunting.

Tim glances at Marcus, a silent acknowledgment of the gravity of the situation. Together, they navigate the intricate dance of art and tragedy. The paintings, sculptures, and tapestries bear witness to the final act of a man whose life was intricately interwoven with the world he cherished.

As Marcus approaches Olivier's lifeless form, he can't help but feel the weight of the art that envelops them.

The art collector's mansion is cloaked in an air of somber anticipation as Marcus's focused gaze is drawn back to Olivier's lifeless form, nestled among the artworks that had once been a source of joy. The forensic team, adorned in pristine white suits, moves with meticulous precision, weaving through the crime scene like careful curators preserving a delicate masterpiece.

"Bullet entry at the back of the head. Looks like a single gunshot," Marcus hears one of them say, his voice a measured cadence amid the artistic silence.

Marcus nods, absorbing the gravity of the information. The team proceeds, each member contributing to the careful orchestration of documentation. His path takes him to the abstract painting, now surrounded by the scrutinizing eyes of forensic experts.

"We're scanning for any hidden messages or anomalies. This painting could hold clues.”

"Keep me posted," Marcus replies.

His attention turns to the delicate sculpture, now cocooned in an evidence bag. Tim approaches, his words a whisper against the backdrop of the gallery.

"Looks like they're treating the whole gallery as a crime scene. Anything stand out to you?" Tim inquires, his voice a muted harmony in the investigative symphony.

"Not yet. We need to dig deeper, find the connections between Olivier and whoever did this," Marcus responds, his words a subtle melody of determination.

The investigation shifts towards Olivier's desk, adorned with sketches and notes – a tableau of potential motives. They meticulously examines the papers, unveiling a narrative hidden within the inked strokes.

"Possible motive here. Let's see if Olivier was working on something that could've angered someone," suggests the expert, their words punctuating the air with a promise of revelation.

Acknowledging their findings, Marcus's thoughts churn with possibilities. Just as the investigation prepares to move to another sector of the mansion, his discerning eyes catch sight of a sketchbook nestled on a nearby shelf. A flicker of curiosity sparks within him, prompting the donning of gloves.

"Hold on a moment," Marcus interjects, a pause that reverberates through the dance of forensic activity.

The team halts, their collective gaze directed towards Marcus as he delicately retrieves the sketchbook. Its presence is unassuming, a silent witness to the unfolding drama. As Marcus flips through its pages, the sketches reveal a familiar artistic style, each stroke a brush with recognition.

"Wait... these look like—" Marcus begins, his words a murmur to the sketches that come to life beneath his fingertips.

Tim glances over, an inkling of recognition in his eyes.

"Isn't that—"

"Yeah. It's hers," Marcus confirms, closing the notebook.

So much for not getting you involved.

“Captain, you can’t be serious.” 

Your eyes are drawn to Marcus, his voice holding the tone of nothing other but disbelief. Your eyes turn to the floor. Olivier is dead. Murdered. And the only proper evidence to connect the dots of what happened is your sketchbook. The sketchbook you could’ve sworn you left in your office. The sketchbook that you only kept to yourself other than Marcus and a couple of more trustworthy people. One of them being Olivier.

You close your eyes. It’s exhausting to breathe. You focus on how your nostrils flare and let it all out through a small gap between your lips. Marcus inches closer, hand firm against the small of your back. 

“I’m dead serious, Agent Pike,” Captain Lana answers, her voice calm yet cold as ice. “Until this entire case is solved, she’s on house arrest and under your care.” 

“Just because we found her sketchbook does not mean she’s a suspect—” 

“Agent Pike,” her voice cuts through the tension in the room. A sharp shudder crawls up your spine, your skin prickling with attention as you open your eyes. Despite her tone, she doesn’t look mad. “You will do what is best for our consultant. As of right now, she is linked to the case of one of the biggest art collectors for reasons we do not know. The best thing we can do is keep an eye on her and protect her.” 

His mouth slams shut, his jaw clenched. His hand deserts your back and in that moment, all you can feel is guilt. Guilt of him being forced to do something he clearly doesn’t want to do. 

To share his home. 

“I understand,” he answers curtly, turning on his heel. “Let’s go get your things.” 

It takes you a moment to realize he’s talking to you, shooting Captain Lana a glance, you follow him out of the office. 

Marcus hasn’t said a single word during the entire drive. Even when you finally parked, he just took your bags and led you up the stairs to his apartment. Your heart felt as if it was shattering into a million tiny pieces. The poor organ was already weighted down by your friend's death, and now one of the closest people to you couldn’t even look at you. 

He drops your bags to the floor and you slowly shut the door. You don’t even have it in you to look around, not that it would matter, you’ve already been here before. You doubt anything changed. 

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out before he can say anything else. “God, Marcus, I’m so sorry.” 

“For what?” 

His hands are on you in an instant, lifting your downturned gaze. You blink away the tears, breath catching in your throat as you meet his eyes. It’s so easy to get lost in them. You could live an eternity there. “For . . for having to stay here. I know it’s inconvenient.” 

“Oh, sweetheart no, no. You could never be an inconvenience. I’m. . . I’m sorry I made you feel like that. I should’ve checked in on you. None of this is your fault understand. None of it,” his thumbs draw slow circles around your cheeks, the knot in your throat growing by the second. “And for all it’s worth, I’m happy that you’re here. I would be worried sick knowing that you’re alone.” 

Suddenly you’re being pulled into his chest, your senses completely enveloped by his scent. He gingerly cups your head from behind, holding you there, allowing you to disappear from the world for a while. 

The first tear escapes unexpectedly. It’s immediately absorbed into his shirt and the rest follows. He doesn’t try to hush you, doesn’t try to get you to stop. He allows you to break down completely. You cry and cry, until there’s nothing left anymore. Only then does he pull back, lifting your gaze to him once more. 

“Feeling better?” 

“Y-Yeah. Thank you, Marcus.” 

He shakes his head, “I’m not doing anything you should be thankful for. This…this is what friends do.” 

That’s right. Friends. 

Your eyes sting when you blink, a forced smile tugging at your lips, “Yeah, friends.” 

You’re almost certain that you’re imagining it, but you swear the crease between his brows deepens with your answer. 

The soft glow of the TV screen bathes the room as Marcus settles onto the couch beside you. “Really? That’s what you want to watch?” 

Marcus raises a brow as he looks down at you. You’re wrapped in a blanket, looking as if the two of you have been living together for years. He loves how you’re already comfortable with the living situation. He wished he could have this in better circumstances without an ongoing murder investigation, but he’ll take what he gets. 

“I haven’t started the new season yet, it’ll be fun.” 

“It’s a murder mystery. Are you sure?” 

You snort, “I know the plot of Only Murders In The Building, Marcus. No need to remind me.” 

As the first episode begins, the room is filled with the intriguing soundtrack of the show. Marcus watches the characters unfold on the screen, but his attention keeps drifting back to you. The play of emotions on your face, the way you get caught up in the plot – it's more captivating to him than any murder mystery.

Gradually, you lean into him, seeking comfort in the shared moment. The warmth of your presence seeps into Marcus's consciousness, and he finds himself entranced by the way you become absorbed in the show. Unconsciously, his arm drapes around your shoulder, the gesture protective yet tender.

In the semi-darkness of the room, Marcus grapples with his own emotions. The line between friend and something more blurs as he navigates the uncharted territory of his feelings. As you snuggle closer, he can feel the gentle rhythm of your breath, the subtle rise and fall of your chest.

A flicker of uncertainty crosses Marcus's mind. Does this closeness mean the same to you as it does to him? He wonders if you sense the subtle shift in the dynamics between you. The arm around your shoulder, a silent invitation, speaks volumes, but Marcus Pike remains in that delicate space between uncertainty and the unspoken desire for something more. The murder mystery on the screen becomes a mere backdrop to the complex enigma of emotions unfolding between two souls entangled in the intricacies of life and love.

Marcus's heart races as he lets his hand linger on your waist. He can feel the warmth radiating through the fabric of your shirt, and he wonders if you can feel the heat of his touch as well.

He watches your face, searching for any sign of discomfort or hesitation, but all he sees is the same intensity and focus on the TV. It both thrills and confuses him – is it possible that you can be so oblivious to the way he feels?

But as he watches you, he notices the faint hitch in your breath when his hand moves slightly, as if you're aware of his touch but trying to hide it. It only fuels the growing attraction between them, and Marcus can feel himself getting more and more drawn in.

His mind is filled with images of how he wants to touch you, and he can barely contain the urge to lean in and brush his lips against your neck. He wants to feel your skin against his, to explore every inch of your body.

The tension in the room becomes palpable, and Marcus can feel his heart racing. He looks over at you, and for a moment, he thinks he sees a flicker of desire in your eyes. But just as quickly, it disappears, and you go back to watching the movie without a second glance.

His hand moves even closer to yours, brushing against your fingers lightly. He can feel the heat emanating from your body, and he knows that you're just as affected by the electric chemistry between them.

His mind is clouded with desire, and all he can think about is kissing you, touching you. But he knows he needs to be patient. He can’t just make a move and potentially ruin the friendship you have.

But as the episode goes on, Marcus can barely pay attention anymore. All he can focus on is you, and the way your body moves slightly with each scene. He can feel himself getting harder with each passing moment, and he knows he needs to do something to release the tension.

Without thinking, his hand moves to your thigh, tracing small circles on your skin. He can see your breath hitch and your eyes flutter closed for a split second before you regain your composure.

He leans in closer to you, his lips just inches away from your ear. "Is this okay?" he whispers.

Marcus relaxes when you nod, eyes still glued to the screen. He knows you want to turn to him, to witness his feelings lingering in his eyes but he also knows that you can’t for the same reason why he can’t tell you how he feels. Fear. Fear of rejection. Of loss of a friendship.

So, his hand on your thigh is as far as he’ll go. Soothing you with the simplest of touches. 

The credits roll and the episode ends, Marcus can't help but feel a lingering sense of longing. He knows he needs to push these feelings aside and focus on the case, but he also can't deny the strong connection he feels with you.

As you stand up to turn off the TV, Marcus suddenly reaches out and takes your hand in his, surprising both of you. The air between them is heavy with unspoken words and tension, but they both know this isn’t the time or the place.

For now, they'll focus on solving the murder and catching the killer. But Marcus can't shake the feeling that this shared moment was the beginning of something more – something that could change everything.

It’s been almost two weeks now since you moved in with Marcus. And other than Olivier’s murder, things have been. . . peaceful. He’s been doing everything for you. You’ve never been taken care of to this extent before. It made you feel bad in a way, as if you were a burden to him and now he felt inclined to take care of you just because of the circumstances. 

However, you couldn’t ignore the tension either, the chemistry. Almost every night you thought of when the two of you watched TV. How close the two of you were. You often find yourself thinking about how differently that night could’ve ended. Only if you were brave enough, then maybe the friendship could’ve escalated into something more. 

While heating leftovers for the both of you from last night, the door clicks open. You expect to see his smile, the same question on his lips asking how your day was—but all you can see in his eyes is exhaustion. He forces a smile when he sees you, then silently heads to his room. Your lungs cave in on itself. Your body buzzing with worry, you look down at the barely heated leftovers. He deserves something more. Something fresh. 

So, as you quickly head down the hall to check on him, you order his favorites. You come to a halt at the door, heart beating in your throat, you knock. 

“I’ll be right there,” he says, almost apologetically, which makes you feel even worse. 

“I just wanted to check if you’re alright. Can I. . . Can I come in?” 

You’re about to head back to the living room when the door slowly opens. His tie hangs loosely around his neck, the first three buttons of his shirt wide open, exposing skin. You barely manage to tear your gaze away. He looks vulnerable, defeated. 

“I’m okay,” he clears his throat. “I promise.” 

You ignore what he says and take a step forward, forcing the both of you inside the bedroom. It smells of cinnamon. “I ordered us some food from that place you like. We have some time to relax.” 

“Relax?” 

You let out the breath you’ve been holding and trap his face between your hands. You want to make him feel good. You want to pamper him. At least this one time, you want to do something for him instead. You know what his answer is going to be if you ask him about his day—he’ll brush you off, because it’s the case you’re involved in. The murder of your friend. 

“Let me make you feel good, Marcus.” 

His eyes widen, lashes fluttering, his lips part, “You don’t have to do that.” 

“I know I don’t have to but I want to.” You quickly add when you see the hesitation growing in his eyes. “Please.” 

You notice the hollow in his cheek, the way his jaw moves as he chews on the inside. Your heart beats wildly in your chest. After what feels like hours, his head jerks in a small nod, “Okay.” 

Marcus gently falls onto the bed and you drop to your knees, taking a place between his spread legs. You can feel his eyes on you. His gaze intense as you fumble with his belt. You tug down his pants along with his underwear, his hips slightly lifting to make it easier for you. His cock is still soft. It makes a certain type of hunger grow inside you. Placing both hands on his thighs, you dip down, taking him into his mouth. He sharply inhales, cock twitching over your tongue. It doesn’t take him long to grow in your mouth, and suddenly swallowing him down proves to be harder than you thought. 

Your nostrils flare as you attempt to swallow him down, your nose brushing against the soft curls. His hand gently cradles the back of your head, and when you look up you see his head falling back, his brows furrowed as he breathes heavily through his nose. 

Parting away, you suck the base of his cock, your tongue swirling. His hips jerk and a moan rips from his throat. “That—that feels good,” he swallows. 

“You like it slow?” you say, lips moving against sensitive skin. “Tell me how you like it. Show me.” 

“You’re doing great sweetheart, just do it how it’s best for you,” he lets out a breathy chuckle. “I’m not picky.” 

Brows knitting together, you pull away and fix him a half-hearted glare. You wrap your fingers around and begin to stroke him, witnessing the flex of his thighs. “I want to do it how you like it,” you state. “Show me or I’ll stop.” 

Your lips curl as you hear him whine. It’s such a beautiful sound. 

“Fine.” 

He drags you back down to his cock, your hand falling away. You open your mouth to take him once more, thinking that he wants to fuck your mouth, but instead, he presses your lips to the side of his cock. You feel the heat of him, the bulging of his veins. 

“Wrap your lips,” he rasps and when you do, he starts to move your head up and down. 

You let out a muffled moan, the vibrations sending shivers down Marcus’ spine. His movements are slow, almost as if he’s fucking himself deep into you—almost as if he’s been thinking about this for months. Your head bobs up and down, your lips pursed around him tightly. You hear him grunt above you, and you can tell that he’s struggling to keep himself in control. 

“Put your hands back on my thighs,” Marcus commands, and you do so without hesitation. “I want to feel the bite of your nails.” His thighs are shaking beneath your touch, and you can feel the coiled tension inside him, just waiting to snap. You do as he asks, digging your nails slightly into the flesh. Another whimper falls for him, a sounds desperate and needy at the same time. He pulls up and finally slips himself into your warm mouth, your eyes water as he pushes you down, taking him whole. 

“You’re gonna make me come,” Marcus grunts, his voice punctuated by the wet sounds of your mouth on his cock. 

You keep up the pace, eager to please him. You can feel his cock growing harder and harder inside your mouth, and you can tell that he’s close. You swirl your tongue around him, pressing your lips even tighter around him. 

“Fuck,” Marcus mutters, his hand gripping your hair tightly. “I’m gonna—” 

Before he can finish his sentence, he releases into your mouth with a deep groan, his hips bucking up into your face. You eagerly take him in, swallowing around him as he spills, hot come trailing down your throat. He lets out a heavy sigh, his body going limp as he comes down from his orgasm. 

You sit back on your heels, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. Marcus looks at you with admiration and slight embarrassment, his cheeks peppered with a faint shade of red. 

“Sorry, that was quick,” he murmurs, tugging you up and pulling you to his lap. “Now it’s your turn.” 

He leans towards your lips but you stop him by pressing two fingers, they’re soft. “We can think about me later,” you say, despite the inside of your panties being an absolute wet mess. “I just wanted to make you feel good.” 

“I want to make you feel good too,” he objects, nipping at your fingers. “Don’t you. . . I thought you wanted me.” 

The guilt in his eyes is back and your hand drops away from his lips. He’s holding you tight as if you might disappear.  

“I do,” you answer tentatively. “But I don’t want you to jump into this thinking you have to. I don't want you to do anything you might regret.” 

“Regret?” he shakes his head. “What does that even mean? I’m not jumping into anything. I’m not confused if that’s what you’re worried about,” his arms around you tighten, and with that, you know you’ve said the wrong thing. “You just sucked my cock—are you telling me that was out of pity? Gratitude?” 

You cut him off, “N–No. . .” 

“Then what was it?” his voice drops dangerously low, eyes flashing with a mixture of anger and hurt. “I’m one hundred percent here. It has nothing to do with the case. And for you to do something just because you felt bad for me. . . I thought we were finally getting somewhere after all of this.” 

“Marcus—”

“I think I want to be alone right now,” he turns his head away from you but doesn’t do anything to push you off of him. Your apology dies in your throat, your mouth suddenly dry. You slowly move away, the taste of his come still in your mouth as you contemplate what to do. What to say. 

But whatever you were planning evaporates with the ring of the doorbell.  

You’re sitting on the couch when Marcus comes home and sits on the armchair right across from you. You’re eyes slowly shift from your phone to meet his gaze, he continues to stare down, his thumbs thrumming over his thighs. 

It’s been an awkward couple of days after the argument you two had. Neither of you were brave enough to broach the subject, However, that didn’t mean what happened didn’t haunt you in the dead of night, both in a bad and a good way. 

“It’s done.” 

His words send a chill down your spine, your muscles tightening, “What’s done?” 

“The case. We found who murdered Olivier. . . and how your notebook got there.” Marcus takes a deep breath, his eyes finally meeting yours as he begins to unravel the mystery that has been hanging over your heads like a storm cloud.

"Olivier's murder... it was someone close to him. Both rival and friend," Marcus starts, his voice heavy with the weight of the revelation. "Turns out, his friend had been eyeing the same collection for years. When Olivier outbid him for that prized painting, it pushed him over the edge."

You feel a knot form in your stomach, a mixture of shock and sorrow swirling within you. Olivier, with his vibrant personality and passion for art, didn't deserve such a fate.

"And my notebook...?" you prompt, needing to understand how your own belongings ended up tangled in this tragedy.

Marcus sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Olivier... he wanted to show your sketches to one of his friends. He thought you had real talent and he was planning on gifting you that painting."

Your heart sinks at the realization. Olivier, you’re going to miss him. Marcus wraps his arms around you, offering comfort and support as the weight of the emotions you've been suppressing finally spills over. You lean into him, the warmth of his embrace a soothing balm for the wounds of the past few days. His touch is both reassuring and grounding, reminding you that you're not alone in this tumultuous journey.

"I'm here," he murmurs softly, his fingers gently tracing comforting patterns on your back. "It’s over now. You can return to your life and begin to heal."

“Heal?” you blin at him, lips parting. “Return to my life? What does that even mean? We can’t go back to normal Marcus. Not after everything. . . I—” You swallow, the knot thick in your throat. “I care about you, Marcus. I care about you deeply and I just want you to know that. I don’t want you to think it was a one-time thing. Ot that I did it because of the circumstances. I did it because I wanted to. And I wanted to long before any of this happened.” 

As your heartfelt confession hangs in the air, Marcus's eyes soften, his expression reflecting a mixture of relief and affection. Without hesitation, he leans in, closing the gap between you, his lips meeting yours in a tender kiss. It's a moment of shared vulnerability, a silent exchange of emotions that speaks volumes more than words ever could.

The warmth of his touch ignites a spark within you, a reassurance that despite the challenges you've faced, your connection remains unbroken. In this intimate embrace, you find solace and hope for the future, knowing that whatever trials may come, you'll face them together.

As the kiss deepens, the weight of the past few days begins to lift, replaced by a sense of renewal and possibility.

Marcus's hands move to your waist, pulling you onto his lap as he deepens the kiss. You feel his body pressing against yours, igniting a fire within you. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, pulling him closer as your fingers tangle in his hair.

His lips move fervently against yours, conveying the unspoken emotions that have been building between you for weeks. You can feel his heart beating against your chest and it's a comforting reminder that you're not alone in this moment.

He breaks the kiss, his lips trailing down your neck, leaving a tingle in their wake. You let out a soft gasp, arching your neck to give him better access. His hands roam over your body, his touch setting every nerve alight. “I’ve been wanting to do this for so long.”

Your fingers move to his shirt, desperate to rid him of the barriers separating your skin.  His lips trail down your neck again, moving to your shoulder, his hands roaming freely over your body. You let out a soft moan, arching your back as his hands reach your waist, pulling your shirt off. The cool air hits your skin but it's nothing compared to the heat radiating between you two.

Marcus and you remove each other's clothes. Your hands roam hungrily over his bare chest, feeling the muscles ripple beneath your touch. He moans softly, a sound that sends a shiver down your spine.

His hands move to your back, unhooking your bra and gently sliding it off. Your bare chest presses against his, skin against skin, and the sensation sends sparks of pleasure through your body. Your lips meet again, his tongue moving alongside yours, his hands roaming lower to your waist and down to your hips, pulling you closer.

You push him down to the couch, your hands reaching for his jeans. With ease, you undo the button and slide them off, revealing his toned legs and the bulge in his boxers. Your fingers trail down his stomach, feeling his muscles contract under your touch.

He flips you over, his lips moving down your neck and to your chest. With a flick of his tongue, he takes one of your hardened nipples into his mouth, causing you to arch your back and let out a soft moan of pleasure. His hands reach down, unbuttoning your jeans and sliding them off your legs.

As his lips continue to travel down your body, his fingers slide into your underwear, eliciting a gasp from you. You can feel the heat and wetness building between your legs, the tingling sensation increasing with every touch.

In one swift movement, he removes your underwear, leaving you completely exposed and vulnerable to his touch. But with Marcus, you feel anything but vulnerable. In his embrace, you feel safe, loved, and desired.

And you know that is something that will never change. 

[itsruki]

Corruped by the grim reaper

Dom!Older!Hanma x Sub!Innocent!Younger!reader

MDNI! MINORS DO NOT READ!

Masterlist:

a/n: so uhm.....I finally did it.....friends I am not sure if I like it...BUT I TRIED

synopsis: Hanma is in a relationship with Y/N, who is an innocent Model Student. He is older and takes advantage of her inexperience

Trigger warnings: afab-reader , mentions of unprotected sex, fingering, Oral M/F, older person taking advantage of younger person, mating press, petnames: Doll, Doll Face, Baby Doll, Princess, Baby

word count: 3601

You knew Hanma was bad news. You are aware. A part of you wishes for you to rub off on him and become a functioning member of society; the other part loves how deranged he is. He was almost double your age. With your tender 18 years, he really shouldn't be with you. Sometimes you question why? Even though you know the answer: You are untouched. You are untainted. An innocent angel, for him to corrupt. You are the picture-perfect girl. Rich parents, youngest daughter, top of her class, honor students, a full scholarship already waiting for you, head of the whole student body. You are the shining image of a model person, and that's what he wants to break. He wants to ruin you. 

He was a patient man. He didn't need to rush it. Not only that, but he knew you would fall for him and become his little play thing. "Open your window, doll." he texted you at 2 a.m. He knew you were up all night studying. You stood up and opened your window, just to see him waiting in front of it. "Shu, why are you here?" you told him you would be busy for the day, so you pouted a little as you were looking at him. He climbed into the room through the window and stretched. "Is a man not allowed to come see his girlfriend~?" that made you blush. He knew what he would have to say to wrap you around his finger. "I-I told you, though, I'm studying!" you responded. He is just so distracting.

You didn't even know how you two ended up dating. You met him at a club. It was your first night going out since you just turned 18. Your best friend has pestered you about going for weeks until you finally budged. While being there, she ditched you to dance with a guy. You were trying to just sit by the bar and wait for a while, hoping she might come back. A little later, a man approached you. First, he just asked you if you would want a drink, which you declined politely. After that, the man became more and more agitated, until he tried to grab you by the arm and drag you away. That's when Hanma showed up. He grabbed him by the back of his neck while asking "I see, someone wants to play a game~♡" The man looked at him in shock. It was almost as if he knew who Hanma was. Hanma had this charming yet somehow threatening smile. It felt as if he was enjoying the encounter, as if he liked picking a fight. The man apologized profusely before leaving the scene. You bowed down and said "Thank you for your help, Sir" Something in his eyes sparked. "You are quite the polite one, doll~♡" you blushed, and his smirk grew. He was defenrly older, you could tell. "Would you mind if I sit next to you, doll~?" You shook your head and gestured for him to sit. After he sat, he smirked at you and began a conversation. "So, you seem like quite the young lady~. Are you even old enough to be here~?" Again, you blushed. You looked at your hands that are on the counter of the bar and nodded "uhm, I'm 18." he giggled, and God, his giggling was so hot. It was this....dark and raspy sound... "so you are a full blown adult now, huh~? You have to be careful, little lamb or a wolf will come and try to eat you up~♡" It didn't sound like a warning....more like a threat...or a promise. "T-thank you for your concern Sir." you stuttered. Again he chuckled "Dont call me that. It makes me feel old! My name is Hanma. Shuji Hanma....and yours, doll~?" he tilted his head and gave you a taunting half smile. "U-uhm.... Y-Y/N L/N" He makes a long hmmm sound as a response "I like doll more....you wouldn't mind me calling you that, right doll~?" It was less of a question and more of a statement, as if he had already made up his mind about that. "Do you have a boyfriend, dollface~?" you shook your head "No. No, I do not." he chuckled again, this time darker. A shiver running down your spine. "Well, isn't that my lucky day~?"

After that night, you and Hanma started to see each other regularly. A couple of months later, you two became a couple. At first, the large age difference really bothered you, but at this point, you don't care anymore. You keep it a secret from your parents, but that's only to not worry them. They want you to focus on your academics.

So far, nothing physical has happened between you two. He stole some kisses from you and touched your hip here and there, but it seemed like he was trying to be respectful. He is 27 after all. He wouldn't want to take advantage of you.........right?

He dropped himself on your bed and yawned.  "I won't stop you from studying, doll~. I just came to see my girl~. Go on; I will be completely quiet~." You gave him a skeptical look, but he just gave you a juvenile smirk. You walked back to your desk and began to work on your studies. The whole time, you felt his eyes lingering on you. It made focusing so unbearably hard. You felt your blood rush into your core as you desperately tried to distract yourself with the global economic impact of the French Revolution.

While stuck in your not-so-pure thoughts, you felt his hands on your shoulders and stiffened up. He chuckled, "You seem tense~. Care for a massage, doll~?" you blushed and slowly nodded. He began to massage your shoulders. His strong hands were just the right amount of firm. In the corner of your eye, you see his tattoos on his hands: "Sin" and "punishment". Your brain wandered again....asking yourself what it felt like around your neck. You shook your head to throw out that thought, but then you heard his voice, right behind your ear, "´something bothering you, doll~?" A shiver ran down your spine as a small gasp escaped your mouth. "N-no. . I....I'm okay." He was so close that you could smell his scent. It's a mixture of cologne and his natural smell. It's deep, earthy and manly....your breathing becomes more and more deep. You try to center yourself. Your body is working against you. Hanma turned the chair around and looked into your eyes. He was towering over your tiny body. "I think it's time for a break, doll~. How about we give you a proper massage~?♡" he gave you a mischievous grin, and you blushed some more "W-what do you mean?" he chuckled. "I mean, you should undress and lay on the bed, so I can help you relax, doll face~" your face turned darker "U-u-undress?!" you almost shouted before realizing what time it is and keeping it down. "Don't worry, doll face~. I will really only massage you~. You know how I always say, I will only go further if you ask me, yourself~" That was true. Hanma always told you that. You have to explicitly ask for his affection. Kisses included. You gave it some thought before you nodded. "B-but you have to turn around until I lay on my bed!" he chuckled again. He finds it incredibly attractive how shy you were.

He turns to the wall as you slowly take off your PJ shorts and your shirt. You revealed a simple white bra with a little lace and a few ribbons. It encapsulated so well, what kind of a timid, innocent angel you are. He would obviously sneak some glances at you, unknown to you, of course. You turned around, seeing he was still facing away, before slowly unhooking your bra. Then you walked over to your bed and layed down on your stomach. "D-done." you whispered, and you heard a chuckle as a response. He walked over and climbed on top of you, kneeling only a little lower than your ass. He would only grace your back with the tip of his fingers first, causing your body to respond with goosebumps. "Do you want to start, doll~?" You blushed and then nodded. He chuckled as a respons "use your words, beautiful~" You cleared your throat before answering "y-yes...we can begin..." First, he resumed to firmly massage your neck and shoulders. You gave out some moans, it looked like you were actually pretty tensed up. Then his hands slowly lowered over your back. "Your skin is so smooth, doll~. Makes me want to just eat you up~.♡" You blushed but kept your face buried in your pillow. As he went over your back, he also massaged the sides of it, almost accidentally touching the sides of your breasts as well. A small whimper was escaping your mouth. He doesn't comment on it, and somehow it made you hope that he didn't notice. His hands go lower, just above your ass. He  rubs and massages your lower back for a while before going lower. You began to tremble and he noticed that. "Don't worry, doll~. This is all part of the massage~. I just want to make you feel good~.♡" You tried to stay calm as he began to fondle and massage your ass. He is rough with it. You couldn't help but moan. You tried your hardest to muffle it. You heard his chuckle. He moves his hands even lower, begging to knead your thighs. His hands were dangerously close to your clothed folds. His hands grabbed and fondled your thighs, up and down. Your panties soaked through more and more.

"Turn around now, doll~. It's time to massage your front~." you turned around, an arm over your face to cover how red you were. "You are so cute, doll~. I love when you get all shy on me~." he began with your collarbone. You saw his hand tattoos on your body now. He took his sweet time to touch your chest, not actually massaging your boobs. Your nippels were perky and hard, and at that point, your mental fortitude was almost completely gone. He leaned forwards and whispered into your ear "Do you want me to massage you everywhere~?♡" and all you could do was nod. "Words doll~. Use your words~." you shivered "y-yea~ please~" he chuckled dark before his hands cupped your breasts. He began with gentle fondling. "So soft, so perfect~ just the way I like'm, doll face~.♡ " his fingers circled your nippels. Making them hard and visible. "They look so tasty, baby-doll~. Can I have a taste~?♡"  you squirmed under his words and nodded as you could only answer with a breathy "y-yes...." his head leaning down as he began to lick and kiss your collarbone and then slowly moving further down. Before he sucked on your pointy nipples, he circled his tongue around them a few times. He started with the left one. He took his sweet time before finally wrapping his lips around it and sucking on it with the hunger of a starving man. Meanwhile, his right hand would work on your other breast. Your breathing picked up as you threw your head back and moan out "Shuji~!" he looked up and let go of your nippel for a moment "keep your voice down, doll~ we wouldn´t want your parents to interupped our little fun time; would we~?" Shuji pressed his face between your tits "fuck....I love your tits so much, doll~. I could die sucking on them and be happy~." he went and began to suck on the right nippel. Your hand found your mouth and covered it to muffle your moans. One of his hands slowly moved down your body and you felt it on your abdomen. He looked up again, his eyes dangerous, like a predetor; ready to devour his prey. "Do you want me to make you feel good, princess~?♡" you blushed. He had you wrapped around his finger. You nodded and just said one word. "Yes."

His hands slid down your body before finding the waistband of your panties. He pulled them down your legs and held them in his hand. He gave your panties a nice and deep wiff "hmm~ I can smell how fucking wet you are for me, princess~.♡" which made you whine. He spread your legs and looked down on your pussy. "Prettiest fucking pussy, I've ever seen~.♡'' He used his index and middle finger to rub over your lips and you moaned and bucked your hips into him. He used his other hand to hold your hips locked onto the mattress. "Stay put, doll~. Let me do my magic~.♡" his fingers coated themselves with your pussy juices while he drew circles around your clit "so fucking wet for me, baby doll~. Looking so fucking tasty~.♡" he said, moving his head closer to your pussy to get a better look. Then he slowly pushes his index finger into your folds. You threw your head back one more time as you moaned out his name into your hand. Tears build in the corners of your eyes. He looked up and smirked "so sensitive, doll? I barely started~.♡" he slowly began to pump his index finger in and out of your tight pussy. "Fuck, baby~, you are so fucking tight~.♡ we will need a lot of prep before i can fit in there~.♡" you barely could make out what he meant as your head was high in the clouds. His middle finger found its way inside of you as well. You put yourself up on your elbows to watch his fingers sink into you. He licked his lips before rubbing more cycles around your clit with his thumb. You bit your lip to not make too much noise. He picked up his pace, which caused your breathing to be faster as well. Your eyes widened as you felt something in your body to happen. "Ahh~ S-Sh-Shu! So-something...is happening!" he grins as he places his hand on your bladder and presses down while he curves his fingers inside of you upwards. You eyes widened as you slapped both of your hands on your lips to control the moans and shouts that come out of your mouth as your body began to uncontrollably twitch. "Im-im gonna pee, Shu! Stop im gonna pee!" but he didn't stop "Let it out, baby. Just let it happen, baby doll~.♡" and with one final pump of his fingers, your body began to spasm and you came all over his hand. You squirted for the first time. "Good job, doll~. I knew you were a squirter~.♡" you panted. Tears running down your face, and your cheeks flushed red. He loved how you already looked so fucked out, eventhough if he hasn't actually fucked you yet.

He leaned down, using his hands to open your pussylips for him. "Itadakimasu~.♡" You were still too out of it to realize what he was doing until you felt his tongue licking up all the juices you just produced. Your eyes widened as you bucked your hips into his face, one of your hands in his hair, the other still on your mouth. He eats you out like a hunger-stricken man as his nose keeps rubbing against your clit. You could only babble incomprehensible nonsense. His tongue reached deep, and your knees were weak. One of his hands moved back to your clit while the other remained, pressing down on your bladder. Your body felt the next orgasm already approaching as you bit down on your tongue as both hands grab his head, pressing him further into you. "Shuu!" You moaned out his name as you came into his mouth. He licked it all clean. Then he looked up to you. Your hair was messy, your face was red, and more and more tears running down your cheeks. "Was that good, doll~?♡" No answer; you were unable to make a singular sentence.

You barely noticed him getting up. He took off his shirt, then unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants. When his pants hit the floor, you saw see his massive bulge. He was hard, and he was large. Your eyes widened, and you gulped. He smirked at your reaction. He then slowly pulled down his boxers. His cock was springing free. It's so pretty. It's long and girthy. Furthermore, it was veiny and had a cute pink tip. The tip is covered in precum, which he spreaded over his cock with a few pumps. "Come here, doll~. I want you to make me feel good too~.♡" almost like hypnotized, you climbed off your bed and kneeled in front of him. His left hand found its way in your hair. "No teeth, baby-doll~. Now open up for me~." You did as told and opened your lips. He guided your lips around his cock. You could only take half of him before you started gagging. "This won't do, doll~. We will have to try harder~. I know you can take it all~.♡'' His grip on your hair tightens as he pushes your head further. Your tears became more and more. "Shhhh, relax and breathe through your nose, doll~. You can do it~.♡" you tried to do as he said and it made it a little easier. Once your nose hit his abdomen, you just tried to steady your breathing. You felt how hard it was to breathe until he pulled back and you coughed. "Good girl~. Sucking my cock, already, like a pro ~.♡" he pushed you back onto his cock and began to thrust his cock into your mouth, fucking your pretty lips. "Fuck. So fucking good~." he fucked your mouth for a few minutes until he pulled out and pulled you up.

He kissed your lips before pushing you into bed. He spread your legs and you watched him spit in his hand before spreading it over his cock with some pumps. Then he placed the tip on your folds and rubbed up and down your lips. You couldn't help but moan. This time his hand found its way on your mouth "shhhh, baby-doll~. You have done so well so far~. Now let Daddy make you feel good~." Your eyes twitched when he called himself that. Once his cock was coated with your juices, he pushed in. A sharp pain hit your body as you began to wince and cry. He slowly kept pushing in as he leaned over you. "I know baby~. It will only hurt for a moment~. But you are daddy's big girl~, right? You can do it~...fuck....hmmmfff... you are so tight, princess~.♡" Once he bottomed out, he waited for a moment. He just looked at your face. You closed your eyes and tried to breathe carefully. He removed his hand and replaced it with his lips, kissing you passionately. He slid his tongue past your lips and began to dance with yours. His hand was going back to your clit, drawing circles around it. He begins to slowly move his hips. You moan into the kiss but he didn't let go. Instead, he picked up the pace. He can see that the pain seems to have left you. Instead, it's pure ecstasy. His cock was large and slightly curved upwards, so it hit all the right spots. Your hands clawed into your bedsheets as he fucked into your tight pussy. He pulled the kiss back as he repositioned your legs on his shoulders. He pressed down and had you in the mating press now. Your eyes widened as he hit even deeper now. Your brain was completely empty as he bullied his way through your pussy and against your cervix. "Do you like that, baby doll~?♡ having me fucking your little virgin pussy while your parents sleep in the room next to us~? You love the thought of them hearing, right~? Fuck, you are squeezing down on me, baby doll~. I can feel you clenching on me~. What a naughty girl~. I'm going to ruin this pussy~. I will mold it just for me~.♡" He gave your ass a firm slap, which made you whimper. You felt the climax approaching. "You're going to cum soon, doll~? You're going to make a mess on Daddy's cock~? Do it, baby doll~. Do it~!♡" and with that, you creamed all over his cock. He kept fucking into you for a while before he chanted one thing, "Fuck!" until he shot his thick ropes of cum into your pussy. You felt him filling you up. Your brain is completely muddled up. You only knew one thing.....you could never live without this feeling anymore. 

He pulled out and laid next to you on the bed. He leaned out of bed, grabbed his pants and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He lit it and began to smoke before pulling you to his chest on your hips. "What a good Job, doll~. You fuck like a pro~. I can't wait to ruin you some more~. You're all mine~. Nobody else will have you, you hear me?~" you nodded. "No, baby~. Use your words and tell me that you're mine~." You were still panting as you tried to collect a sentence "only yours, Shu…" He chuckled. "Who do you belong to, doll~?" He stared into your eyes, and you stared back, "You, daddy!" His eyes sparked with joy. That's all he needed to hear....you are now his toy.

Taglist:

@umalovesyoux @sleeplessreader12 @animeangel21 @kariatenoh @bakuhoethotski @sanzuspwncess @sanzusbaby @hanmastattoos

©itsruki reblogs and likes are very appreciated! pls do not repost!!

[raquellemonsta]

Heyy! Since you’re taking requests, can I request a tsukishima who gets baby fever after seeing reader take care/baby sit Yamaguchi’s child, idk it sounds so sweeeeet in my head😭😭🩷 no rush though, take care!

okay, this ask is like a year old. i'm SO sorry about that. i hope you enjoy, regardless. soft kei is best kei. thank you for the wonderful request <3

wc: 1365

~~~~~~~~~~~~

opening your eyes, you see that your car has finally made it to your destination. you and your husband of about a year are visiting a good friend of both of you, yamaguchi tadashi, at his home. speaking of your husband, you turn to see him looking at you expectantly, waiting to open his door until you're fully awake.

tsukishima kei, the man of your dreams and the love of your life. the two of you had met in university and hit it off relatively quickly. he was studying history and archaeology because he had a thing for dinosaurs (he very much still has a thing for dinosaurs), and you thought he was adorable despite his initial demeanor. the serious, jerkish persona was the most evident part of him, though after you got to know him you discovered many other facets to his personality that had you falling in love. you dated for a few years, and finally married last summer at a destination wedding attended by just your parents and chosen friends.

since then, you guys have been extremely busy finalizing information with your marriage, house, and your job. kei already had his job at the sekai city museum lined up directly out of college, but you weren't as lucky. after months of job searching and apartment hunting, everything has worked out. now you have the time to see your friends on a more regular basis again.

"ready?" he asks you. you only smile and nod at him before you open your door. walking up the steps to tadashi's front door, you aren't surprised when you knock and find the door is unlocked.

"come in guys!" you hear his friendly voice from another room, further in the house.

unfortunately, yachi is working. otherwise, your close friend would have without a doubt been waiting at the door for the two of you. she had already apologized profusely to you, via both texts and calls. you promised her you understood, not that you would ever be upset with her anyways.

kicking your outdoor shoes off and replacing them with slippers, kei takes your light jacket off of your shoulders and hangs it for you. your eyes are drawn to your beautiful husband (he 'hates' when you call him that), his face solemn though you know he's excited to see his best friend again. finally, the two of you make your way towards the direction of tadashi's voice.

"long time no see!" tadashi jokes, and you smile brightly.

"it's so nice to see you tadashi" you kindly smile. in his arms sits a little baby. "who's this little angel?" you ask. you've seen pictures of the little boy, both on social media and from tadashi and hitoka themselves. he's only a few months old, but he's grown very fast. you want to scream from how cute he looks when he randomly pops up on your feed.

"this is my son, haru", he replies. at the sound of his own name, haru opens his eyes to gaze up at his dad.

"he's so cute!" you compliment, "can i hold him?". your arms already extended before he answers, and you don't miss kei's playful scoff at your eagerness.

"excited much?" he snarks. you jokingly roll your eyes at him before you again gesture to yamaguchi.

"of course! and again, hitoka's really upset she couldn't be here. yajakudo always needs her at the most random times" he apologized. he carefully hands the baby over to you, and you make sure his head is supported. he's looking up at you with the most incredulous, wide eyes that remind you of his mother.

"it's no problem at all, that girl worries too much. now go away! have some well-deserved catchup time. haru's safe with me."

again, hearing his name makes haru look up at you and smile, two little teeth poking out already. you can't stop yourself from the audible 'aww' that comes out, coaxing him to smile even bigger.

you sit yourself down with the child on the sofa and leave the guys to talk in the attached kitchen. it's close enough for them to still see you (not that tadashi doesn't trust you, it's just his dad instincts. and kei just likes looking at you), but far enough where you can't hear them in case they discuss something more private.

your heart swells at the adorable baby's sweet (mostly) gummy smile. you can't keep the grin off your face, babbling incoherent nonsense that makes haru laugh. it's the perfect positive feedback loop of happiness. you and kei haven't really talked much about children yet, since the two of you had really only just gotten settled into your lives together. you knew you wanted them eventually, though. haru seemed to be trying to push that to sooner rather than later.

from the other room, kei is trying his best to keep himself composed. he can barely focus on whatever tadashi is telling him about, eyes instead trained on you. his beautiful wife (you love when he calls you that), looking like a natural is almost too much. he hadn't considered the two of you having children just yet, (you'd only just found an apartment after all), though seeing you right now had him rethinking everything.

"you want one?" tadashi chuckles. he'd been caught.

kei lets out a signature, unconscious 'tch', but his best friend can see right through him. finally, he tears his eyes away from you to look at his friend. he certainly doesn't catch himself looking over at you every once in a while after that.

you only get up once haru has been asleep in your arms for a few minutes. carefully handing him back to tadashi, you quietly thank him and promise to visit again soon. he bids the both of you goodbye, offering kei a wink and goofy gesture. your husband rolls his eyes at this, heading over to the car where you're already waiting.

once you're both in, he doesn't start the car. very unusual for him, since tsukishima kei typically loves getting away from social events as quickly as possible. you turn to face him, trying to gauge if something's wrong. you're sure he can feel your eyes on him, even if he's blind as a bat.

he doesn't look at you, and doesn't even break from his usual monotone:

"let's have a baby"

"WHAT?"

you're suddenly woken up in the middle of the night to loud wails coming from another room.

somewhat reluctantly, you push up onto your elbows before stepping out of bed and onto the cold hardwood floor. a chill goes up your spine from the contact, but you can still hear the shrill noise from across the hall, so you put your slippers on and make your way towards the source of the noise (neglecting to notice the other half of your bed is already empty).

the light yellow room would be almost entirely dark, if not for the bright full moon shining through the window (and the moon nightlight, too). it is now peacefully quiet, with the noise of a small fan in the corner being the only sound you can register at first.

unsurprisingly, your husband is already there, holding your baby girl close to him. kei always seems to beat you to your daughter's room. he's whispering something you can't quite hear to her. even though she's mere months old and doesn't understand the meaning behind his words, she always loves to hear his voice (something the two of you have in common). her eyes beginning to close again, your heart melts at this little life the two of you have created.

looking up to kei's face, his eyes are bright despite being woken up at 2am. your husband has never been one to broadcast his positive emotions, but you know inside he's happy. your arm finds its way around his back, and his eyes switch down to you.

"was it worth it?" you ask him lightheartedly, whispering.

kei looks out the window, at the endless expanse of sky. he's held down by the warmth of his daughter and wife, his two favorite girls in the entire world. he doesn't know how he got so lucky, but in this moment there's nowhere and no one else he'd rather be.

his mouth turns upward, genuine and true.

[atinyniki]

atelophobia.

group: stray kids !

pairing: idol!bangchan x f!reader x idol!lee felix

genre: angst, fluff

warnings + additional info: reader is referred to as y/n, proposals, insecurities, crying, mentions of sex but no smut, suggestive jokes, lots of kissing, y/n is neglected

authors note: omggg my first fic for the 'making @miuracha happy' event !!! i really hope you love it <3 this fic really spoke to me because i guess... its just people being people. relationships have problems, but communication is so so important in order to keep it alive ! this has a happy ending, dw... this is also not proofread. english is not my first language, so please excuse any grammatical or spelling errors. happy reading :)

wc: 1771

atelophobia - the fear of imperfection.

“baby? we’re home!”

you quickly check the time from the clock above the stove, cursing yourself for not finishing earlier and rushing to the door to greet them. “hey loves…”, you smile tiredly. they share a look before wrapping you in a hug, dirtying their clothes from the contact with your messy apron.

you relax in their warmth for a bit… its been a long day. “missed you, my baby…”, chan whispers. felix hums in agreement from your side, leaving tender kisses across your cheekbones. they finally pull away from you, and you assess the damage done to their clothes.

you don’t mean to make your frown so noticeable, but it’s inevitable. “what's wrong love?”

before you can answer, you crouch down and use your hands to dust off the rice flour from their clothes, apologizing profusely for ruining them. the truth is, recently, it’s felt like you’ve only made things worse for everyone. it’s thrown you into this bad mental state, thinking that your boyfriends deserve so much better.

“hey, it’s really not a big deal. we’re gonna wash up soon anyways, yeah?”, felix shoots you a tired smile.

you nod, standing back up and smiling sheepishly. “um… dinner will be ready soon. it should be done by the time you’re out.”

the both of them nod, making their way into the bedroom and then the bathroom. you rush back to the kitchen to check on the tteok, but you frown once you realize you must have boiled it for too long. the rice cakes look a little too mushy, but you hope that it’ll taste good in the tteokbokki.

about ten minutes later, you hear the two giggle as they walk into the living room. “gosh, i thought you’d have more stamina baby…”

he rolls his eyes playfully, placing another kiss onto chan’s lips. regularly, you’d be happy about it. it’s nice to have a loving relationship and be able to see their love progress alongside them, but the sight of them now makes your heart clench. 

it’s different now than it was a week ago. you feel undesirable, unwanted. why can’t you ever be intimate with them? why don’t they kiss you like that? the questions run through your mind at a sickening pace, and it takes everything in you not to cry.

chan turns his head to look at you, but you look away before he notices you staring. “gosh what are you making? i’m hungry as hell…”, he giggles.

“i’m sorry… it’s taking longer than i expected”, you mumble out. felix is the first to notice your uneasiness. “no y/n, i think he just meant… because it smells so good, you know? don’t apologize, there’s no need to rush, yeah?”

you nod, smiling at him and turning back to the pot of simmering tteok. only a couple minutes go by and you’ve plated all the food nicely, setting their meals down onto the kitchen table. “food’s ready!”

the boys rush to the table, smiling once they’ve seen the food. it pushes you further to your breaking point, seeing them smile so widely at the food, but never at you. you regularly don’t need constant reassurance, but right now it feels as if everything’s breaking apart in front of you.

to make things worse, they sit opposite to you around the small circular table. your body seems to be betraying you, your bottom lip slightly quivering, and you quickly bite it to hide your pain.

they each take a bite of their food, quickly eating due to their hunger. you smile at their eagerness, finding their puffy cheeks adorable, until you see their faces go red.

“oh my gosh… what did you put in this?”, chan asks incredulously. he obviously doesn’t mean it in a rude way, but it seems that way due to everything else that’s been going on.

“i- im sorry…”, you whisper.

you pour him some more water, and refill felix’s too. “it’s so fucking— augh —spicy!”, felix groans.

“i’m sorry.”, your voice gets even quieter with every apology, the tears brimming in your eyes. “i can’t even eat this…”

“i said i’m sorry!”, you yell.

and you break.

the tears brim over your lash line, now spilling over your cheeks, and the boys finally look up from their plates and at you. the way their cheeks are filled with water makes them look incredibly stupid, and yet it doesn’t make you laugh like it normally does.

instead, you cry even harder, knowing that you’ve put them in pain. you cover your face with your hands, not wanting to show how truly vulnerable you are.

“baby…”, chan gasps out. the two of them stand up, immediately rushing to your side. the burn of their tongue can’t even compare to the pain in their heart at this moment.

“my pretty girl… what’s wrong?”, felix coos at you. you shake your head, “i’m okay, i’m sorry…”

you feel chan’s breath ghost over your neck while he whispers in your ear. “can i touch you?”

you nod, and you’re immediately picked up by chan and set down onto the couch in felix’s lap. “what’s wrong, love? did we do something wrong?”

“i just… i don’t know. i guess the feelings have been there for a while now, but it’s never gotten this bad.”, you sigh out. the boys share concerned looks, only making you want to cry even more.

“i’m fine, really. i don’t need to be babie—“

“tell me what’s wrong, y/n.”

“chan i- it’s not that simple… there’s a lot.”

you hear felix sniffle from above you, and you pry your eyes open to look at him. you feel upset, yes, but nothing would prepare you for this guilt. “how long?”, he rasps out.

“what?”

“how long have you felt like this? you don’t have to keep it from us… you can tell us everything…”

“i just…”, you sigh, covering your face again. chan grabs your wrist loosely, running his lips over your knuckles. “don’t hide from us, baby, please… tell us what’s going on.”, chan begs.

“i just… i don’t feel like your girlfriend anymore… i just feel like a roommate that you occasionally kiss at this point. you and lix have been out so much more than usual and you… you never bring me anywhere. i just want to be loved… i want to cook with you guys… and i want to sit next to you while we eat. i want to be intimate with you like you are with eachother… and i know that sounds crazy… but i just feel so… out of the loop.”

“y/n… that’s not—“

“felix… please… i just- just a little love is all i ask for… hold me, hug me, spend time with me… just don’t make me feel invisible.”

“i… i’m so sorry…”, he whispers. you open your eyes to stare at chan, who’s basically bowing on the floor, looking away from you so that you can’t see the pain in his eyes. 

“there’s no reason to—“, before you can finish, he pulls you up from his lap to wrap you in a hug.

“there's a reason, y/n. you don’t deserve that from anyone… and definitely not from your boyfriends. you mean the world to us, you really do… we were just… dealing with some things.”

“then tell me felix! i don’t mind that you two love eachother of course, i want you to. i want you to be in love with eachother and care for eachother but i just want to be in the picture. so tell me… am i still in the picture?”

“you will always be in the picture, my love…”, you hear chan whisper from beside you.

you turn your head towards him, and you almost jump when you see the dark red velvet box. his head is hung low in shame, and all you can hear from felix and chan are harsh sobs.

he flicks open the box, the three gorgeous trio rings glimmering in the light. “chan i- i—“, felix interrupts you before you can even get another word out.

“we wanted to make it special for you… that’s why we were out so much… so excited and happy all the time. it’s because of you.”

your voice gets caught in your throat, your tears suddenly fading away. the weight on your heart seems to be lifted, and yet it’s like these two are acting like the entire world is falling apart.

but that’s because it is. you’re their entire world, and they’ve hurt you. “we don’t need a special proposal, y/n. we just need you… so what do you say?”

felix pushes you up closer to his back so that you can feel his heartbeat against it. “will you marry us?”

you clamp a hand around your mouth, trying your best to suppress your sobs, but you can’t. you nod frantically, unable to say any words. nothing could have prepared you for this moment.

chan slides the silver band onto your finger, leaning over to kiss away your tears. “oh baby… don’t cry…”

“i- i didn’t mean to ruin it… i’m sorry.”

“you don’t have to apologize, my love. i’m sorry for putting you through so much pain.”

chan finally makes space for himself on the couch, pulling your legs over his lap. he lightly strokes them up and down, felix threads his fingers through your hair. all of a sudden, your stomach starts rumbling, eliciting giggles from the boys.

“you hungry baby? we can go back and eat”, chan smiles.

“i’ll just make something else… it won’t be too long, i—“

“baby, listen. it doesn’t taste bad i swear… it’s just… so spicy.”

he kisses over your eyelids, trying his best to soothe you. “it’s okay…”

“hey… we love you, you know that right?”

“i love you both too…”

you hum in satisfaction at the feeling of their hands on you. even when it’s not in a sexual way, there’s something so grounding about their touch. “eat later… i missed you guys”

“awh baby… you’re so cute. i guess we can wait a bit, yeah?”, felix coos. you lean up to leave a peck in his cheek. a simple gesture, and yet it’s so innocently sweet. 

chan leans over to swipe another tear away from your cheek, and that’s when you know you’re okay. they care about you. you don’t have to be perfect for them to love you. they want you for the person you are and nothing else. 

and you can’t wait to spend the rest of your life with them.

<3

[marvelkiddie]

Wanda had a little lamb

(!) Mommy!Wanda x female reader: Stockholm Syndrome, ageplay, manipulation, meanie Wanda, little!reader mdni

Wanda was living a “happy” life alone in her cabin in the middle of nowhere but she was missing something, or someone, and she was going to get it no matter what.

writing this bc i wanted to read something like this

You woke up to the sun shining bright on your face and a soft stroke to your hair, you don’t remember much from yesterday Wanda had made sure of that, playing mind tricks on you was so easy for her, you were so naive and to be honest you were terrified of her so anything she said you were gonna obey to eventually.

Yesterday was a rough day you fought Wanda since the moment you realized where you were, feeling so helpless against her, she tried to be kind to you but in a way that felt so wrong and gross. Flashing memories of your time before Wanda and the cabin played from time to time on your head, she allowed you to see that you where exactly where you should be and exactly where she wanted you to be. The first time you talked to her she tried to sweet talk to you but you were demanding answers and she hated that, you were so defiant not the little girl she was trying so hard to make you be, it was exhausting trying to fight her, one minute you were screaming at her and the next you were waking up from a nap chained to her bed, whenever you found yourself like that you immediately cried for her, for her to cuddle you while apologizing profusely, she knew it would take a little more time before you were happy to be there, happy to be with her.

- - -

Your hands froze on the keyboard when you heard her asking softly about what you were doing “i just wanted to see what they were saying about me”, she hummed “so? what did you find?” You searched in a panic your name in every news outlet if any of them talked about your disappearance or anything but found nothing, “nothing” Wanda didn’t even try to hide the smirk on her face, you will never know that she was way ahead of you, she muted and blocked your name and anything that could give you a little insight about your whereabouts, the moments your tried to get anything from her you got nothing else but a kiss on your temple and a pat on your shoulder, Wanda really tried to make you like her, like it there without using her powers, it wasn’t fair to her, she wanted for you to love her because you truly loved her not because you feared her. You really don’t know how long it has been since the first day you got there, slowly your mind is giving in, but you can’t give up that easily, not so soon, it’s only been 4 weeks or 6? time really means nothing when you are trapped in a cabin in the middle of nowhere with a very determined woman.

i was more inspired last night but it was too late for me to write so accept this haha i am not a writer at all also English is not my first language so i tried to spell properly!

[seancekitsch]

Can I ask you a Question?: An Adrian Chase x Reader Kinktober fic

here it is! the first fic of kinktober :) all of these are gonna be shorties but smutty

warnings: sex pollen, dub con, rough sex, spitting, slightest degradation, 

Heat spreads along your skin as you stare at the wall, a single focused point in the absolutely unremarkable plain wall of the ARGUS issued motel room, and still managing to fail completely at ignoring the other more than warm body in the room. Anger bubbles as you think about how you were shoved in here kicking and screaming in protest. It's not your fault and you should be allowed to sweat this out at home. Why does Chris even have a pheromone helmet to begin with? Why does that one just activate whenever it wants to like a malfunctioning furby? You wish you could have gotten a good punch in before Emilia shoved you in here claiming a needed quarantine, even though as Adrian pointed out, there are air ducts in the room which means nothing is airtight and if you and the air around you is the issue then the whole building is fucked.

Adrian sits beside you staring at the wall the same as you, but he walked in here willingly. He didn’t have to be in here; he doused himself in solidarity with women or some absolute bullshit that you barely heard over the near immediate effects it had on your body and the intense rush of heat towards your abdomen. You wonder if he’s feeling as hot and squirmy as you at this point, he has to be, unless he wasn't actually lying about being unnaturally fast at healing. If you were alone you’d be ripping your clothes off and hoping the sheets are cool, or maybe taking an ice bath and watching the most ick-inducing hallmark movie your can find. But instead you try to wait it out… however long it lasts. 

“Hey, can I ask you…?” Adrian trails off mid sentence, god, your scowl must be nastier than you think. 

“Ask,” you grit out, teeth bared as you try not to shiver under his gaze. Fuck, he’s so hot. Fucking annoying sometimes, but fucking hot. 

“Are you horny?”

What, like he’s going to do something about it? Heat bubbles and pools between your legs in embarrassment, even though the situation is already clear. How you’d like to just snap and ride his face, knocking those cute dorky glasses askew or— fucking shit dude. This is bad. You make the mistake of shifting how you sit. 

“I was dosed with pheromones,” you snap back, doing everything in your power to hide the the moan in your voice. 

“I know, but is it working?”

You feel yourself clench around nothing, the friction of your tight jeans a blessing and a curse right now. There’s no teasing in his tone, just genuine curiosity. You love that about him, but god does that make this harder.

“Is it working on you?” you sigh, trying to stay as still as possible, trying not to set your own body aflame. 

“Oh yeah!” he confirms, “I’ve been rock hard since before they threw us in here.”

“Please don’t give me that mental image,” you snap, and he immediately apologizes profusely, the hint of a frown on the corners of his lips. Shit, you’ve probably upset him and made him think you’re grossed out. He shifts farther away from you and groans at the movement. He’s got it just as bad as you. 

“I mean— with everything going on right now, I can’t handle that. Not you,” you try to reassure him. 

 “Oh! Well that makes perfect sense. I don’t know what I’d do if you said something like, ‘I’m so wet right now’ I’d probably—“

“You know what Adrian? I’ll answer your question. Yes, I’m horny… and you’re not helping the situation.”

“Should I leave?”

You look at him with pinched brows, incredulous.

“Emilia will probably kill you if you try.”

He grumbles something about being able to handle a stupid little bullet. 

Your eyes follow up and down his body, tracing and following the dips and bulges of his muscles to where they become obscured by armor, biting your lip to suppress a moan. You know he’s a good fighter, and it probably translates well in the bedroom. Christ, what those biceps could do, those arms wrapped around you and— head out of the gutter, you tell yourself, but it’s too damn hard, and you betray yourself and your mind flashes back to imagining his arms wrapped around you while he takes you from behind. An embarrassing little whimper escapes your lips as another wave of heat floods your core. Damn it. 

He flinches at the noise, because of course he heard it, that’s just your luck. His fists clench and unclench, gloves discarded so you can see the whites of his knuckles. He’s holding back, and he’s struggling with it. 

“Hey,” he starts, voice much more shaky than before, “What if we—“

“Yes,” you agree without thinking. Whatever it is. Yes. Whatever he wants. However he wants you. 

“Wait- Really?” he asks, voice rising in shock as he gets up, and then stumbles, clearly thrown off by his own arousal. Fuck. You lean back onto the bed, humming in pleasure as you do, trying to look as appealing as possible despite the sweat on your brow and the state of your dishevelment, even though judging by the bulge in his pants you don’t need to go through these extra steps. You lay against the sheets and throw your head back, showing off your neck and hoping he’ll sink those pearly whites into the side of your neck. 

But then he confuses you by heading towards the bathroom, walking awkwardly.

You pick your head back up, panic shooting through you. Did you get the wrong idea?

“Where are you going?” your voice does nothing to hide your desperation, and maybe you’d be embarrassed if you weren’t so turned on its starting to hurt. 

He has the nerve to look at you like you have three heads, that jerk. 

“I thought you said yes? I was gonna go jerk off in the bathroom while you do whatever you do best in here?” he hovers in the doorway with odd energy (well, odder than normal) and tilts his chin at you as if its a challenge. 

“Where are you going?” your voice does nothing to hide your desperation, and maybe you’d be embarrassed if you weren’t so turned on its starting to hurt. 

He has the nerve to look at you like you have three heads, that jerk. 

“I thought you said yes? I was gonna go jerk off in the bathroom while you do whatever you do best in here?” he hovers in the doorway with odd energy (well, odder than normal) and tilts his chin at you as if its a challenge. 

“Oh!” you exclaim a little too loudly, “Oh, I didn’t know thats what I was agreeing to.”

You smile sheepishly as he walks back into the room proper. 

“What, did you think I was suggesting we should tear each others clothes off and do things to each other?” he scoffs, and even though his face is flushed he still tries to joke as if he’s functioning like normal. Well, Adrian’s version of normal. Yeah, you totally did, and you misread this. But even his condescending tone has you pressing your thighs together and fills your head with the imagery of it all. 

“Well…” you trail off, not really sure where to go from here. You’ve reached an impasse of unbearable arousal, a work colleague, and the distance of about ten feet. Talk about shitting where you eat. 

Adrian blinks twice.

“Is what I just said an option?” he asks, his voice rising half an octave, “Because if it totally is, I change my suggestion. I was just trying not to be sexist because I remember you telling me to watch how I talk sometimes about women after I rated the team on how much I’d like to motorboat them and you were on the top of the list.”

Yeah, you remember that night. You slapped the hell out of Adrian right after that.

“Maybe you should come join me on the bed,” you suggest, and he crosses the room as if zapped with a cattle prod. 

The bed dips as his knees press into the mattress, and your hand involuntarily reaches out along the sheets closer to his heat to share it. 

He flops himself down next to you, grunting as he does so, leaning in close to you, but not touching you. God, you wish he was touching you right now.

“How do you want to do this?” you ask, your lips moving of their own desperate accord.

“Well, this isn’t how I thought I’d woo you,” Adrian admits. Woo you? Was he planning on making a move? Oh, shit. The pressures on now. You don’t exactly have a crush on Adrian but you’d never turn a body like that attached to a genuinely sweet dude like that down. 

“But?” you urge him on, placing your hand closest to him on his, making your move known. 

“But fuck it,” he shrugs and pulls you in for a rough kiss; a little too much teeth and a little too much tongue but you drink it in, pulling him in closer and gripping at his uniform.

He moans loudly into your mouth, only spurring you on to grab him more, pull him flush against you to soothe the heat inside you. It works, sort of. The heat quells for a moment when you feel his hardness press against you; but it’s only replaced by another heat, an arguably worse one. It’s the need to have him inside you, to let him wreck you, destroy you. He shifts his position to trap you beneath him, rolling you onto your back. He cages you in with his arms and legs, presses his hips into yours harshly, the fire is fed, growing stronger. You want out of these jeans and to pull him into you, want to cover him and yourself in bruises by the end of this. He moves from your lips to your mouth and you gasp, gulping at air as his lips and teeth move to your cheek and your chin and your jaw; he’s sloppy and rushed and feverish in his pace, trying to experience all of you as soon as possible.

“How do you want to do this?” Adrian asks, glasses knocked askew against the side of your face.

“Need you,” you pant, already lightheaded from making out like some novice. He rocks his hips up into your absentmindedly as he continues to press kisses into your jawline, himself desperate for friction. He chuckles.

“Need you too,” Adrian sighs, and picks his head up. You almost want to whine because he isn’t kissing you anymore.

“Do you want Adrian?” he asks, and for a moment you don’t understand, “Or do you want Vigilante?”

Fuck, how do you choose? Aren’t they both just him in some capacity? You don’t exactly know what either entails, but your brain is foggy and slow, needing and yearning and making your body writhe under him instead of thinking clearly.

“I want… fuck,” you interrupt yourself, and he pulls back to kneel on his knees above you. He looks like a god under the cheap fluorescents, the god of fumbling upwards.

��Use your words,” he demands, and you can tell he’s made the choice for you. Fuck yeah. 

“I- I want it rough,” you squirm under his gaze, your hands traveling from the sheets to the fly of your jeans, unbuttoning them preemptively. Adrian’s eyes flicker down to your hands and then back up to your face, and he smirks. 

“You think you can handle it?” he asks, newfound confidence as he moves one hand down to palm himself through his uniform pants. You nod weakly, licking your bottom lip. He tilts his head as if to shrug and uses his free hand to pull you up by your shoulder.

“Open?” he asks, as you get your arms under you to sit up. You obey immediately, opening your mouth for him and sticking your tongue out obediently. He smiles, before spitting directly into your open mouth. You swallow gladly, and the fire is stoked momentarily, as if having some of him quelled the hunger within. 

“Good girl,” he says, pushing you back down into the mattress before his hands begin roaming your body, he pushes up your shirt roughly, his warm hands splaying across bare skin, the expanse of your abdomen. His hips roll into yours again, rougher this time. When his lips capture your own, his teeth sink into your bottom lip. Your hands come up around his neck, fingers tangling themselves in his curls and pulling. He groans against your mouth, biting down. You gasp at the first copper taste of blood.

Adrian’s hands dip lower, finishing the job unzipping your jeans and hastily starting to push them down over the curve of your ass. You help him by pushing your hips up into his, giving him more wiggle room while you can rub yourself against him. He shoves the jeans down to your ankles and then stops. 

“Turnin’ you over,” he explains, and pulls your arms away from him. He removes himself from you, but only briefly. Just long enough to maneuver you onto your stomach for him and to pull your panties down to meet where your jeans confine you. 

He presses a hot hand to you, coating his fingers where you already soaked through your panties. He hums in appreciation. 

“Is this from the pheromones or from Vigilante at work?” he asks, and you groan, this time not from pleasure. 

“Ugh, shut the fuck up, Adrian,” you sigh. Of course, it’s a mix of both. The pheromones are actively probably killing you with hormones but Adrian himself is hot even if you haven’t admitted that to him. He responds with a sharp slap to your ass that makes you yelp, loud and actually embarrassing. 

“Call me Vigilante,” he tells you, and then you hear the zipper of his pants release. 

His full length enters you with no warning, but meets no resistance. You’re so slick and wet from everything, but you’ll let him stroke his ego if it means he keeps himself against you. Adrian wraps his arms around your middle, using it as leverage to slam into you harder; your body a tool to get off, but equally his body a tool to stoke the fires and make you feel real again. But fuck, if you don’t actually love this. This is the way you wish dates fucked you, the harshness and care rolled into one. Adrian’s hand wraps around you, shoved between your body and the mattress to your clit, rubbing in tight circles.  Fire ignites more, like a candle to a campfire. Adrian’s weight pushes you into the mattress, one hand pressed to the bare skin of your abdomen and the other between your legs.

“Fuck, Vigilante,” you moan, a particular movement of his middle finger making you buckle even more into the mattress below him. 

“That’s it, baby,” he praises, and presses harder. The fire stokes and spikes and calms and crescendos. Adrian’s hips don’t let up, thrusting hard and hateful, trying to break your frame with every move. Adrian will break you, and you’ll probably let him. You’ll probably let him do anything if he makes you come in the next ten seconds. 

“Are you only this slutty for me?” Adrian asks, and you nod into the pillow eagerly, whining and leaning harder into his thrusts. At this point, they hurt. It’s to the point he’s bruising your entire ass. Yeah, only for him. It’s not like your dating pool is huge here but it’s also not like you’d let anyone else on the team see you like this, but also Adrian has a certain charm to him. 

“I’m gonna- I—“ you pant, and he only speeds up the pace of his fingers and hips.

“That’s right, come for Vigilante,” he coos, and it’s like every fiber of your being releases it’s tension. 

You shout, pressing your face into the pillow as you do to avoid any embarrassing terms of endearment towards the man above you.  The shaking starts in your core, and the spreads outward. Heat spreads and explodes into almost cold in your toes afterwards. Your limbs go rigid under him. 

“That’s it, baby,” he hums, but he holds you through it, his arms holding you in place.

“Fuck!” you shout, and a particularly hard jolt of your nerves punches through you, and Adrian stills behind you. That’s all it took for Adrian to come, and he spills into you, holding you against him and moaning wantonly. 

You both breathe deeply as you try to calm down, not at all separating. You center yourself, trying to say some shit you remember from a college yoga course. You can’t see Adrian’s face, but he keeps kissing you business as usual. 

“Can we do this again?” Adrian asks, and you think for a moment. He’s a fucking psycho, maybe? but you’ve already fucked him.

“Sure,” you say, you voice still muffled by the pillow.

Why not.

[permanentmess]

may i request a cherik x mutant! reader? idk abt plot but i really need some fluff

a/n: i wasn’t sure whether to make this platonic or romantic, so i made it ambiguous! I also based this on the premise of brooklyn nine nine season 1, episode 3. reader has powers involving electricity and the year is after 1981

also sorry this took so long, i finished up my last week of work, went to disneyland, and then moved in for my senior year of college! and i apologize for this being short, i wasn't sure what to write :)

title: slump

word count: 424

summary: you're struggling with your powers, so charles and erik provide the comfort you need

warnings: none! just fluff. mild angst for plot reasons but is resolved

GIF NOT MINE

~~~

“Darling, I think you’re in a slump,” Charles says as he watches you fail to produce even a spark.

Erik nods in agreement, watching you sit down against the wall, taking a drink of water. “Take the week off and relax.” 

You vigorously shake your head. “I’m not in a slump, I swear. I just didn’t sleep well last night.” You’re lying through your teeth, causing both of them to give you a look. 

You decide to stand up again, focusing on producing sparks from your fingers and aiming them at the wall. A few shoot out, but stop just as soon. “Ugh, what is happening?” 

“Darling, I want you to take the week off, please,” Charles insists, and you begin to profusely refuse when the light above you breaks. 

“Alright fine, I’m in a slump.” 

~~ 

You’re resting on the couch in the lounge, a cup of peppermint tea in your hand. The TV is playing some old movie that you’re half paying attention to, so when Charles and Erik come in, you immediately turn your head to the sound. 

They come to sit on either side of you, and you decide to take the comfort they provide. You rest your head on Erik’s shoulder, reaching for Charles’ hand. ‘Thank you,’ you tell Charles in your head and he responds back with a gentle ‘Of course.’ 

“What are we watching?” Erik asks, finally resting his head on top of yours. 

“I don’t know, it was on. I was just relaxing.” Him and Charles hum in unison at the answer. “You can switch it to whatever you want.” 

Charles switches the stations with his powers until he lands on a channel playing Indiana Jones. You squeeze his hand as a gesture of thanks. 

It’s silent for a while, casually enjoying the movie. Occasionally other teachers will come on through the lounge, but for the most part it is peaceful. 

“I think you should try to use your powers again,” Charles says, and you’re confused. It has only been 5 days since you started your break. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Positive, darling,” he insists, letting go of your hand. You sit up and see Erik nodding in agreement. “Just do something small.” 

You’re nervous but you decide to try and turn off the TV. You focus on the energy inside the TV and see it click off immediately. Your mouth slightly opens in shock before a wide grin spreads across your face. “Holy shit, I did it!” 

You pull each of the men into a hug and turn the TV back off, messing with the lights in the room. 

In amongst your joy and trials, the men share a look, smiling just as wide at your enthusiasm.