#she’s having a girl moment don’t mind her

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Intoxication [S. R]

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

wc: 9.2k

Summary: when Spencer and reader accidentally consume aphrodisiacs, it seems impossible to maintain control of themselves. It all comes down to who will lose their mind first.

warnings: +18, mdni!! alcohol consumption, mentions of weed, unintentional use of aphrodisiacs, explicit descriptions, oral (f receiving) fingering, kissing, porn with plot, p in v, protected sex, no y/n!

It had been just over half an hour since I entered the fraternity building, fully aware that within the first second, I’d feel the need to leave. Attending any gathering wasn’t a regular thing for me. The noise, the crowds, and the multitude of germs everywhere were reason enough to avoid them.

However, that time, I thought, why not? I had never been to one of those university parties and wanted to experience it. However, I never considered the fact that, to enjoy one, you either: a) went with a group of friends or b) drank until you forgot your name and the discomfort you felt about yourself. I didn’t have the first option, nor did I want to do the second. So, after a few minutes of reflection, I decided I would walk back to my apartment and go straight to bed.

The place was huge, and since my postgraduate program didn’t include the benefit of dormitories, I rarely found myself in places like that. I was about to leave when a hand grabbed my forearm to stop me. In front of me, smiling widely, was her. The moment I saw her, I could swear my face lit up.

“Hi”

“Spencer! I didn’t think I’d see you here.”

Without letting go of my arm, she came closer, wrapping me in a hug and planting a kiss on my cheek before I could react.

I quickly glanced at her, and in the dim light, I noticed her wearing a fitted, spaghetti-strap dress in a deep burgundy red with delicate floral embroidery that looked hand-drawn on the sheer fabric. The material, likely chiffon or tulle, clung to her figure as if custom-made. I tried to focus on her leather jacket instead because the last thing I wanted was to make her uncomfortable by staring too long.

“I was just about to leave, actually.”

“Why?” she asked, noticing my sigh.

“It’s just... I don’t know anyone here.”

“Well, that problem is now solved,” she kindly murmured.

I didn’t even get the chance to respond when she had already walked over to another girl, whispering something in her ear, probably to let her know she’d be away for a while.

Even though I wanted to decline to stay, the truth was that I genuinely enjoyed her company. Rejecting her would have been too rude. We had met some time ago thanks to the advanced classes she took, which overlapped with mine. She was younger than me, of course, but only by one or two years.

She had always been kind to me, attentive, and one could say she was a friend. After all, I trusted her enough to let her hold my hand and guide me through the crowd, despite my aversion to physical contact… and people.

“It’d be a crime to let you leave so early after finally coming to a party,” she breathed once we were both seated on a tiny couch where the noise was slightly muffled. At least she had been considerate in that regard.

“I don’t even know why I came,” I said, shifting uncomfortably. She was leaning against one side, legs crossed, looking at me with a smile. “I don’t like parties.”

“Do you like drinking?” she asked. I shook my head “Maybe that’s the root of the problem.”

“Getting drunk to the point of losing control isn’t my thing,” I replied.

“That’s not what it’s about,” she murmured almost compassionately “It’s more like… fuel for your social battery, you know? You don’t have to deal with these people. I don’t even know half of them, but the guys in this fraternity are disgustingly rich and just want to get as many girls drunk as possible to sleep with whoever they can. They won’t mind if you drink a little. Enough to have fun, but not so much you end up in some stranger’s bed.”

I thought about it for a second and silently nodded. I didn’t want to look like an idiot in front of her by saying I didn’t want to drink because, come on, what kind of university student doesn’t drink?

“I understand your point, and I don’t mean to be a buzzkill, but alcohol has a more complex impact than it seems. It’s not just something that ‘fuels your social battery’; it’s a central nervous system depressant, which means it slows down brain and motor functions. That initial feeling of euphoria or relaxation happens because it inhibits the prefrontal cortex—the part of your brain that regulates judgment and self-awareness. So, technically, drinking a little might make you feel more uninhibited or confident, but it can also impair your ability to make rational decisions if you overdo it, even if you don’t notice right away.”

I paused, gauging how much more I should say before losing her interest. Hearing no objections, I continued:

“Additionally, strong liquors, which have high ethanol concentrations, can hit your system faster than diluted drinks. And if you drink too quickly, you could easily exceed your liver’s ability to metabolize the alcohol. The excess ethanol stays in your bloodstream, raising your blood alcohol levels and increasing the risk of intoxication.”

I avoided looking directly at her, partly because I didn’t want to get distracted by her gaze and partly because I was nervous around her.

“It’s not that I want to ruin your fun, but if you’re going to drink, you should do it slowly, alternating with water, and never on an empty stomach. Not to seem smarter than everyone else, but because staying in control can be the difference between a fun night and a situation you don’t want to be in.”

I expected her to look bored, confused, or even indifferent, assuming she’d left halfway through my rambling. But when I looked at her, I was surprised by the admiration shining in her eyes, accompanied by an amused smile.

“All right, genius boy, if you know all that and basically have the perfect recipe for not making stupid mistakes while drinking, why do you still refuse?” she teased playfully. I didn’t know what to say, but luckily, she answered for me “Listen, I drove here. How about we make a deal? We can drink a little, have a good time, maybe dance if you want, and if either of us starts doing something embarrassing, the soberest one will make sure to drag the other to the car and drive them home. Deal?”

She handed me her car keys, and I wasn’t sure if the brush of her hand against mine was intentional or if she had decided to linger a little longer.

I agreed to her proposal, and a second later, she was already off her seat, walking toward where I assumed the kitchen was. No one noticed us entering, too absorbed in their own business to care if we were strangers.

There was every type of alcohol scattered around, and she took the liberty of pouring me a shot of a clear liquid, which I guessed was vodka. She warned me to drink it in one gulp, and when the warmth hit my throat, I barely managed to avoid coughing. If she noticed, she didn’t say anything.

“Tastes like… strawberry.”

“It’s good, right?” she laughed, giving my shoulder a playful nudge.

Our previous seat was already taken, so she opted for us to stand in a quiet corner. I have to admit that, although I still felt slightly awkward, the vodka was having the desired effect; making me feel more animated to talk.

Talking to her was almost hypnotic. Maybe it was the rhythmic movement of her lips, still stained with traces of what had once been red lipstick, or perhaps it was her tone, but it made me feel like I had to watch her. She never faltered when she spoke, always exuding confidence and calm, no matter the topic.

On the other hand, whenever I responded, I completely lost focus. No matter what I said, she kept looking at me with a wide smile, nodding, and even leaning closer when something made her laugh. But her laugh wasn’t mocking—no, it was as if she genuinely found my intellectual jokes or nonsensical remarks funny.

Gradually, my glass emptied, and she guided me back to the kitchen, serving us moderately but consistently. After an hour, all my nerves had vanished, leaving only a normal guy enjoying the terrible background music, unconcerned about how dirty the place was, and utterly captivated by the woman next to him.

“It’s strange, you know? I didn’t think I’d enjoy something like this. Parties always seemed so… chaotic,”

She looked around with a slight smile.

“That’s true. They’re not exactly calm, but in a way, the chaos has its charm. It lets you leave everything else behind for a while.”

“I suppose you’re right. Sometimes, you just need to disconnect.”

“You seem less tense now, huh? Are you sure it’s not the vodka helping with that?”

She moved closer, almost leaning against my chest in a friendly way, and seeing her looking up at me made my face feel hot.

“Maybe. But it’s also largely due to the company.”

She seemed surprised by my sudden boldness and let out a laugh that I interpreted as a sign of approval. We continued drinking, laughing, and soon my stomach demanded food. Even in my slightly tipsy state, I still remembered that eating would help lessen the effects of the alcohol.

I have to admit that the way I held her waist to guide her to the kitchen was entirely intentional. However, she didn’t seem bothered by the contact. By this point, I’d realized that no one really cared about what we took or didn’t take, so we felt free to rummage through the pantry.

“There are chips, pretzels, Cheetos, some cookies...” she began listing, handing me each package she found.

I grabbed a stray cookie, and suddenly, she let out a sigh of admiration.

“What is it?”

“Chocolate,” she murmured happily. It was a half-eaten, luxurious-looking golden package with no label “Do you want some?”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea. Chocolate has properties that can slightly boost energy and mood. Both alcohol and chocolate can be hard for the body to handle, especially with a combination of high sugar and alcohol content. This can lead to stomach discomfort, dizziness, or a stronger hangover the next day.”

But she wasn’t listening. She had already popped a sizeable piece of chocolate into her mouth. Immediately, she offered me a piece, slightly bigger than hers.

“You have to try it,” she moaned.

I resisted, but I have to admit that the fact she grabbed my shirt and pulled me closer caught me off guard enough to let her slip the chocolate into my mouth.

“Hey!”

“You’ll thank me later.”

It was delicious, that’s for sure. Like a pair of sneaky raccoons, we kept scavenging for snacks in the kitchen until we were satisfied. She grabbed a bag of chips, and I took the bag of pretzels.

After our little break, she poured us another round of drinks, and something inside me told me it was time to stop. I decided that would be my last glass for the night.

Let’s dance she suddenly whispered, and once again, I let her lead me toward the crowd.

I didn’t know how to dance; I think that was pretty obvious. But the situation managed to make me forget that fact.

She was patient with me and laughed every time I made a mistake. Even though there was smoke around me, probably from weed, that didn't stop me from staring intently, and even somewhat intimidated, at my friend. Beautiful, statuesque, and drunk friend.

We danced for a long time until something in her swaying movements, in the way she smiled at me, began to make my head spin. It was as if the atmosphere was charged with something more—something I couldn’t identify at first.

She leaned closer, and my pulse began to quicken slightly. Her hands rose to tangle in my neck, bringing a warm sensation that followed: my thoughts seemed clearer, sharper. I wondered if it was the alcohol, but then something different began to course through my skin.

The warmth intensified, not just in my body but in my mind as well. I felt more alert, more awake, yet the calmness of the vodka lingered, balancing the sensation. My skin felt more sensitive, as if every little touch sent vibrations through me in a more intense way.

My eyes focused more on her movements, her voice, and the way the air filled with her perfume. I wanted to get closer, as if there were an invisible force pulling me toward her. And though my body responded with a soft yearning, my mind remained present, conscious of every second.

By the way she was looking at me, I imagined I wasn’t the only one experiencing these kinds of emotions.

“Sweetheart.”

“Hmm?”

“Can we sit down for a moment? I’m completely sweaty, and the smell of weed is starting to bother me.”

“Of course.”

My hands rested on her waist, unsure of where else to go, and we stumbled out of the crowd, finding a couch to collapse onto.

I was sweaty too, and we were both breathing heavily. When I saw her lean her head back against the seat, leaving her neck exposed, something stirred inside me.

“You move well, Reid.”

“Don’t lie.”

“I mean it. You just need a little confidence,” she smiled. Perhaps the alcohol dulled her sense of personal space, which is why she leaned so close to me. “You’re so smart that, with a bit of practice, you’d be the most skilled at a lot of physical activities.”

Did she know how nervous she was making me? My face was already flushed from the alcohol, the effort, and now from the way she was looking at me while twirling a strand of her hair around her finger.

I wanted to say something else, but a voice interrupted mine: a tall, burly guy accompanied by two others who seemed to be flanking him. Probably a member of the fraternity hosting the party.

He specifically addressed her, asking how she was enjoying the party and throwing in a compliment, clearly with ulterior motives. For a moment, I felt disheartened. Of course, she could have gone with him and I would have understood. I was far too used to rejection.

“I’m having a great time—with my friend. Thanks,” she exclaimed, cordial but curt.

“Want a drink?”

“Honestly, no.”

By the uncomfortable smile she gave the men, I assumed she was politely ending the conversation. With some reluctance, the guys walked away.

Suddenly, my breath caught when I felt her hand rest on my thigh, sliding painfully slowly down to my knee. I couldn’t even hear her words over the heat of her fingers on my pants.

“Sorry?”

“I thought you were going to say something, earlier.”

“No,” I quickly replied, smiling like an idiot because of the way she had leaned toward me. “Nothing.”

“I like listening to you. You know so many things, and you don’t make me feel dumb when you explain them. That’s very sexy.”

“Sexy?”

“Yeah,” she smiled, because I’d replied in a voice an octave higher than normal. “You are very sexy.”

Her compliment was followed by a soft, distracted kiss on the line of my jaw, which sent my brain into overdrive.

“Uhm… you… you’re beautiful. Very beautiful.”

My clumsy compliment seemed to please her, and I felt one of her nails, long and painted black, tracing circles on the skin of my knee. Each small movement felt deliberate, as if she knew exactly what she was doing.

“Did you know fireflies don’t just glow to communicate but also to… attract?”

Her voice broke the silence between us, soft but layered with a double meaning that made me lift my eyes to her.

“Yes, I know,” I responded automatically, my brain switching to autopilot. “Bioluminescent signals are a form of courtship. The light patterns vary by species and can be very specific.”

She turned her head toward me, her lips curving into a lazy smile.

“Of course you’d know that. But tell me something—do you think it actually works? Making someone notice you just by glowing?”

My throat went dry. There was something about the way she was looking at me, like she was expecting a more personal answer than a scientific one.

“I guess it depends on who you’re trying to attract,” I murmured, feeling ridiculously exposed under her gaze.

“That makes sense.”

Her hand slid slightly—barely noticeable—toward the edge of my knee. After tapping her fingers on my pants, she withdrew it.

She didn’t move from the couch, and neither did I. There was something about her posture that held me captive—the way she leaned back against the seat, relaxed yet naturally elegant. Her dress had ridden up slightly along her thighs, revealing more skin than I felt prepared to handle at that moment. I tried to look elsewhere, but it was as if my eyes had a will of their own, always returning to the same place.

“Are you okay?” she asked, her voice soft but laced with a hint of amusement.

“Yes, of course,” I replied quickly, turning my head in the other direction. Perhaps too quickly, because my neck cracked slightly in the process.

She didn’t say anything, but her suppressed laughter made me feel even more awkward. In the silence that followed, I forced myself to focus on something safer: the empty glass on the table, the flickering lights through the window, anything but the curve of her leg or the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed.

“It’s hot, isn’t it?” she commented suddenly, with almost theatrical casualness. Then, without warning, she leaned forward as if to adjust her shoe, causing the neckline of her dress to dip even further.

“Do you think so?” I muttered, my voice raspier than I intended.

She smiled, a gesture somewhere between innocence and knowing.

“Yes, definitely. Though maybe it’s because we’re sitting so close,” she said, glancing around as if she had only just noticed the temperature.

Her words felt like both a slap and a caress at the same time. I tried to keep my gaze fixed on her face, but it didn’t help that her eyes shone with a kind of mischievous intent. Then she lifted one leg, bending it to get more comfortable on the couch, and her knee accidentally brushed against my thigh.

“Did you know you have a very particular way of distracting yourself?” she remarked while toying with the hem of her dress, as if unaware of the chaos she was causing in my head.

“Do I?” my voice sounded weak, almost a whisper.

She nodded slowly, leaning in a bit closer until I could feel the warmth of her proximity.

“Yes. It’s like you’re trying to avoid something but… you can’t.”

My throat went dry. I wanted to say something clever, to steer the conversation away, anything to regain some ground. But instead, all that came out was a nervous, forced laugh.

She didn’t stop looking at me. Then, with exasperating slowness, she smoothed the fabric of her dress over her thigh—a casual gesture.

“You know, sometimes you seem so self-aware. It’s something that can be endearing, but also… well, how do I put it?” she paused for a moment, bringing a finger to her lips as if she were reflecting. “It makes you seem easier to impress.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s nothing, Reid. It’s just me rambling” her voice softened, and I felt the lightest touch on my nose as her finger grazed it. I tried to ignore the fact that her gaze had lingered on my lips “Scattered thoughts I have in my head.”

Without warning, she let out a loud exhale and leaned back into the couch, arching her back as if trying to relieve some muscle tension. I know she probably wasn’t aware of the movement, but it was what finally made me lose the little composure I had left.

“I need to use the restroom. Can you give me a moment?”

I escaped. Cowardly, completely, I got up and practically bolted toward the bathroom, desperate for a moment of peace. As soon as I entered, I realized I had an obvious problem in my pants—I was hard as a rock, and that wasn’t good. I looked at myself in the mirror, surprised at how flushed my face was. My pupils were dilated, my lips dry… What the hell was happening to me?

It quickly became clear that she was the reason for my situation.

The alcohol prevented me from feeling the embarrassment I surely deserved, and instead, I felt like my head was spinning. I placed a hand over the fabric of my pants, letting out a frustrated, pained groan.

I stayed there for a while, trying to think of something that would make my erection go away, but nothing worked. A couple of knocks on the door startled me, and that forced me to leave. Once in the hallway, I walked for a bit until I bumped into someone.

“Spencer! I’ve been looking for you. Are you okay?”

“No! I mean, yes… it’s just…”

I needed to think of something quickly—something believable, but not catastrophic. However, it was hard to concentrate with her body so close to mine, mere inches away from her noticing my situation.

“Did you throw up?”

“No, no, it’s not that. It’s nothing. I think the vodka didn’t sit well with me, uh, maybe I got dizzy from dancing, I don’t know. I think it’s best if I leave.”

“Poor thing,” she murmured, pouting “I’ll take you home right now.”

“I can take a cab.”

“Nonsense. That was our agreement, remember? If one of us was in bad shape, the other would take care of them. Plus, I was the one who encouraged you to drink. I’d feel bad if something happened to you.”

She was already putting on her jacket—she’d been holding it, probably suspecting the situation—and tried to find the keys in her pocket. My outstretched hand reminded her that she’d already given them to me earlier.

When she placed her hand on the small of my back to guide me out, my breathing deepened. The sensation of excitement coursed through me in a way I couldn’t ignore. I realized that something in me desperately wanted her. Too much.

It wasn’t an impulsive desire but a subtle one that had been building throughout the night—with every glance, every gesture. Perhaps the vodka had intensified my evident attraction to her, but whatever the reason, it had turned into something far more palpable.

It was almost as if my body was begging me to stop her right then and there, to kiss her recklessly, and maybe, just maybe, ease the relentless ache inside me.

The cool night air made me feel better, and as the noise faded behind us, I began to calm down. I fervently tried to hide the bulge in my pants, but the truth was she didn’t even seem to notice. Then again, it would’ve been strange to catch her staring at my crotch, right?

“Are you sure you’re in a condition to drive?”

“I’ve driven home in far worse states of drunkenness. Don’t worry,” she smiled.

She looked more lucid now, as if her intoxication had vanished in an instant. I decided to trust her abilities.

The drive home was silent, and I kept shifting in my seat, trying to find strategic positions to avoid embarrassment. I guess she attributed my silence to the supposed discomfort I was feeling, as she didn’t try to start a conversation.

She didn’t say anything when she caught me looking at her through the rearview mirror. It was an innocent glance, at least on my part, simply admiring her. Her lips were driving me crazy, her eyes, slightly narrowed from the lack of light and smudged with mascara, seemed the most beautiful to me. I didn’t know what she saw in me, but I think—no, I feel—that it was something she liked.

“Thank you so much for bringing me home… and for everything.”

“Did you have fun?”

“Quite a lot, actually.”

“We should do this more often.”

“Go to university parties?”

“Just go out in general. To a bar, grab some drinks, a coffee, the library if you’d prefer,” she laughed “The place doesn’t matter. What matters is that you’re there.”

Was she implying she wanted a date with me? I swallowed hard and looked at her, trying to decipher what she wanted me to do. I couldn’t figure it out.

“I’d like that, yes. We can talk about that later. Thanks again for the ride.”

A kiss on my cheek marked her goodbye, and I rushed out, eager to get inside my apartment. I was about to unlock the building’s door when the sound of a car horn made me turn around.

“Hey, would you mind if I use your bathroom? I’ll be quick,” she promised.

I needed to get to the shower and turn on the cold water, but I didn’t protest when she turned off the car engine.

Almost no one visited me in the apartment, so I kept the space however I pleased. It wasn’t really messy, but there were plenty of things on the desk and several books scattered around.

She entered, as she had said, rushing to the bathroom. It was only then that I dared to put a hand over my pants, swallowing a moan that was about to escape from my throat.

In my limited sexual experiences, nothing like this had ever happened to me, and I wondered what the cause might have been. Alcohol couldn’t be blamed, of course, but it was responsible for ruining my ability to react enough to find another explanation.

The shirt began to feel heavy on me, and almost out of necessity, I undid the first buttons to let myself breathe. I tried to ventilate my skin by tugging at the fabric with the tips of my fingers, but it was useless. I sighed.

I glanced around the room, just wanting to make sure nothing was embarrassing in view, and at that moment, she came out of the bathroom. She looked flushed and had some wet hair, as if she had washed her face.

“You okay?”

“Yes, just… suddenly felt a bit feverish”

“Let me check”

My intentions were purely medical when I cupped her face with one hand, putting the back of the other against her forehead to confirm or deny my suspicions. Of course, I hadn’t considered how close we would be. Or maybe I had, subconsciously, and that’s why I moved forward.

My choice of words wasn't the best either.

“You’re hot,”

“I don’t think it’s as much as you.”

A daring smile slid across her lips, and I held my breath as her fingers traced up to the line of my collarbone, exposed by my shirt.

“Why are you saying that?”

“Don’t you like it?”

“It’s just… I don’t understand it.”

A soft laugh echoed in my ears.

“Well, I think you’re very handsome. Would there be any other reason for that?”

I swallowed deeply. She noticed the movement of my Adam’s apple.

“No… I think… I think not. It’s the most logical thing.”

“Don’t they tell you that often?” she murmured, genuinely confused. I shook my head “That’s a shame.”

Her hand, which had been tentatively caressing my skin, moved up to my neck and pulled me just a few inches closer to her.

“Hey, Spencer.”

“Yes?”

“Could I kiss you?”

A chill ran down my spine. And without thinking, I answered yes.

Her mouth found mine with a softness that contrasted with the whirlwind of sensations inside me. It was a heady contrast: the sweetness of her lips against the intensity of the desire that had been building up in every fiber of my being.

My hands instinctively moved to her waist, hesitating for a moment, as if fearing that this might just be a product of my imagination. But she didn’t hesitate. Her body leaned into me, closing any distance that remained.

Her lips were insistent, demanding, and before I could process what was happening, her hand slid down to my chest, pushing me gently back until my back collided with the wall.

“I’m sorry…” I managed to murmur between kisses, pulling my face slightly away. My voice came out more trembly than I wanted.

She raised an eyebrow, tilting her face toward mine, her fingers now brushing my jawline.

“Why are you apologizing?”

“For this” my gaze dropped quickly before returning to her eyes. “No… I didn’t want you to feel it. It’s embarrassing.”

For a moment, I thought she would pull away, that the spell of the moment would break. But instead, her lips curved into a mischievous smile.

“Embarrassing? I thought I was the only one feeling all this tension,” her tone was low, almost a whisper, but filled with a certainty that made my breath grow even more erratic.

Before I could respond, her lips captured mine again, this time with more intensity. The kiss was everything I didn’t know I needed: desperate, intoxicating, completely consumed by the connection between us. I felt her body press against mine, her curves fitting perfectly as if they were made to be there. And then, all my doubts, all my attempts to hold back, vanished.

My mind was a whirlwind. Every touch of her lips, every time her tongue sought mine, was like a fire I couldn’t put out. My face was hot, yes, but now not because of the alcohol, not even from the effort of holding myself back. It was her closeness, her touch, her condescending voice still echoing in my head.

She knows what she’s doing. And she’s slowly killing me.

“Hey, wait…”

“What’s wrong?”

“Do you feel okay with this?”

“A lot. Do you want to stop?”

“No. It’s just that… you’ve been drinking. I don’t want you to think I took advantage of you” my voice came out hoarse, full of doubt and repressed desire.

Her eyes met mine, firm and warm at the same time, as if her gaze could completely disarm me.

“Relax. You’ve been drinking too, pretty, and I think if anyone could make that accusation, it would be you. Do you feel like I’m taking advantage of you?”

“No”

“I’m fully aware of everything. I don’t even feel drunk anymore. The only thing that’s making me dizzy right now is you, Spencer…”

I shivered when I heard my name on her lips like that. She continued:

“I’m just as anxious as you are. I’ve been holding back all night, trying not to make this too obvious, but I can’t anymore. Please, don’t doubt me. Don’t doubt what I want. I want you”

Her confession hit my heart like a blow and ignited a spark that set my entire body on fire. My hand moved up her back until it tangled in her hair, while the other rested on her hip. The pull was gentle but enough for her to understand that my inner struggle had ended. I wasn’t resisting this anymore.

I wanted her too. I wanted her now.

“I never imagined…”

My words were barely audible as our lips brushed in a kiss that was both an explosion of emotions and a long-awaited relief. Her mouth was soft, and so perfectly synchronized with mine that I felt like the world stopped at that moment.

Her hands gripped my shoulders, anchoring the connection between us, while my thumb traced a slow path along her jawline, savoring every detail of her skin. It was more than a kiss. It was the confirmation of something that had been lingering all evening.

When we parted just a centimeter to breathe, our foreheads stayed pressed together.

“Did that clear your doubts?”

“You have no idea how relieved I am to hear you say all that,” I replied with a weak smile, the only one my pounding heart allowed me to form.

“Then stop overthinking”

The space between us disappeared again as we kissed with desperation we had both been suppressing. Her low laugh vibrated against my lips, and I couldn’t help but smile. How did she do it? How did she drive me crazy with so little effort?

But now wasn’t the time for questions. It was time to feel.

The whole world had reduced itself to him: his warm breath, his lips that wavered between soft and desperate, and the hands that roamed my waist with a mix of reverence and clumsiness, making me want him even more. Spencer had always been an enigma to me, a balance between restraint and passion that I didn't know how to decipher... until now.

I had waited for this moment more than I would ever admit. Maybe it had been the way he looked at me when he thought I didn't notice, or the warmth in his voice when he said my name, as if it were something sacred. But now, with his body pressed against mine and his doubts finally gone, I knew I hadn't imagined anything.

It was as if the pieces of a puzzle I had been trying to put together in the dark finally clicked into place, and the resulting image was more beautiful than I had ever dreamed.

Wanting to reverse the roles, it was now him who gently pushed me against the wall, and I felt the control he always seemed to have begin to crack. His breath was heavy, his body trembling slightly, a sign that this was as new and overwhelming for him as it was for me.

"Spencer..." I murmured his name again, feeling it resonate in my chest at the same time his lips moved more intensely against mine. "Can I ask you something?"

I received an affirmative exhalation, and to let me speak, his lips moved to the hollow of my neck. Although my mouth was free, the soft and wet kisses I was receiving blurred my judgment a bit.

"Tell me”

"Did you really feel bad at the party? Or was it just..."

"I didn't want you to notice what you were doing to me. Although I think at this point it doesn't matter much, right?"

Contrary to what I expected, Spencer pushed his hips against mine, as if he wanted to prove that it was true. I could even call it a claim, something that said: look what you did to me. And I wanted him to know just how much my body was begging for him.

Carefully, I moved one of his hands from my waist, and before he could protest, I guided it to one of my thighs, dangerously close to my core. I was glad I had thought of lingerie as a great complement to my dress, maybe in an attempt to feel sexy even if no one saw it. But now, he was going to see it.

Spencer understood my silent request. Those long, slender fingers, which seemed made for more than just flipping through the pages of a book or scribbling frantic notes on paper, slid across my smooth skin. I sighed as I remembered the veins tracing a map under his fair skin, like rivers of contained energy.

Until they finally reached where I needed them. And his touch... God, his touch was something else. They were hands made for discovery, for holding, for exploring, but in those moments, they seemed to be made only for me.

Spencer wasn't an overly bold guy, so it didn't surprise me that he just traced shapes above my panties, as if he wanted to diagnose my anatomy before making any move. My sighs at his ear seemed to please him.

Suddenly, he stopped kissing me, and I huffed, since I liked the attention he was giving my shoulder, until I felt his lips drop just slightly. A loud, pathetic moan escaped me when he squeezed my tits while burying his face to leave an experimental kiss.

I was barely processing that when he knelt in front of me and, carefully, took the edge of my dress and lifted it.

My legs trembled with anticipation at the thought of what he was going to do next, and then I felt his lips brush my thigh. He started gentle, kind, but soon he began sucking every bit of skin he could, and in the end, he made sure to leave bites strong enough to make me whimper.

Who would have thought that this man, seemingly so inexperienced, turned out to offer the best foreplay a woman could desire?

I squealed as I felt his kisses trail down to the fabric of my panties, pausing for a moment to lick the length of my still-clothed pussy.

“You’re dripping wet,” he observed. I was too focused on not giving in right then and there to say anything "Is oral something you're into?"

“I don’t know,” I exclaimed honestly. I didn’t care how vulnerable I looked as I confessed that no man had ever dared to give me head “You?”

“It’s an idea that piques my curiosity, yes.”

Gently he slid some of the fabric aside to clear the way for his tongue, and I felt as if my entire body was only aware of the parts he was probing, kissing, sucking. When he raised my thigh to shoulder height, deepening his thrusts, I felt like I was going to pass out.

I lowered my hand to his thick head and tried, in vain, to push him away from me. I honestly didn’t have the strength or desire to do so, much less when he had picked up the pace.

I moaned a sweet nickname out loud and then Spencer pulled away, looking up at me with glossy, swollen lips.

“Take me to bed, please.”

He didn’t need me to say it twice as he immediately stood up and took me by the waist to guide me to said spot. I was able to taste myself on his lips and for some reason that only turned me on.

Once we hit the mattress the way he laid me down was gentle and I sighed at that. How could he be so sweet all the time? I wondered. And worse yet, how much would this little adventure affect my future expectations?

Because if it was about standards, I was finding out that Spencer Reid was the standard.

Seemingly more enthralled now by my lips than my pussy, he continued with the make-out session we were having. With each touch we had, my excitement was increasing more and more. In the midst of it all I managed to unbutton his shirt and take it off to leave it somewhere on the bed; the semi-darkness of the room shielded any insecurities he might be feeling, as well as my own.

“You are painfully stunning, did you know?”

My tone was one of reproach, and he laughed at that, looking down almost embarrassed. Maybe he wasn't used to compliments, but something told me he was definitely enjoying it.

I heard him murmur something under his breath about me, while he took down the straps of my dress. My hands almost instinctively went to unbuckle his belt, and before I could do anything, he pulled away from me. Needless to say, this left me confused.

"Sorry, I..."

“You don't want to?” I murmured understandingly. I thought maybe he wasn't a big fan of these situations, and I understood, but somehow I felt hurt.

"No! Sure I want to. I want it a lot, but..." he tried not to look at me, as if avoiding confrontation "It's just that I don't have any protection here”

A laugh escaped my lips, and I feared he might interpret it as mockery, so I stretched my neck to steal another kiss.

"One would think there are many girls who pass through these sheets."

"Don't make fun of me."

"I'm not making fun of you. It's cute, actually. It even makes me feel guilty," I murmured, smiling "For a second, I was afraid something had made you uncomfortable."

"No, it's not that."

I hesitated for a second whether I should suggest what was on my mind.

"We could do it like this. It doesn't bother me."

"It's not just about avoiding an unwanted pregnancy..." he began. At that moment, I saw him return to his usual nerdy mode. "Although, of course, that counts. But there are things like sexually transmitted infections, some of which don't even show symptoms at first and could complicate things if not detected on time. I know this doesn't sound very attractive, but believe me, protection isn't just for avoiding future problems; it's also to take care of you now, so you don't have issues later: because sometimes men can transmit diseases we're asymptomatic for, and to be honest, I've never done those kinds of tests. A lot of people don't think about it, but the risks are real. And don't get me wrong, I trust you, but even though you trust me, diseases don't discriminate. And I'd like us both to have that peace of mind. Prevention is never too much."

“You conflict me deeply. On the one hand, I admire how responsible you are; it's very cute. But on the other hand, I just urgently need you to fuck me deep and cum inside me”

Spencer was surprised by my desperate whining and tensed when I placed one of my legs around his waist, trying to persuade him. But I was even more surprised when I felt him pull completely away to stand beside the bed.

"Where are you going?"

"To the pharmacy," he announced, putting a jacket over his bare torso.

"Are you serious?" I laughed widely, sitting on the bed now that my companion had moved away.

"Definitely. I feel like I can't handle it any longer, it’s physically painful, and when you talk to me like that, it just drives me crazy” he groaned, joining in the fun. It was the first time something like this happened, and I honestly thought it was absolutely hilarious “I'll be back in a minute, I swear! Please, don't go...”

"I couldn't," I murmured sweetly. He came closer, and I took the opportunity to kiss him again "Be quick. I'll be waiting anxiously for you."

Something in my tone of voice affected the man, or maybe it was the wink I gave him, but I saw him bolt out the door. I flopped back onto the bed, taking a moment to digest what was happening.

I have to admit that my classmate had always been attractive to me, but I never thought he could feel the same way. Not even in my wildest dreams did I imagine that I would be waiting for him in his bed so that, with any luck, he could ravish me without holding back.

As I reached out my arms, I could feel the fabric of the shirt I had previously removed from him, and then I brought it up to my nose, inhaling without thinking. A familiar scent hit me immediately: the mix of sweet cocktails he had drank during the party and a subtle trace of cannabis, as if the night was still impregnated in him. I could distinguish a hint of wood, perhaps from the furniture in the place, combined with a light scent of sweat that was not bothersome, but rather natural. And then, among all that, there was his perfume: a citrus and spicy aroma that evoked something fresh, but also deep, sensual, as if every molecule of his being was waiting for something more. I breathed harder, feeling that this aroma, this moment, defined him.

I didn't know why that particular night my whole body was screaming for his closeness. I was crazy about him and it wasn't the alcohol's fault, because I'd had too many drinks to know. Neither of us had ever done drugs and for a moment I was terrified by the idea that I could want to be with someone like that, with such fervor that it was worrying.

Still dizzy from the excitement of the moment, I lowered one of my hands to my crotch to get rid of my panties. I thought about him, wondering how skilled he was. Not that I doubted his abilities, but just like I’d told him that night, he might need some practice.

I started to fantasize about helping him through this situation, maybe guiding him or pampering him by just asking him to lay back so I could do all the work. Spencer was the kind of man who invited you to please him, the kind of man you wanted to satisfy because he never pressured you into it.

Playing with myself, I sniffed his shirt again, desperately wishing I could have the source of said scent with me, until my brain was filled only with daydreams in which he was the protagonist and my fingers were replaced by his. That's why I didn't notice when he opened the apartment. And that's why I didn't know he was watching me from the door frame until I heard him let out a ragged sigh.

Being caught in that position made me feel embarrassed at first, but the way he practically lunged at me and kissed me more decisively than before, I figured he liked seeing me like that.

"Busy?"

I was caught off guard by his sassiness and I knew he was proud of it by the smile I felt on my neck.

“I guess you found what we need, right?”

“Uh-huh”

“Have you read any books on female anatomy?”

“Quite a few”

“So I guess you know a lot about sexuality, don’t you?”

“In theory, yes. Unfortunately, I haven’t had many opportunities to put it into practice.”

A smile spread across my face, which luckily he couldn't see because he was too busy leaving a trail of kisses along the top of my torso.

“How unfortunate, considering you’re a scientist. I wouldn’t mind becoming an object of your study, though, you know?”

He subtly slid the straps of my dress and revealed my bra, from which a considerable part of my boobs protruded, which he happily kissed.

At the same time his hand came down to caress me, making me shiver with anticipation, resting on just the right spots. It was the least I could expect from such an intellectual man, one who definitely knew about the thousands of nerve endings concentrated in my clitoris, which he was definitely tapping into to satisfy me.

“May I?” he whispered, looking at the little underwear he still had on.

I nodded immediately and arched my back to make it easier for him to unbutton it, which didn't take too long. He was practically worshipping every inch of my skin, which, combined with his gentle yet firm fingers rubbing me, was driving me crazy.

We both moaned in unison as he pushed a finger into me. It felt just as good as I had imagined.

I had read somewhere that, physiologically, women need more time to achieve an orgasm and although none of my exes had cared about that, this one seemed to know that fact. Maybe that was why he was giving me such attention, which I was undoubtedly grateful for.

“Honey…” I choked out “you’re doing great, really, really good, but would you mind if we replaced those fingers? I want to feel you inside me,” I practically begged.

I never begged, I felt like a fool doing it, but if that got me the intensity of the kiss he gave me, I wouldn't mind starting to do it.

Spencer pulled away from me, searching for the packet of condoms he'd run off to get, and while he unbuttoned his pants I got rid of my dress, which by this point was just a mass of fabric around my waist.

My body wasn't perfect, but I figured that wouldn't matter to him. Besides, I doubt he'd be rude enough to mention it.

“Need a hand?” I joked playfully, noticing that he was struggling to open the silver package.

“I’m sorry, I’m just a little nervous,” he said to himself, hoping I wouldn’t mind too much.

I wanted to reward him for treating me so well a few moments ago and I took the package from his hands, placing my palm on his chest until I laid him down against the mattress. Once in that position it wasn't difficult to get rid of the wrapping to place the piece of latex on him, thinking that I didn't have a single complaint about his body.

My hands on him made him nervous and I watched him turn into a mess as I began pumping his cock up and down to make sure he had the condom on properly.

“You don’t have to hold back. I like the sounds you make,” I exclaimed in a velvety tone, trying to sound as genuine as possible “That way I know you’re enjoying it.”

“I don’t think I’ll be able to hold out for much longer,” he confessed, as my hand continued to move along his length. Although I wished I could take better care of him, I understood the situation.

“Your wish is my command”

He didn't complain when I put each leg on his sides and he bravely hardened as I teased him for a moment before sinking my pussy onto his dick. I started slow, trying to make him last as long as possible, but with each second it was getting harder to keep up a pace.

I tried my best to ride him, trying to give him the best experience as a thank you for all his hospitality. And from the whimpers coming out of his throat I assume I was doing my job well.

At some point his hands ended up on my hips, guiding me as he pleased. Sometimes he pushed me down, as if he wanted to get to the bottom of me, and other times he manipulated me so that the thrusts were fast.

He wasn't lying when he said he would cum in no time, as the repressed desire added to the previous sexual actions had him on the edge of the abyss. I knew he had reached orgasm when he closed his eyes and his hips slammed against me, in erratic movements.

I kept riding him a little longer, chasing my own climax, and when I got it I put my hands against his chest, arching in pleasure. Spencer, breathing heavily, grabbed my wrists in his hands and then pulled me so that I was against his torso, my lips too close to his.

He placed his palm on my cheek and pulled me in his direction, seemingly asking for a kiss. I granted it.

“Are you satisfied?”

“I am,” I sighed wryly. It was cute that he didn’t know that sometimes girls don’t even make it. “How was it for you?”

“I'm speechless.”

I laughed and, to a certain extent, felt flattered that I had left a man who knew a million ways to express himself in that state.

We enjoyed the high we had just had for a few minutes and waited for our breathing to slow down; when our sighs took the same rhythm, he spoke again.

“You should go to the bathroom. It’s, uh… healthy for you to do it after every encounter.”

I reached for the garment he had been wearing and, trying to protect myself from the cold air, I put it on over myself.

“Do you mind lending it to me?”

“Nu-huh,” he hummed, eyeing me as if I were a cupcake. I would later learn how affected he was to see me using his clothes to slide out of bed.

When I came out of the bathroom he already had his boxers on, probably wanting to maintain modesty, and when he went to attend to his needs I also looked for my panties. It wasn't long before he returned to keep me company.

“Do you want to cuddle? I’d feel like a whore if I just left”

“Yes, of course I want”

He made sure to throw anything that was on the bed onto the floor and patted the pillows to make them more comfortable. I settled into the space next to him, leaning against his chest, right at heart level.

One of his arms was holding me from behind and in some strange way that made me feel safe; protected.

“Your feet are frozen, are you cold?”

"Not much"

“Do you want me to get you some socks?”

“I’m fine, Spencer,” I laughed softly. I brushed my cheek against his skin and tried to snuggle closer to him. “It’ll just get colder if you leave.”

“Did you know that the human body is incredibly efficient at maintaining its temperature? When two bodies are nearby, like… now,” he paused, settling a little closer to me, “heat transfer occurs due to thermal radiation and direct conduction. Essentially, each body generates heat that helps the other maintain a stable core temperature.”

“So you’re like a human blanket”

“That’s right. In fact, in situations of severe hypothermia, sharing body heat in this way can literally save lives.”

I raised my head to look at him and noticed an excited gleam in his eyes, the one he always had when he shared something from his vast knowledge.

“I’ve been thinking quite a bit about what you said earlier, about female anatomy,” seeing him frown, I continued, “No field of study considers one experimentation enough, right? Everything needs to be replicated two, three, four times. Ten times if necessary.”

“Your guess is quite accurate.”

“Say no more. We must give everything if it is in the name of science”

From the smile on his face, I knew that my joke had pleased him and that my proposal seemed to please him. To seal the deal I reached up and kissed him softly. We remained silent for a while, him caressing me over his own shirt and me enjoying the closeness.

“I like you a lot”

“I had a feeling,” I teased, earning a soft laugh from him “I really like you, too."

He pressed a kiss to my forehead and for some stupid reason a blush crept up my cheeks, even though we had just had sex. I carefully placed myself on top of his body and buried my face in his neck, feeling him hug me around the waist.

It didn't take long for him to fall asleep, I could tell by how calm his breathing was becoming, and I tried to enjoy the peace he emanated a little longer, until, eventually, Morpheus picked me up in his arms too.

@spoolsofgreenspoolsofblack @shuichiakainx @gghostwriter @cafters @weallhaveadestiny @your-left-sock @jaeminsmilk @tmrs-basilisk @kristennotstewart @lostinwonderland314 @f4tpo3s @lortheswiftie @dark-unicorn222 @samsienichole @blackholegladiator @gretaandthatsit @cherrysprlte @halfbloodwriter @piercethefic @reidingandallthat @ariel-23-19 @zorrasucia @ihatethecrowdsyouknowthat @juluina @kylakins88 @tinainaction @sadroses98 @dumbbunnys-safes @bowerfeithwk @freyafriggafrey

Thank you very much for your interest! I hope you liked it, if you feel like it, let me know what you think :)

[crushpunky]

actress!reader attends the golden globes (with a special accessory)

masterlist | actress!reader masterlist

based off of this ask + tom/zendaya’s engagement :)

With a final deep breath, y/n stepped out onto the red carpet of the Golden Globes. Bulbs flashed and fans screamed as she walked out, grinning and waving to onlookers, her golden gown popping against the floral backdrop. It wasn’t her first time attending, however, it was her first time attending an event with a certain accessory donning her finger… her ring finger.

Y/n posed, flaunting her perfectly practiced smile along with a toss of her hair before resting her hands on the front of her gown. Her fingers splayed out, flashing the glittering diamond Drew had given her nearly a month ago. Initially she’d been hesitant to wear it on the carpet, unsure if she should come out so soon with it or without Drew, who was unable to attend due to prior scheduling obligations. As she floated along the red carpet, she could hear litters of whispers and pointing from fans, which caused a mischievous smirk to spread across her perfectly lined lips.

“Y/n, looking stunning today!” An interviewer waved her over, an excited grin on their face. 

“Thank you so much! You’re looking beautiful as well.” Y/n smiled.

“So, would you mind giving us some more info about your outfit? It’s absolutely gorgeous!” The interviewer said, gesturing to her dress and array of diamond accessories.

“Thank you, thank you.” Y/n chuckled, smoothing down the front of her satin gown. “Well, it is the Golden Globes, so why not gold, right? But in all seriousness, my stylists did an amazing job and I cannot thank them enough for all their help.”

“Of course, nothing but love for all the stylists tonight.” The interviewer laughed. “Y/n, I do have to ask you a question because everyone has been talking about it since you stepped out here on the carpet today.”

“Oh no, now I’m scared.” Y/n bit her bottom lip, already having an idea of what the question might be.

“Your ring… is this an announcement?” The interviewer asked with a quirk of her brow. Y/n laughed, subtly looking down at the large ring on her finger.

“Hmm, I guess I don’t know what you’re referring to.” Y/n shrugged, a cheeky grin on her face.

“Are you and Drew engaged?” The interviewer asked, gesturing to y/n’s ring.

“That’s a good question.” Y/n said simply, a wide smile remaining on her face as she stood in silence for a moment, the interviewer waiting for an answer before the two of them started to laugh.

“Oh, I think my publicist is calling me!” Y/n said, pointing back towards the entrance to the venue, her publicist nowhere to be seen. “It was great to chat, have a good night!”

The show went on smoothly, y/n watching each of the segments from her seat, mindful of the various phones she saw focused in her direction each commercial break. Her table was filled with fellow actors, including Drew’s nominated “Queer” castmates she’d gotten quite familiar with during her multiple visits to the set.

“Y/n, oh my goodness!” A voice greeted her as they cut for commercial. Y/n turned to see Ayo Edebiri waving excitedly, her usual wide smile on her face. The two of them had met at multiple Loewe events in the past, usually spending the entire event laughing and chatting.

“Oh my goodness, hello!” Y/n smiled, the two of them hugging briefly before pulling away to admire each other's outfits. Ayo wore an oversized, gray Loewe suit paired with a golden tie, an homage to Julia Roberts iconic look.

“It’s so good to see you, you look so good, girl.” Ayo said, gesturing to y/n’s gown before her eyes caught onto y/n’s glittering ring. Ayo quickly grabbed her hand, examining y/n’s finger with a quirk of her brow. Y/n said nothing, giggling at Ayo’s expression.

“Y/n…” Ayo sang quietly, an excited smile spreading across her face as y/n nodded in silent confirmation. With a squeal, Ayo pulled her into a tight hug, the two of them laughing.

“Oh my goodness, congrats!” Ayo whispered before pulling away, the lights flashing to signal the end of the commercial break.

“Thank you, it was so good to see you!” Y/n said, waving to her before finding her way back to her seat, the show continuing. Little did she know, her and Ayo’s interaction, including their admiration of her ring and their excited squeals, was caught on camera by an especially observant attendee. Like a wildfire, the video spread across the internet, only further fanning the flames of the engagement rumors.

It wasn’t until she got home to Drew, the two of them giggling as they scrolled through the internet’s reaction, did they finally decide to respond to the rumors…

tag: @anothertimegirl

[mysunshinetemptress]

Insight 4

Smarter universe

A/n: I feel like this one I might edit a bit more so a rerelease might cone idk I don’t really like my writing in this. it’s 1am and I wanted to give you guys another insight as promised. Also thank you to @womenwoso for helping with the logistics of this insight.

Leah hasn’t known what it’s like to not wake up and feel nauseous for the past few days, not since you left, but today it’s worse, today she goes to training and although she hopes you’ll be there in the back of her mind she knows you won’t.

Leah’s slow to get ready, slow to leave and slow to arrive to Sobha Reality training ground, she’s late and her teammates don’t understand why. Leah’s never late, you’re never late.

Leah checks in and trudges her way to the changing room where the rest of the arsenal girls are, slowly Leah pushes the door and walks making a b line for her locker before throwing her bag down and quietly getting ready.

Leah doesn’t miss the way the girls look for you coming in behind her like you usually do, and she definitely doesn’t miss the questioning glances between Steph and Alessia.

“Le where’s Y/n.” Leah shrugs continuing to get ready, her eyes glued to the floor. Steph steps forward “hey mate, where’s Y/n? She didn’t answer the phone to Less or I this morning.” Leah mumbles into her chest “I don’t know.” This only causes more confusion between the pair as Leah continues to put on her training gear.

“What do you mean you don’t know Leah you live together, you’re married to her for godsake” Leah feels her stomach flip “she’s gone-she left.” Alessia steps forward her own stomach dropping, gone, left. Where, why and why didn’t you text them or call it doesn’t make sense. “ She would have said something, why did she leave arsenal.” Leah shakes her head as she feels her emotions start to rise again “not Arsenal, not yet anyway.” Leah pauses tying her shoe “she left me.”

Leah hates that for a slight moment you’re the bad guy and that her friends support her, but it’s all a lie. Steph puts her hand on Leah’s shoulder comforting her “what happened.” Leah shakes her head the tears forming in her eyes as the feeling of getting sick intensifies “I cheated.” She lets out quietly so quietly that Steph is the only one to hear.

Alessia looks confused “what.” As Steph recoils her hand as though she’s just been burned “you did what.” Leah shakes her head “please Steph.” Steph doesn’t take pity on her instead she shouts “you cheated on your wife, on Y/n.”

The rest of the girls all seem to freeze as they turn to look at their Vice captain “you better be taken the piss.” Katie shouts from across the room.” But Leah’s silence is deafening “Leah.” Kim tries but the defender stays silent.

“She won’t answer our texts, our calls, how-is she safe.” Leah doesn’t answer she can’t answer she doesn’t know where you are, she doesn’t know you’re wrapped up in her bed in her childhood home holding on to her jumper as you sob.

“I don’t know….we…she talked and then she left.” Leah lets out, “who was it Leah.” Leah’s head turns to Lia and the knot in her stomach tightens “I-Lia.” Lia already knows, she wish she didn’t but she does “Leah.” Leah shakes her head “I didn’t-please- it-I don’t know it just-we just…please.” Lia feels sick and the room spins slightly at the thought that she had been introduced to HER months ago when Leah and her met up for coffee and SHE came bouncing over.

Steph has her phone out as she tries you again and again Alessia’s frozen “but what about everything-you guys were supposed to be having a family.” They don’t know Leah thinks of course they don’t know she didn’t know “we are.” The room seems to drop like a led balloon.

Leah’s up against a wall next Katie holding her shirt in her fists “please tell me your wife…who wants nothing more than a family with you…who we have all seen cry day in and day out over not being able to have a baby with you isn’t pregnant because if she is so help me god Leah.”

Again Leah’s silence is all it takes to confirm the team’s worst fears. “I don’t know who else to call.” Steph lets out painfully “everyone else is in this room” Leah gulps, your gone, you’re not answering your phone and Steph right everyone you love…you think of as your friends, family are in this room and once again the knot gets bigger.

Katie drops Leah back to her feet “Kim.” Kim looks at the Irish girl “you’re suspended”. Kim turns to Leah as the vice captain tries to protest “I don’t want to see you near this place until I say otherwise.” Leah nods packing up and heading out the door.

“Leah.”

Lia chases after her stopping just at the car park “please tell me that it’s not HER.” Leah shakes her head “I…” Leah’s interrupted by a car honking HER car as SHE pulls up beside the duo “Hey baby ready.” Leah turns and looks to Lia “I-i can explain.” Lia shakes her head “don’t bother, you’ve made your bed and clearly you still enjoy sleeping in it.”

[elryuse]

ANTHEM pt.3

MULTIPLE FEMALE IDOLS X MALE READER

TAGS : MULTIPLE FEMALE LOVE INTEREST, HAREM, KISSING

WORDS : 3,981 Words

This is Part 3 of The Anthem Series. For The Other Anthem Series, Please Kindly Check over Here.

Y/n stretched lazily in his bed, the cold morning air nipping at his exposed skin. The room was quiet except for the soft hum of the heater struggling to keep up with the winter chill. He blinked away the remnants of sleep, turning his head slightly to find Wonyoung nestled close beside him, her face peaceful and serene. She was wearing her signature oversized black t-shirt, the fabric pooling around her delicate frame. Her dark hair fanned out across the pillow, catching the faint light streaming through the curtains.

She looks like a princess, Y/n thought, his heart softening as he watched her. He didn’t want to disturb her, but he knew they couldn’t stay like this forever. Carefully, he shifted the blanket that covered them both, lifting it slowly so as not to wake her.

But Wonyoung stirred almost immediately, her eyes fluttering open. She blinked up at him, her lips forming a pout before she even fully registered what was happening. “Why are you leaving me?” she complained, her voice thick with sleep but tinged with mock indignation.

Y/n chuckled softly, reaching over to ruffle her hair. “Good morning to you too,” he said, earning a small groan from her as she swatted his hand away half-heartedly.

“Don’t mess up my hair,” she grumbled, though her pout softened into a smile. She rolled onto her back, stretching her arms above her head, the hem of her shirt riding up just enough to reveal a sliver of smooth skin. Y/n’s eyes lingered a moment too long, and when Wonyoung caught him staring, her grin turned mischievous.

“What’s wrong, oppa? Never seen a girl wake up before?” she teased, propping herself up on one elbow. Her voice was light, playful, but there was something underneath it—something that made Y/n’s stomach tighten.

He cleared his throat, trying to play it cool. “You should head back to your room. Yujin’s probably wondering where you are.”

Wonyoung shook her head, her expression stubborn. “No. I like it here. Your bed is warmer than mine.” She scooted closer to him, her body heat radiating against his side. “And you’re warmer too,” she added, her voice dropping to a whisper.

Y/n sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Wonyoung, you know we can’t—”

“Can’t what?” she interrupted, tilting her head innocently. “It’s not like anyone will notice. Everyone’s still asleep.”

Yeji’s probably already awake, Y/n thought but didn’t say. He didn’t want to argue with her, especially not when she was looking at him like that—her big doe eyes filled with a mix of innocence and something far more dangerous.

“Fine,” he conceded, leaning back against the pillows. “But only for a little while.”

Wonyoung smiled triumphantly, settling back down beside him. She tucked her head against his shoulder, her breath warm against his neck. For a moment, they lay there in silence, the rhythm of their breathing syncing naturally. But then Wonyoung shifted slightly, her fingers tracing idle patterns on his chest through his thin t-shirt.

“Oppa,” she murmured after a while, her voice barely audible. “Do you ever think about… us?”

Y/n froze, his heart skipping a beat. “Us?” he repeated, his voice cautious.

Wonyoung pulled back slightly to look at him, her expression serious now. “Yeah. You know… how we spend so much time together. How I always end up in your bed. Don’t you think that means something?”

Her words hung in the air, heavy and unspoken. Y/n opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, Wonyoung leaned in closer, her lips brushing against his ear. “I think you like having me here,” she whispered, her breath sending shivers down his spine. “Maybe even more than you want to admit.”

Y/n swallowed hard, his mind racing. He wanted to deny it, to tell her she was just imagining things. But the truth was, he did like having her there. More than he should. And the way she was looking at him now, her eyes dark with something he couldn’t quite name, made it impossible to think clearly.

“Wonyoung…” he began, but she cut him off again, this time by pressing her lips to his in a soft, tentative kiss. His brain short-circuited, his hands moving instinctively to her waist as he kissed her back. It was brief, chaste even, but it left his heart pounding.

When she pulled away, her cheeks were flushed, but her smile was triumphant. “See?” she said, her voice smug. “You do like me.”

Y/n groaned, running a hand over his face. “This is such a bad idea,” he muttered, though he made no move to push her away.

Wonyoung giggled, her fingers trailing down his arm. “Since when have we ever had good ideas?” she countered, her tone light but her gaze intense. “Besides, I promise I won’t tell anyone. Not even Yujin.”

The mention of Yujin made Y/n’s stomach twist. He knew he was playing with fire, but the way Wonyoung was looking at him—like he was the only thing that mattered—made it impossible to care.

Before he could stop himself, he cupped her face gently, his thumb brushing against her cheek. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he said quietly, leaning in to kiss her again.

This time, there was nothing soft or tentative about it. Wonyoung responded eagerly, her hands tangling in his hair as she deepened the kiss. Y/n’s grip on her waist tightened, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them. Every rational thought fled his mind, replaced by the overwhelming need to touch her, to feel her, to lose himself in her.

Their kisses grew more desperate, more urgent, until Wonyoung finally pulled back, panting slightly. Her eyes were dark with desire, her lips swollen and glistening. “Oppa,” she breathed, her voice trembling. “I want you.”

The words sent a jolt of electricity through him, his resolve crumbling completely. He didn’t speak, didn’t trust himself to form coherent thoughts anymore. Instead, he leaned in again, capturing her lips in another searing kiss as his hands roamed lower, exploring every inch of her soft, warm skin.

Wonyoung gasped, arching into his touch. “Y/n,” she whispered against his mouth, her voice breaking on his name. “Please…”

He didn’t need to be told twice. With a low growl, he flipped them over, pinning her beneath him as his kisses trailed down her neck to the collar of her oversized shirt. Wonyoung let out a soft moan, her nails digging into his shoulders as he tugged the fabric aside, exposing more of her bare skin.

But just as his lips brushed against her collarbone, a sharp knock on the door shattered the moment. They froze, their breaths coming in ragged gasps as they stared at each other, wide-eyed.

“Y/n?” Yujin’s voice called from the other side of the door, sounding way too cheerful for the situation. “Are you awake? We need to talk about practice today!”

Y/n swore under his breath, pulling away from Wonyoung reluctantly. “One second!” he called back, his voice strained.

Wonyoung bit her lip, trying to stifle a laugh as she sat up, fixing her shirt. “Well, that’s unfortunate timing,” she whispered, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Y/n shot her a glare, though the effect was somewhat ruined by the flush staining his cheeks. “You need to hide,” he hissed, gesturing toward the closet.

Wonyoung rolled her eyes but complied, slipping out of bed and padding silently across the room. She paused at the closet door, glancing back at him with a smirk. “We’re not done, oppa,” she said softly before disappearing inside.

Y/n took a deep breath, trying to compose himself before opening the door. Yujin stood there, grinning broadly, completely oblivious to what she’d just interrupted.

“Morning, sleepyhead!” she chirped, stepping past him into the room. “I brought coffee. Thought you might need it after last night.”

As she set the tray down on his desk, Y/n glanced nervously at the closet, wondering how long Wonyoung would be able to stay hidden—and what fresh chaos was waiting to unfold.

Yujin’s cheerful expression faltered as she stepped further into the room, her nose wrinkling slightly. She tilted her head, sniffing the air like a curious kitten. “Hmm… what’s that smell?” she mused, her voice light but carrying an edge of suspicion. Her gaze flicked around the room before landing on Y/n, who was standing stiffly by the door, trying to act natural.

“What smell?” Y/n asked, his voice a little too high-pitched. He cleared his throat, crossing his arms casually over his chest, though his heart was pounding. She couldn’t possibly know, he thought, even as beads of sweat threatened to form at his temples.

Yujin wandered closer to him, her eyes narrowing playfully but with a hint of something sharper beneath the surface. She leaned in, sniffing dramatically near his shoulder. “It smells like… Wonyoung’s perfume. The one she always wears.” She straightened up, hands on her hips, and fixed him with a knowing look. “Strawberries and vanilla. Very distinctive.”

Y/n froze, his mind racing for an excuse. Think, think, think. Before he could respond, the closet door creaked ever so slightly, drawing Yujin’s attention. Her head snapped toward it, and she took a step forward. “Is someone in there?” she asked, her tone shifting from playful to accusatory.

“No!” Y/n said quickly, stepping between her and the closet. “I mean… probably just the wind or something. Old building, you know? Drafty.” He laughed nervously, scratching the back of his neck. Sweat was definitely forming now.

Yujin raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. She crossed her arms, tilting her head as she studied him. “Y/n-oppa,” she began, her voice sweet but laced with mischief, “are you hiding something from me?”

Before he could answer, the closet door burst open, and Wonyoung stepped out, her hair slightly disheveled but her expression defiant. “Yes, he is,” she declared, folding her arms over her chest. “And before you get all worked up, Yujin-unnie, it’s not what you think.”

Yujin’s jaw dropped, her eyes widening as she looked between Wonyoung and Y/n. “Excuse me? Not what I think?” she repeated, her voice rising. “You were in his closet, smelling like his bedsheets, and—”

“Enough!” Y/n interrupted, raising both hands to silence them. His voice carried a firmness that surprised even himself, and both girls stopped mid-sentence, staring at him. He took a deep breath, lowering his voice. “Look, this isn’t helping anyone. We’re a team, right? So let’s not turn this into some dramatic scene.”

Wonyoung pouted, her lower lip jutting out as she glanced at Yujin. “She started it,” she muttered under her breath.

Yujin scoffed, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “I started it? You’re the one who—”

“Stop,” Y/n said again, softer this time but no less commanding. He stepped between them, placing a hand on each of their shoulders. “Listen. I… I care about both of you. A lot. And if we’re going to make this work, we need to be honest with each other. No secrets, no jealousy. Just… trust.”

For a moment, the room was silent, save for the sound of their breathing. Then, Yujin let out a small huff, her lips curving into a reluctant smile. “Fine,” she said, though her eyes still flashed with a hint of challenge. “But you owe me coffee after this.”

Wonyoung rolled her eyes but nodded. “And me too,” she added, smirking at Y/n. “Maybe even breakfast.”

Y/n let out a relieved laugh, feeling some of the tension drain from his shoulders. “Deal,” he said, grinning despite himself. If only it could always be this easy, he thought, though he knew better than to hope for smooth sailing.

Later that afternoon, the group gathered in the practice room for another grueling session. Winter had been unusually quiet throughout the day, her sharp eyes watching Y/n with an intensity that made him uneasy. She sat cross-legged on the floor, scrolling through her phone, but every so often, her gaze would flicker up to meet his, holding it for just a second too long before she looked away.

Karina clapped her hands, calling everyone to attention. “Alright, let’s run through the choreography one more time. Focus on the transitions—they’re still a bit messy.”

The music started, and Y/n threw himself into the routine, trying to ignore the way Winter’s eyes seemed to burn into his back. By the time they finished, his muscles were screaming in protest, and his shirt clung to his skin with sweat. He collapsed onto the floor, leaning against the mirrored wall as he caught his breath.

Just as he closed his eyes, he felt a presence beside him. He opened them to find Wonyoung crouching down, her face glowing with exertion but her smile bright. “Oppa,” she said, her voice soft, “will you come shopping with me later? I need to pick up some clothes for everyone, and I could use your opinion.”

Y/n hesitated, glancing around the room. Karina was deep in conversation with Chaewon, and Yujin was stretching nearby, her eyes darting toward them periodically. Winter was still watching him, her expression unreadable. “Sure,” he said finally, forcing a smile. “Let me just clean up first.”

As he stood, he caught Yujin’s eye. She gave him a small nod, though her lips were pressed into a thin line. He could tell she wasn’t happy about it, but she didn’t say anything. One problem at a time, he told himself.

An hour later, Y/n found himself in Wonyoung’s room, sitting awkwardly on the edge of her bed as she rummaged through her closet. “So, what do you think of this?” she asked, holding up a vibrant pink dress that shimmered under the light.

“It’s… um, nice,” Y/n said, unsure of how else to respond. “Very… eye-catching.”

Wonyoung giggled, setting the dress aside and turning to face him. Her expression softened, her eyes locking onto his. “You’re really cute when you’re nervous,” she said, taking a step closer.

Before he could react, she was straddling him, her hands gripping his shoulders as she pressed her lips to his. Y/n’s brain short-circuited, his body instinctively responding as her tongue slipped into his mouth. He reached up, tangling his fingers in her hair as she deepened the kiss, her nails digging into his skin.

“W-Wonyoung,” he gasped when she broke away to trail kisses down his neck, her teeth grazing his collarbone. “We shouldn’t—”

“Shh,” she whispered, her voice husky with desire. “Don’t think. Just feel.”

Her hands moved to the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head before tossing it aside. His breath hitched as she ran her fingers over his chest, her touch sending sparks through his body. She leaned down, nipping at his skin before licking away the sting, her movements deliberate and slow.

“Wonyoung,” he moaned, his hands gripping her waist as she shifted above him. She smirked, reaching behind her to unclasp her bra, letting it fall to the floor before grabbing his hands and placing them on her bare skin. “Touch me,” she breathed, grinding against him.

He obeyed, his fingers tracing the curve of her hips before sliding up to cup her breasts. She let out a breathy sigh, arching into his touch as she rolled her hips against his growing hardness. “You’re mine right now,” she murmured, her voice dripping with possessiveness as she leaned down to claim his lips once more.

Her fingers fumbled with the button of his pants, yanking them down along with his boxers. She pulled back just enough to kick off her own shorts and panties, her eyes dark with hunger as she positioned herself above him. “Ready?” she teased, her voice trembling with anticipation.

Y/n nodded, his breath coming in shallow gasps as she lowered herself onto him, her tight warmth engulfing him completely. She let out a low moan, her nails raking down his chest as she began to move, her pace slow and deliberate at first, then increasingly frantic. Her head fell back, her hair cascading over her shoulders as she rode him, her cries of pleasure echoing through the room.

“Faster,” she begged, her voice breaking as she gripped his shoulders for leverage. Y/n obliged, thrusting upward to meet her movements, their rhythm falling into sync as the heat between them built to a fever pitch. Wonyoung’s moans grew louder, more desperate, until she shuddered above him, her body tightening as waves of pleasure overtook her.

Y/n followed soon after, his release spilling inside her as she collapsed onto his chest, her breath coming in ragged gasps. For a moment, they lay there, tangled together and soaked in sweat, the world outside forgotten.

“Well,” Wonyoung said after a while, her voice teasing as she propped herself up to look at him, “that was fun.”

Y/n blinked up at her, his mind still reeling. “Yeah,” he managed, his voice hoarse. “Fun.”

Wonyoung’s lips curved into a sly smile as she leaned down, her breath warm against his ear. “You think we’re done?” she whispered, her voice dripping with mischief. Her fingers traced lazy circles on his chest, sending shivers down his spine. “I’m just getting started.”

Y/n’s eyes widened, but before he could respond, Wonyoung shifted her weight, straddling him again. Her hands slid down his torso, nails lightly scratching his skin, and he hissed at the sensation. She laughed softly, her voice low and sultry. “Don’t tell me you’re already tired, Y/n. I thought you had more stamina than this.”

His body tensed under her teasing, a mix of exhaustion and desire warring within him. But the way she looked at him—her dark eyes glinting with playful challenge—was enough to reignite the fire in his veins. He reached up, tangling his fingers in her hair, and pulled her closer until their lips were almost touching. “Careful what you wish for,” he murmured, his voice rough.

Wonyoung smirked, clearly enjoying the game. “Oh, I’m counting on it,” she purred before capturing his mouth in another deep kiss. Her hips rolled against his, and he groaned into her mouth, his hands gripping her waist tightly. The heat between them was undeniable, their bodies moving together with a rhythm that felt both natural and desperate.

Their second round was slower but no less intense, each touch and movement deliberate. Wonyoung’s moans were softer now, more intimate, as if she was savoring every moment. Y/n’s hands explored every inch of her, memorizing the feel of her skin beneath his fingertips. It was intoxicating, overwhelming, and yet not enough. They clung to each other, chasing the high of their connection, unwilling to let go.

When they finally collapsed onto the bed, breathless and sweaty, Wonyoung let out a contented sigh. “Okay,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “Maybe I underestimated you.”

Y/n chuckled, though it came out more like a groan. “Glad to hear it.”

They lay there for a while, catching their breath, until Wonyoung sat up, stretching languidly. “We should probably get dressed,” she said, glancing around the room. “Before someone else decides to barge in unannounced.”

Y/n nodded, reluctantly sitting up as well. They gathered their clothes, the air between them still charged with the remnants of what had just happened. As they dressed, Wonyoung shot him a mischievous grin. “Just so you know, this doesn’t mean I’m going to stop teasing you.”

He raised an eyebrow, half amused, half wary. “Noted.”

By the time they emerged from her room, the rest of the group was bustling about, preparing for the day ahead. Karina was the first to notice them, her sharp eyes flickering between Y/n and Wonyoung as they approached. She opened her mouth as if to say something, then seemed to think better of it, instead offering a small nod of acknowledgment.

“Thanks for helping Wonyoung with… whatever it was you two were doing,” Winter chimed in, her tone light but her gaze piercing. She stepped closer to Y/n, her hand brushing against his cheek in a gesture that felt far too familiar. “You’re always so… accommodating.”

Y/n stiffened, acutely aware of Karina watching them. But before he could respond, Wonyoung cut in, her voice sweet but laced with subtle warning. “Isn’t he just? We’re lucky to have him.”

Winter smirked, clearly enjoying the tension she was creating. “Indeed.”

The conversation shifted to mundane topics after that, but the underlying unease lingered. Y/n felt Karina’s eyes on him throughout, her gaze soft yet tinged with something deeper—something he couldn’t quite place. When she finally approached him, her touch was tentative as she took his arm, her fingers gently caressing his bicep.

“Thank you, Y/n,” she said quietly, her voice filled with warmth. Her eyes met his, and for a moment, it felt like they were the only two people in the room. “For everything.”

Her words were simple, but the emotion behind them was anything but. Y/n’s heart ached with guilt and longing, but he forced himself to smile. “Of course. You don’t have to thank me.”

Karina hesitated, as if she wanted to say more, but then she seemed to catch herself. She coughed lightly, stepping back and breaking the spell. “Right. Well, we should all get ready. There’s still a lot to do today.”

The others nodded, exchanging glances that hinted at things left unsaid. Winter lingered for a moment longer, her fingers trailing along Y/n’s jawline before she finally turned away. “See you later,” she called over her shoulder, her tone dripping with promise.

As the group dispersed, Y/n exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of their collective attention pressing down on him. He needed a moment to breathe, to clear his head. A shower sounded perfect—just the thing to wash away the sweat and tension clinging to his skin.

He made his way to the bathroom, stripping off his clothes as soon as the door closed behind him. The water was hot, almost scalding, but it felt good against his skin. He stood under the spray, letting it wash away the lingering echoes of the morning’s events.

But just as he began to relax, he heard it—a soft, melodic humming coming from outside the bathroom door. His heart skipped a beat, and he quickly turned off the water, grabbing a towel to wrap around his waist. “Hello?” he called out, his voice hesitant.

The humming stopped, replaced by the sound of the doorknob turning. Before he could react, the door swung open, and Yujin stepped inside, her eyes widening in shock as she took in the sight of him—dripping wet, bare-chested, and very much naked from the waist down aside from the hastily wrapped towel.

“Y/n?!” she squeaked, her face turning bright red as she immediately spun around, covering her eyes with her hands. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I didn’t—”

Y/n froze, his mind racing as he tried to process what had just happened. “Yujin, wait—”

But she was already backing out of the bathroom, stumbling over her own feet in her haste to escape. “I-I’ll just—uh—”

The door slammed shut behind her, leaving Y/n standing there, stunned and utterly exposed. He stared at the closed door, his heart pounding in his chest as the reality of the situation sank in. This was not how he expected his day to go.

From the other side of the door, he could hear Yujin’s muffled voice, though her words were too faint to make out. Y/n groaned, running a hand through his wet hair. What was he supposed to do now?

The silence stretched on, thick and uncomfortable, until Y/n finally mustered the courage to call out, “Yujin?”

There was no response. He waited a few moments, then sighed. “I’m really sorry about that,” he said, though he wasn’t entirely sure who he was apologizing to—her or himself.

[russo-woso]

i was thinking maybe a fic or blurb of y/n and foxy where reader is a singer and wrote a song about emily (song being pov by ariana grande) and before she releases it she brings emily to the studio to get her opinion, purely because it’s about her and their love.. emily loves the song and just like a cute fluffy fic where they’re both just completely in love with eachother

It’s about me? || Emily Fox x reader

Masterlist

Summary You bring Emily to the studio to get her reaction about a song you’ve written about her

A/N this anon sent a follow up request asking for the song to be The alchemy not pov :)

“Baby, why are here? You’ve finished your album now.” Emily asked, the two of you in the car heading for the studio.

Emily was right, you had completely finished your upcoming album, but there was a specific reason why you were bringing her today.

There was one song that you desperately wanted to see her reaction on - The alchemy.

It was one of those songs where you had randomly come up with a beat, and the lyrics came naturally to you.

The song was based on someone, it was based on Emily.

You had been seeing Emily for seven months and to say you couldn’t be more in love was an understatement.

You had a reputation of writing break up songs, having gone through a few rough relationships in your time so you always assumed writing a love song would be hard, but it was the complete opposite.

Your mind was solely focused on Emily in the moments you were writing it and within twenty minutes, you had a fully complete song with a beat and lyrics.

That’s when your producer knew you were fully and madly in love with Emily.

“I’ve got a surprise for you.” You responded to Emily, sending her a playful smile as she groaned.

“I wanna know now.”

“Baby, it’s a surprise. I’m not telling you. We’ll be there in five minutes anyway.”

—

“There’s one more song.” You announced to Emily as she grinned.

You got up and inside the booth, getting the microphone ready.

“I’m gonna sing it live for you.”

“Is this my surprise?”

“Maybe.” You said, sending her a wink as your producer pressed the play button for the background music.

You sang the song perfectly, watching Emily’s face carefully as the realisation that it was about her set in.

“What did you think about that one?”

“Baby…” Emily began, your body filling with dread.

Maybe it was too soon to make a song about her.

Did she not like it?

“I don’t have to put it in the album if you don’t—”

“—No, baby, no. I loved it. I love you. It was perfect.” Emily reassured you, pressing soft kisses to your lips. “You’re perfect.”

“So are you, Em. I mean a girl has to be perfect for me to write a song about her.” You joked, wrapping your arm around her waist.

“I’m that special, huh?”

“So so special.”

[yearningandstillnotlearning]

𝑺𝑻𝑨𝒀 𝑺𝑶𝑭𝑻,

𝑮𝑬𝑻 𝑬𝑨𝑻𝑬𝑵.

A/N: okay bear with me, this is a ‘poem’ (i don’t know what else to call it) that i wrote and when i read over it i realised some girls here would appreciate this imagery with their own infatuations, so whilst its not written like fan-fiction i felt generous enough to share it and i hope at least 1 of you will like it, best part is that you can picture any one of your favourite girls!!! Instead of a name i call the other character “Pretty”, so keep that in mind while reading, and again, this isn’t written like fan-fiction, but still i would appreciate it if you gave it a shot and told me what you think ♡

tags: lesbian only, think anyone!, femme!r, metaphors, suggestive, nsfw undertones but they are so slight and hidden beneath the wordplay that i can’t really count this as nsfw, sadomasochistic in a way, did i forget something? Let me know!

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · · ୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨ · · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

I don’t want a cottage, i don’t want a life in simplicity and independency. I want a castle, i want an abandoned mansion adorned by vines hugging it long after solitude fell cold and loveless upon its very walls.

I want to hear the floors creak with every step, i want to hear the tremble of the floors effortlessly mirror the tremble of her legs, i want to have her, Pretty, and i want to keep her on her toes. I want, behind her gaze, to be as unpredictable as the grass around the mansion, a neglected ring of hues of green. Tall, short, eaten, rotten.

I want to give her the world, and i want to make her spin in the middle of it, i want to give her everything and make her feel like in a moment she could have nothing.

I want to make her dizzy and i want to make her euphoric, i want to see her scared and i want to hold her close, be the one to comfort her, Pretty.

I want our clothes to dance against each other when the weather drops and i take her out on walks, on the endless garden we’ve named ‘our hearts’ that no matter how long it’s been there for, untouched, unloved, uncared for, it just never seems to end.

I want her to let me tear her cotton fabrics apart and off, torn by grinding teeth and claw-like nails, hungry like a centuries-old vampire, lifetimes of self control and respect disintegrated in the very same time span Pretty’s clothes get ripped. Carefully laboured fabric, soft as freshly laved hair, made with the selfish, miserable thought of this granting them extra bread on their dinner plate.

And she would, she would let me tear her apart in one shared gaze. She would let me hold her and scratch her open, she would let me wound her because she knows i’ll be the one to heal her up again. And she knows i’ll do it before she can build the thought of asking me to.

She would let me darken her vision under the noon sun, heating and blinding. She would let me bruise her neck, violet splats trailing down her body like a rosemary. She would let me reach her depths and spin them around, it’d be nothing new to her, as long as her world is intertwined with mine she’s always spinning, she’s always dizzy. She would let me cradle her head as i treat her like fresh meat in aching, starved hands, because i’ve done so another hundred times, and each one she only seems more unwilted than the last.

Because she knows she’ll get me back.

Because she plans on making my darkest nights luminous, and she knows i’ll let her. The story is always the same; she unwraps me like a one-of-a-kind royal heirloom, her touches vigilant, precise on what she unfolds, what lies beneath her hands. And she knows i don’t fancy peace, her words forming clear juxtaposition to her touches, there are no blurred lines, my sense of touch and my sense of hearing are in two completely different words, and yet they co-exist in the pits of my stomach.

But like every child asking their parent to tell them a bedtime story, it doesn’t matter if its always the same, they always enjoy it the same. At the end of the day they fall asleep to it every time.

I’ll let her unwrap the lace off the corset, i’ll let her loosen every layer, watch the silks fall off my form, i’ll let her tell me the harshest things that leave my throat closing in on itself, as her hands soothe around my flesh getting me to ease up. She’ll rock me back and forth from being velvety to being cruel, i know it, and i will let her.

Because it takes two to dance, if you’re unable to match the other’s rhythm what’s the fun? It’s only enjoyable when you’re both having fun. 🫀

[sugarplumfairy777]

𓂃⋆.˚ ۫ ꣑ৎ a short n’ sweet guide on how to induce the void state ft. hachi

—————————————————————————

meet hachi a young girl who one day stumbles on how to induce pure consciousness. this is her journey:

day 1:

hachi spends her first day scrolling through some of her favorite bloggers posts; a little bit after she scrolls through “#void state” and “#pure consciousness” after a few minutes she comes across a post that reminds her of her power and how she can induce the void state like literally R I G H T N O W now hachi is ready and excited to induce pure consciousness, so she lays down and goes through a flow of instructions and BOOM she is now and her most natural and pure form, which some know as pure consciousness, the void state, I am state, or whatever you wanna call it. now if you thought the following while reading hachi’s journey, you do not understand what it means to be god.

-if you thought that hachi’s journey sounds too fake or too unrealistic because she induced her purest form on the first day of finding out about it, you do not understand.

- if you feel bad now that your journey is longer than hachi’s you do not understand, it doesn’t matter if it’s been two weeks since you’ve been on your journey or if it’s been 4+ years it does not matter at all.

-if you thought of ANY limitations or had any doubt or thoughts of how you can still fail or even uttered “b-b-but that doesn’t make sense, that’s not pos—” yeah, uhm I’ll stop you there before you accidentally make a fool of yourself.

what are you talking about, “impossible” “unrealistic” “too hard” nothing is any of those words for you; a god. like seriously stop making my point fly across your head, YOU ARE GOD. period.

now for the curious people who are wondering, “what did hachi do to induce the void state so fast????”:

step 1: recognize your truth

𓂃⋆ the first step is realizing the most important truth: you are god. you are not a body, not a mind, not tied to any rules or limits. you are pure consciousness—infinite, powerful, limitless. there is no separation between you and the universe because you are the universe. everything flows from you. the void state isn’t something outside of you—it’s within you, always has been.

step 2: it’s already yours

𓂃⋆ the void isn’t something you need to “enter.” there’s no effort, no struggle. it’s instant. you are already there because you are it. time doesn’t exist in the void; it dissolves the moment you recognize your infinite nature. don’t overthink it. you don’t have to do anything special. the void is your natural state—limitless potential, pure being. just by knowing this, you’re already connected to it.

step 3: let go of limitations

𓂃⋆ close your eyes if you want, but know it’s not even necessary. all limits, all beliefs, all stories are illusions. they don’t define you. in this moment, drop everything that tells you who you are “supposed to be.” you are beyond all of that. realize the simplicity of it: there’s no need to fight or overcome anything. just let it go. you’re already infinite.

step 4: feel the stillness

𓂃⋆ once you let go of everything, there’s only stillness. this stillness is you. it’s not the absence of movement—it’s the presence of infinite potential. in this space, there’s no need to question, doubt, or analyze. you don’t need to “try” to reach the void, because you’re already embodying it. the moment you stop chasing it, you realize you were already there.

step 5: exist as pure consciousness

𓂃⋆ in the void, you are pure consciousness, untouched by the world, unshaped by time or space. you are everything and nothing at once. feel this—you are the creator of all, and yet, you are perfectly still. this state is simple, yet profound. you don’t have to do anything to maintain it. just be aware of your own infinite nature.

that’s it. the void state is effortless because you are it. there’s no process, no waiting, only instant realization that you are god, and everything is within your power. hachi did nothing but know her powerful and boom— she manifested her dream closet, her dream body, her dream boyfriend and her dream life in general. if she & so many others can—then so can you 🩷 it’s nothing that deep :p

note: the steps are not required duh anything and everything you do whilst holding the intention of inducing the void state is correct and guaranteed you are god so stop doubting. https://www.tumblr.com/sugarplumfairy777/772229618617991168/failure-doubt-limitations

[dear-aubade]

first of all I love your writing style 💔

second: can you make a drabble where Joel comforts reader during her cold or any kind of sickness, maybe even usual stomachache aand then they have soft cute gentle xex, and he whispers praises to her, soothing all of her aches, lyyy

- 🐿️

Awwe thank you for the kind words anon, I’m glad you like my work! Here you go!

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: You try to hide your sickness from Joel because you don’t want to stress him out. It doesn’t work.

Notes: Sick fic, praise kink, soft!dom!joel, sub!reader, sick!reader, reader is in her head a lot, unprotected p in v, reader is very much Joel’s baby, READER IS NOT PREGNANT SHE’S JUST NAUSEOUS

It was normal for you to be reserved. A little quieter than most, a little more soft. Joel knew you better than anybody, and he could tell when you’d slipped into your daydreams, just needing a few moments to drift off within your own head.

But this…this was different.

The day had started off as usual. You and Joel woke up together tangled in blankets, his strong arms holding you close. But the moment you blinked your bleary eyes awake you gave him a swift kiss and mumbled, “M’gonna go shower” before leaving him alone in bed.

Things only got stranger from there. That afternoon Joel was scheduled to leave for a short patrol with Tommy—lately there had been more Clicker sightings, so he and his brother had increased the amount of rotations needed per day. Joel didn’t want to leave you alone when he suspected something was wrong, but it was necessary for him to go if they wanted to keep Jackson a safe haven.

Normally when he was about to leave you’d get all teary-eyed and try to get as many kisses from him as you could before he took off. This time, however, you gave him a short smile and kissed his cheek. “I’ll see you when you get back.”

That sent Joel’s suspicion through the roof. He had studied your face, searching for any indication there might be something off. Your eyes were a little droopy, but he also knew that the night before you’d been up late with him reading to you…

“Is everything okay, baby?” he had asked softly.

Something flickered in your eyes and a little v appeared between your brow as it creased in confusion. “Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I don’t know, I’m just a little worried about you.”

At that, you gave him an innocent smile. “I’m just tired, Joel. I’m okay.” You stood on your tiptoes to press your lips to his in a soft peck. “I’ll be here when you get back.”

Against his better judgement, he’d left. But that didn’t stop him from worrying about you all throughout patrol.

You felt absolutely awful.

In the morning you’d woken with quite possibly the worst stomach ache you’d ever experienced. You thought a shower might make you feel better, that your body was just disagreeing with something you’d eaten the day before.

It got worse. It seemed that anything you did made the nausea flare up. All you wanted to do was be Joel’s princess for the day, to whine until he took you in his arms and hushed your cries with sweet words and sweeter kisses.

But he had patrol that day, and you didn’t want him to worry. You weren’t supposed to make him worry, you were supposed to be his good girl. You didn’t want him distracted—you knew he’d been stressed about the increased Clicker sightings and you didn’t want to add more to the burden he was already carrying.

And so you stayed silent about it. You smiled at him and sent him on his way, and finally, finally when you were alone, you snuggled up back in bed.

You were freezing. Even with the thick blankets piled on top of you, you still were shivering, and your stomach ache stayed constant. Even your mind began to fuzz to the point where you didn’t know how long it had been since Joel left. You stopped caring about the need to pretend everything was fine—you just wanted him.

You weren’t in the living room when Joel got back. Normally you’d be there waiting since it was the closest comfy place to the door, so the moment you heard the door open you could run and embrace him in a flurry of kisses.

But you weren’t there.

“Baby?” he called out, shutting the door behind him.

No response.

He frowned and took his shoes off, then shed his thick snow jacket and gloves. Beneath he was just wearing dark-washed jeans and his signature flannel.

In your room, all Joel saw was a lump beneath the thick gray comforter. “Darlin’?” Joel crossed the room and knelt beside the bed. Were you asleep? Did—

“Joel?” Your voice was strained, small. You rolled over and Joel’s stomach sank. Your eyes were hazy, your cheeks slightly flushed. Had you been crying?

“Sweetheart,” he whispered. “What’s wrong?”

He cupped your cheek and your bottom lip quivered for a moment before you burst into tears.

“Oh, baby.” He promptly stood and got into bed with you, pulling you into his arms. You were so much smaller than him, so easy to pick up and hold against him. “I gotcha. Shh,” he soothed.

You cried quietly into his chest as you clung to him while he smoothed back your hair and pressed gentle kisses to your head. His words were soft murmurs.

“It’s okay darlin’, I’m here now. S’alright….deep breaths sweetheart, can you do that for me? Can you—oh, good girl. That’s it, just keep taking deep breaths for me…”

Eventually your sobs quieted, though a tear still fell down your cheek every now and then. After a few more minutes of holding you, Joel spoke again.

“What’s wrong, honey?” he prompted. “Can you tell me what happened?”

You sniffled. “Just….” Your brow creased. “Jus’ don’t feel good.”

Joel hummed. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Didn’t want you to worry.” Your bottom lip trembled. “I didn’t want—“

“Hey, don’t start again,” he cooed softly, wiping away your tears with his thumb. “You don’t ever have to think that ever again, you hear? I like worrying about you. You’re my baby, ‘s my job to take care of you.”

He saw your reaction to that—lips parting, brows relaxing, eyes going a little doe like.

“You like hearin’ me say that?” he murmured, thumb gently caressing your cheekbone, catching another stray tear. “Like that I take care of you?”

You nodded, eyes big and wide.

Joel kissed your forehead. “You need me to distract you a little bit baby? Make all the bad feelings go away for awhile?”

“Mhmm.” Your little voice was breathless.

Joel chuckled. “Alright honey. You just keep laying there n’ lookin’ pretty—don’t gotta do any of the work.”

Your head had been fuzzy before because of the sickness, but it was nothing compared to now. When Joel talked to you like this, held you like this…it made everything around him grow foggy.

He slid his hand beneath the waistband of your sweatpants and his index finger started to tease your bud over your panties. You squirmed.

“Wigglin’ already baby? I haven’t even done anything yet.” You could hear the smile in Joel’s voice.

His fingers slid past your underwear to dip into your wetness. You whined and tucked your face into the crook of his neck, embarrassed at how slippery you were already.

Joel chuckled and held you tighter. “It’s okay, sweet girl. Nothing wrong with bein’ ready.”

You whimpered as his fingers circled the outside of your entrance. You shook your head at his teasing. “Want your cock,” you whined so sweetly in his ear. “I can take it, promise….just want you to make it all better.”

“Awe baby,” Joel crooned, pressing another kiss to your hair. “Okay. Just give me a sec…”

He shifted to pull down his pants and boxers and toss them to the side. He was already hard against your hip. Laying side-by-side, your chest to his, Joel slid his length past your folds.

Oh….you could have sworn you forgot about your aches and pains right in that moment. He made you feel so full. He was so big, so thick and warm….you could feel him all the way up in your tummy.

Joel let out a sigh that bordered on a groan. “You’re so perfect, sweetheart. So good…”

He started to rock his hips gently and you whimpered, burying your face into his chest.

He chuckled. “So shy, baby. That’s okay, you just sit there…don’t gotta worry about a single thing.”

One of your legs hooked over his hip as his pace sped up and you clung to him the whole way through. You felt so…so…oh, you feel him dragging along your walls so nicely. You were absolute putty in his arms—Joel always made you feel that way, always gave you such big feelings it made you feel too small to hold them all.

“So good, baby,” he cooed. “Such a good girl, taking me so well…just lay there and let me fill you up—oh, you’re so tight around me princess…”

You could feel it then, that big feeling. The one that made you whimper and whine, trying to hide your face more than it already was. “Joel…”

“It’s okay, just let it happen.” His pelvis was rubbing against your bundle of nerves oh so nicely it made you dizzy. “Let me feel you finish on my cock, darlin’, you’re so good for me, so good…”

Every coo and murmur only brought you higher. You let out another high-pitched whine as the feeling started to become too much, too tight too hot too everything, oh you were right there, you…

You cried out as you reached your peak and then fell over the edge. Joel held you the whole way through as you clenched around him and he spilled inside of you, murmuring praises the whole time.

“Good girl, good girl….my pretty baby, you’re doing so well, taking my cock in that pretty pussy of yours….that’s it sweetheart…”

He rocked his hips gently to help bring you down from your high, slowly decreasing his pace until he came to an eventual stop.

He held you in his arms, your body against his. You hummed contentedly and nuzzled at his neck.

Joel smiled. “Feel better, sweet girl?”

“Mmm.”

Joel chuckled. “I’ll take that as a yes.” He kissed your forehead. “Why don’t we get in the bath for a bit to clean up, and then I’ll make you some soup? Nothing that will be too harsh on your stomach.”

You blinked drowsily and nodded. “Mhmm. I’d like that.”

Yes, you’d like that very much indeed.

[charmed-asylum]

The award for god damn my mouth drop like a cartoon cat goes to SY but u know . I know he doesn’t beat around the bush. However, was I thinking he be like this . And shit I can say from experience and studies that a lot he doing goes right with it. I mean sad thing and it’s really not just one person to pin point who could of fix this besides Thor town folks and trailer trash mom ( now idk where she grew up but hey it’s not me but cliches) that could of help. It’s sad because for her case she probably isn’t a slut while Sy is crazy he just type that knows it but tries to be all wooo man I mean I’m not crazy I’m caring but if u ever mess with me then haha u be getting a dead cat in your mail box or a stalker for life but wooooooo I’m just caring and being a human . Shit pat on the back and you good is looking out a simple box of stuff is looking out non stop poof Sy there is not helping out it’s stalking but bc this town is so small folks won’t see it. Oh he lucky that town size of a city block.

“On pay day, you go down to cash your check then give most of it right back, parsing it out for your various expenses. At the end of it, you have even less than the month before. You don't get it. Thing's only seem to get worse; not just money, but your body” honey this statement so spot on huh one a check back in the day like your time period AU money u get paid can last a month or last time now it’s like a blink poof gone and your body lord I’m only in my 20s and the issues I’m having at my age blown minds.

Sy just always there and idk why but it’s big ( lord I’m drooling and have not finish this thought) well as a whole get always with the sneak attack shit I’m barley 5 foot and I still have issues . Bc I’m too short they turn around and still don’t see me I gotta jump be like Boo. Anyway still damn “. For a big man, he sure can sneak up on you. “ also going back to my girl you got yourself a lifetime 20/20 level stalker. Hahaha way you keep doing Thor I can’t “ It isn't his fault he reminds you of that spoiled deadbeat. “ I wonder still wonder because he hasn’t been front with her which I feel it coming feel it coming . ( still gonna be shock) but on the why he gave her a reason which I’m gonna point out in a second but can “ I don't like to carry 'round debts. Let me buy you one." be one I mean it be least crazy one . And if not does he pray on pregnant women because of well a lot tumblr taught me a lot about kinks but because how easy the target she or how her emotions not there or pregnancy brain. “ You really don't get this man. You're no longer so sure that Thor sent him to check up on you, not since your last interaction. In fact, the wingman seemed more spiteful of him than you” also that he was so close to Thor which questioned his character like so he mad bc what Thor did or he use Thor for some reason. Because in small time I can’t see some friends falling out so easy bc hello who else u got .

This again makes me feel bad for her because while Sy seems nice and it your name was the fluff you don’t ask for I be all aww so cute and romantic but no nothing ever good and sweet it’s an huh my leg said in a sponge bob character voice. Like never so simple and sweet but damn how bad I felt reading this “ You glance over and find Sy watching you as he stands in the queue. His gaze makes you want to wilt.. Not even Thor looked at you like that. Don't be silly. Sy is just being a dutiful guy, helping out the town slut in her time of need. You won't be duped. Not when you can hear your name being twisted on tongues at that very moment” and fact he open ( after 1st day seeing her) mention he read books about pregnancy. It makes her wall slowly start to crack. “ He suggested before he's been reading things about pregnancy. You just can't picture him with a copy of What To Expect When You're Expecting.”

HAAH I’m sure many mention this but lord can you imagine “ He returns with a black coffee and a rather colourful donut. They don't match. Bitter and sweet all at once. “ But no the way that he watches her even down to her fingers. Or what way her EYES 👀 may go. He’s watching her as if I only watching tho his pray but as if he I don’t know still in war zone, looking through his sniper or goggles, watching his enemy. But still huh I hate it the perfect crazy stalker but idk even talking to her not at her or down to her .

AND HE SO HONESTLY BLUNT like okay he playing a game of 1s and 00s and we doing tic tac toe. Still like , “ "Yes, I'd like to take care of you. And the little one, if you'll let me….. His eyes flick up to the ceiling and his cheek ticks as he gives the question genuine thought. When he looks at you again, his face is set, "because I want to." that to me feels ( because not 1st time) he thinking on how to say it like before with the honest but down play it. In away which is why I feel there more.

Called to Duty 4

Warnings: non/dubcon, pregnancy, abandonment, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Captain Syverson

Summary: You struggle to move on from the biggest mistake of your life but find it hard to forget among the whispers of a small town.

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

The bank is as ever anxiety inducing. On pay day, you go down to cash your check then give most of it right back, parsing it out for your various expenses. At the end of it, you have even less than the month before. You don't get it. Thing's only seem to get worse; not just money, but your body. Every day you wake up, you feel even more crummy than the last. 

Your hopes of a treat at the cafe are dashed. You give a longing look as you walk by and peer through the window. You can smell cinnamon and coffee. You're strict non-caffeinated, doctor's orders, but a decaf would be amazing with one of those cinnamon buns. Ugh, damn, why are you torturing yourself? 

You turn to continue down the street but barely dodge out of the way of another pedestrian. He makes sure you can't pass as he mirrors you, sidestepping to block your way. You sigh as you step back and look Sy in the face. For a big man, he sure can sneak up on you. 

"Hey," he flips up his dark sunglasses, "how're you feeling?" 

You stare up at him defiantly, not quite bold enough to glare. He hasn't done anything wrong, he's just persistent. It isn't his fault he reminds you of that spoiled deadbeat. Or that your emotions are volatile, one moment teary eyed, the next blazing hot with rage. 

"Fine, thanks for asking," you shrug, "Sy, I gotta--" 

"I owe you a cookie," he points to the cafe window at his shoulder. 

You blink. You remember the cracked shortbread. You forgot about that. The mention of the sugary treat makes your stomach growl and your mouth water. 

"No, you don't--" 

"I do," he insists, "I don't like to carry 'round debts. Let me buy you one." 

"I got it free," you say, "it's not a big deal." 

"It is to me," he counters, "I was heading in anyway." 

You stare at him. You really don't get this man. You're no longer so sure that Thor sent him to check up on you, not since your last interaction. In fact, the wingman seemed more spiteful of him than you. You look across the steeet to the pharmacy then back at him. The aromas wafting out with each swing of the door have you ravenous.  

"I can't stay long, I gotta work," you say. 

His cheeks twitch, as if he tamps back a smile before it can bloom, "after you." 

He gesture behind you to the door. You turn and lead the way. He reaches past you to open the door before you can and you enter ahead of him. The din within is lively and the air is warm from the crowd and the employees steaming out orders behind the counter. 

"Wanna find a seat?" He suggests, "you should rest." 

You open your mouth to argue but think better of it. You'd rather not stand in the clustered line. You nod and head off to claim the table by the window. There isn't much left. 

You pull out the chair and brace your back as you sit with a sigh. You glance over and find Sy watching you as he stands in the queue. His gaze makes you want to wilt, instead you turn your attention out the window. 

Not even Thor looked at you like that. Don't be silly. Sy is just being a dutiful guy, helping out the town slut in her time of need. You won't be duped. Not when you can hear your name being twisted on tongues at that very moment. 

You sit and wait, wring the strap of your small purse. You watch the street. If it wasn't for the people, Hammer Ford would be serene. 

A plate clinks in front of you and a porcelain mug as well. It isn't a cookie and you can smell the herbal tea's rosy flavour. You peer up at Sy as he gives an apologetic look. 

"Cookies are still baking so I got you a cinnamon bun," he says. 

"And tea?" You add. 

"Can't have one without the other," he says, "no coffee for you." 

"Yeah, I... I know." 

You could laugh. He suggested before he's been reading things about pregnancy. You just can't picture him with a copy of What To Expect When You're Expecting.  

"Thank you," you smile as best you can. 

"Gotta get mine, be back," he excuses himself and marches back to the counter. 

You look down at the gooey iced draped spiral. You really shouldn't. Not only accept his misspent generosity but indulge in the excess sugar. Yet your hormones won't let you resist. You can at least wait until he's sitting down. 

He returns with a black coffee and a rather colourful donut. They don't match. Bitter and sweet all at once. He sits and takes off his hat and sunglasses. 

You put your purse to the edge of the table and rest your hand on your stomach, doing your best to resist the animalistic need to tear apart the dessert. His eyes follow the movement and you quickly drop your arm. You don't even think when you do it, it's just a habit. 

"You-" he begins. 

"Wh--" you find your voice at the same time. 

You both stop, hesitant. He nods and gestures to you, lifting his cup as he watches you intently. That's new too. Thor never listened much, only talked a lot. Besides, you weren't exactly together for the conversation. 

"Sy," you clear your throat and sit forward as much as you can, "why are you following me around?" 

His brows form a vee, "I'm... it's not... I'm tryna help." 

"Okay, but why?" 

His eyes flick up to the ceiling and his cheek ticks as he gives the question genuine thought. When he looks at you again, his face is set, "because I want to." 

"You want to?" 

"Yes, I'd like to take care of you. And the little one, if you'll let me." 

You can't help your snort, "we hardly know each other." 

"Isn't for lack of trying," he taps his fingers on his mug. "Aren't ya gonna try the bun?" 

"I will," you assure him. He's trying to distract you and it's close to working. The cinnamon is driving you mad. "A baby is a lot of work and... I'm not your responsibility. I know Thor is your friend." 

"Was," he interjects.  

"Sure," you accept his decisive declaration, "but that doesn't mean you have to worry about his mistakes." 

"Mistakes? I don't think so," he says. 

"Well, it's not exactly planned," you scoff, "Sy, really I don't feel right about you doing so much." 

"Wouldn't feel right not doing it," he shrugs his burly shoulders. 

“But why?” You nearly exclaim. You just want to know why he cares so much, about you? 

He leans forward, elbows on the table, “they talk about me too, ya know? Since I got back from... serving. They say I’m f—crazy, or whatever. It wasn’t easy or nothin’ over there but I’m not nuts. Not like they say. Just like you’re not some slut, forgive me for saying it out loud.” 

You look down at the table and exhale. So he hears as much as anyone else about you. At least he’s honest. At least he isn’t joining them. You purse your lips and reach for the cinnamon bun, unable to restrain yourself any longer. 

“For what it’s worth,” you raise your eyes to meet his, “I never thought you were... unwell, or whatever they say.” 

His cheeks pinch, another suppressed smile, and he tilts his head, “I’m only happy to hear you think of me.” 

[suni-writings]

Take the pain away.

jude bellingham x fem!reader

wc: 2.2k

+18!! mdni

(content warning: unrequited feelings, cheating [unrelated to jude x reader], toxic relationship [also not jude x reader], smut, fingering, unprotected sex [have safe sex pls])

it's been a while since i wrote a jude smut, but you ask and i shall deliver. we have been waiting for this one. heavily inspired by "fuck the pain away (lost tapes 2022)" by tory lanez.

He was exhausted. Not because of football, not because of fame, but because of his best friend. Being physically exhausted was something he was used to — Jude could get rid of it in a few weeks if it resulted in some type of pain. Emotionally, however? He was clueless as to how to heal it, especially since time did nothing but deepen his feelings towards her. It messed up his head, his thoughts got foggy, and he seemed to act out of impulse whenever he was around her. Nothing could really stop him when she was next to him, and that was his doom.

Well, that and her boyfriend. Her hideous, stupid attempt of a man of a boyfriend, whom did nothing but make her feel bad and cheat on her. She wasn’t the girl Jude used to know anymore — the fierce one, who everyone would be scared to even look at her the wrong way. Somehow, that manipulator managed to get her undivided forgiveness every time. It was a never-ending cycle, one that was tearing his mind apart. He was always the one to rescue her, until that dumbass showed up again, promising to be different and acting like a prince for a week.

That night wasn’t any different. The moment his phone vibrated in his pocket and Jude saw who sent the message, he already knew what it was about. And, despite being tired, he still walked up to her house, because she had him at his mercy. He wanted nothing more than to see her okay again, to be her sunshine of her rainy days.

Even if for a single moment only.

She had left the door unlocked for him. Jude carefully got inside, taking a deep breath. He could hear her sobs coming from her room, which he carefully walked up to.

“Princess?” Jude called out softly.

Even in the darkness, he could see her hands coming to dry the tears in her eyes. She sat up, still sniffing, and he sat next to her. He caressed gently her face and wiped another tear.

“Wanna talk about it?” he asked quietly.

“What’s the point? You already know what happened. It’s what always happens.” She let out a humorless chuckle and sighed. “I’m sorry. I probably look like shit right now.’

Bellingham took a moment to look — more like admire — her face. Red glimmering eyes, puffy nose, the bite marks on her lip to avoid crying. She still looked breathtaking.

“You look like a mess, honey,” Jude smirked. “But still pretty as ever.”

She gave a small smile, that quickly turned into a grimace, and she looked at him.

“I feel so weak, Jude. I don’t know why I keep letting this happen, I don’t know why I’m so—” she stopped midsentence and laid in bed again, holding back her tears. He was next to her, supporting the weight of his body on his elbow. “Please, take this pain away. I can’t handle this anymore.”

He took a deep breath yet again. There’s not much he could do, and all his options sounded selfish; even if it was for her own good, it also benefited him. Like leaving that project of a man for once and all. He slowly took strands of her hair out of her face, gently outlining her cheek. He avoided looking at her lips, because he couldn’t do anything about it. Especially with her this vulnerable.

“I’m here, princess. What can I do for you?” Jude asked quietly, toying her hair between his fingers.

“Take the pain away.” She begged again and looked into his eyes.

She had no idea how much Jude wanted to do that.

“I can’t do that. I’m not him, I can’t fix his mistakes, but I can—” he bit his tongue when he realized he was about to say too much; to act selfishly, to prove her she could do better, to give her a taste of what she could have.

A few moments of silence fell between them and her eyes searched for his. She leaned closer, as if she got the hint. As if she wanted it too.

Jude could be her temporary relief, he didn’t care. If he could help, he would.

Who was he trying to fool? If he could have her in any way, he would.

“Fuck the pain away. I could fuck the pain away, baby.” He whispered as he looked at her in her beautiful, almost translucent nightgown. “An eye for an eye. Give him a taste of his own poison. You say the word, I’ll do it.”

She leaned even closer to him, her hand gently resting on his face as she caressed his cheek. She bit her lip, thinking. She was desperate, and Jude was right there for her.

If her boyfriend could do it, then so could she.

Without a second warning, to Jude’s surprise, her lips crashed into his, hastily seeking relief. When their tongues touched, she was in a frenzy, and everything started to get blurry.

All she could think was the way Jude kissed and bit her neck, the way his warm tongue descended to her collarbone and threatened to go even lower. The way she tugged, on Jude’s hair, not wanting the moment the moment to end, needing more of his kisses. Of his burning touch.

“Need to take this off, princess.” He muttered against her collarbone, holding the hem of her nightgown. She nodded and stood her arms up so he could easily remove it. “Making this all so easy for me.” He said once he saw her breasts and tossed the nightgown away, biting her nipple before gently sucking it while caressing the other with expertise.

She was already panting. In a single attempt, he brought his covered knee close to her core, and the damp in her panties was undeniable.

That only fueled his anger. That bastard had her and didn’t touch her properly.

His mouth left her breast and moved back to her neck, sucking and biting it while his hand descended to her core and she her back almost arched in anticipation; if he knew she was that touch deprived, he would’ve suggested that a long time ago.

With his hands underneath her underwear, he pressed two fingers against her clit and moved them slowly, pressuring further to see the way her chest rose, the way her cheeks flush and how her mouth opened, too scared to make a sound.

So, without warning, Jude inserted the two fingers inside her and moved them fast, curling them until he found the spot that made her back arch, and the room became filled with moans. He kissed her throat, his mouth vibrating with each moan that came out of her mouth. His movements were precise, fast, and with an urge to prove something that, before he could realize or properly enjoy what he was doing, her walls were closing against his fingers.

“Jude, I’m—” she tried to say, but he smirked against her skin and moved his fingers even harder.

“You’re what? Tell me, baby.” Jude teased her and her back arched. He felt his fingers hurt, but it didn’t matter. Not when she was coming undone in his hands.

“Jude—” she tried to warn again, and he kept moving his fingers, looking at her in the eyes. She struggled to keep them open, trying to keep eye contact.

“Is that everything you know how to say now? My name?” He hit the spot once again and smirked. “I could get used to that.”

Her walls fully clenched around his fingers, and she finally came, seeing stars behind her eyes and leaving a loud moan. It was something she had never experienced so strongly, and she didn’t know if it was because her boyfriend didn’t care about her pleasure or if it was because it was Jude. Maybe the answer was both.

“Fuck.” she muttered, panting. He just smirked, looking into her eyes and leaning away, putting his own fingers in his mouth to taste her.

“Now that’s a very—” his fingers left his mouth with a pop once he made sure to savor the taste. “—very good girl. And a delicious one, if I might add. Could taste you for fucking hours.”

Jude didn’t care if he still had his clothes on. He had a taste of hers, and nothing would stop him now.  If he already couldn’t stop himself before touching, the gods may as well punish him, and it wouldn’t be enough for him to stop.

He kissed her again, making her taste herself before lowering the kisses — from her mouth to the spot under her ear. From her neck to her collarbone. From the valley of her breasts to her stomach. The kisses only lowered. Before he could reach her panties once again, starving, she tugged on her hair.

“No.” She shook her head. “I’m too worked up for you to eat me out. Need more.”

He bit his lip and smirked. As much as he wanted to taste her, he wanted to be inside her. He took off his shirt in a swift move and she sat up, crawling closer to him to kiss him and bite his neck. He felt like his skin was on fire and the bulge on his sweatpants only got harder. He took a deep breath.

“You’re not helping, princess.” He sighed.

“Am I not?” Now it was her time to tease. She straddled him and sat right against his crotch, making him almost roll his eyes. “You should take those sweatpants off.” She said as her hands caressed his abdomen.

He quickly turned the position, now on top of her, and took his sweatpants off.

“Good enough for you, princess?” He whispered, leaning closer.

“Better if you took your underwear off.” She smirked.

“Brat.”

Instead of taking his underwear off, he took her panties off in one single move. A risky one, since he could’ve ripped it from how quickly he took it off. He lowered and admired for a moment.

“Such a pretty pussy. A shame you won’t let me eat you out.” He whispered as he looked at her core, gently touching her puffy clit once again. She was stretched, but not enough. He didn’t pay attention to that when he had his fingers inside her — he just wanted to see her pretty face coming.

“Jude.” She called him out with some urgency, and he sighed.

Maybe the gods couldn’t stop Jude, but she could.

He took his underwear off, only now realizing how painfully hard he was. She watched as his cock sprung out, rigid, leaking with too much precum. He bit his lip and put his hand around his cock, spreading the precum slowly. He knew how sensitive he was right now, and he had to hold it back for her. He lined his member with her entrance and slowly dipped inside her.

She moaned loudly and Jude could feel his breath stopping from how tight she was. He gave her some time to adjust to his size.

“This is too much.” She whined.

“Darling, I’m not even moving.” He replied. “Your boyfriend lacks even in that area? He’s truly useless.”

She would’ve chuckled if she wasn’t having a hard time with the way his cock filled her, the burning sensation from the stretch seeming unending.

“It hurts.”

Jude leaned close to her, their lips almost touching.

“It doesn’t, baby.” He thrusted one time, to make her more used to the movements. “I’m taking the pain away. Just feel me here. That’s all you have to do.” He pressed his hand against her belly and thrusted once again, earning a moan and feeling himself from how big he was.

She could do much better than her boyfriend. He wanted to be the much better.

He started properly moving, hard, fast, desperate for his own release as well. To prove her how much better she could be fucked if he was the one doing it. And each time he hit the spot, he could feel her walls clenching. His hand never left her belly, knowing how deep he was going into her. He couldn’t stop.

She wrapped her legs around his waist and held his hair as his movements became more frenetic, moans dripping from her mouth to his ear with anything he did. He moaned whenever she clenched too hard against him.

“You’re so fucking tight.” he muttered, panting, trying to keep the pace. It was taking all of his willpower to not just come already. She didn’t reply, of course. She was too busy scratching his back and moaning desperately.

His movements became more erratic, slower, and, when her walls clenched around him one last time, he spilled everything inside her and fell to her chest, trying to catch his breath.

“Jude?” She called him out once they could properly speak.

“Yeah?”

“Stay. For the night.” She pleaded softly, caressing his back that were marked by the painting her nails had done.

“I wasn’t planning to go anywhere else, princess.” He smiled at her.

Jude held her against his chest, as she peacefully slept. He leaned his chin on the top of her head and, once he was certain she was sleeping, he sighed.

“I can’t take the pain away because I’m not your man.” Jude whispered. “But I wish I was.”

[lvnleah]

breaking the news.

strap in for this little mini series! it’s four parts long and a new part will be put out every tuesday <33

bit of a short one as it’s only 1.4k

Beth and Viv always knew that they weren’t going to play at the same club forever but they never expected it to come as soon as it did. They’d both been called in to discuss their contracts for the following season. 

Beth’s went well and she decided to stay, she was happy where she was. Viv on the other hand wasn’t. They’d had a long conversation about it before the meetings. It was a long one once you were in bed. 

They talked for hours. They talked about where Viv would potentially go, how the living situation would be and most of all how it would affect you considering you were attached to both of them so much. 

After hours of talking, Beth and Viv sat in silence, both processing the weight of their conversation. Viv ran a hand through her hair. 

“I knew this day would come,” Beth finally said, her voice soft. “But I didn’t think it would be this soon.”

Viv nodded, her gaze focused on the floor. “Me neither. But Arsenal made it clear… they’re moving in a different direction. I can’t stay here if they don’t want me.” There was a heaviness in her words that Beth felt deep in her chest.

“I don’t want to hold you back,” Beth said gently, “I know you still have so much to give. It’s just… hard to imagine not having you here every day, for me and especially for Rory. She’s so used to us being together.”

Viv sighed, “I know. That’s what makes this even harder. I don’t want to confuse her, or make her feel like I’m leaving forever.”

Beth shook her head. “We’ll make it work. We’ll explain it to her in a way she’ll understand. We’re still a family, no matter where you are.”

Viv smiled at that, though her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “If I go to City like I’ve been offered already, I’ll be two hours away by train. I’ll come back every chance I get. And we’ll figure out something for the longer term. Maybe I can get a place closer to home.”

Beth nodded. “We’ll have to talk to Rory together, make sure she knows this will work.”

“Yeah,” Viv whispered, her thumb tracing circles on Beth’s hand. “It’s just… I hate that I’m the one leaving. I don’t want her to feel like I’m choosing football over her.”

Beth gave her a reassuring look. “She’s smart, like you. She’ll understand that you’re doing what you love. And we’ll always be here, waiting for you.”

They sat quietly for a moment, knowing that this was only the beginning of many hard conversations to come, but also determined to face them together.

A few days later, after a long training session, Beth and Viv found themselves in the locker room with a few of the Arsenal girls. The atmosphere was light, with the usual banter going around, but Beth could feel a tension sitting between her and Viv. They hadn’t yet told anyone outside of the staff about Viv’s move.

Leah plopped down on the bench next to Beth. “You alright? You’ve been a bit off lately.”

Beth forced a smile. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… a lot going on.” She glanced at Viv, who was lacing up her boots slowly, clearly deep in thought.

Leah followed her gaze and raised an eyebrow. “What’s going on with you two? You both look like you’ve got something on your mind. Are you splitting up?”

Beth sighed, her shoulders slumping. “No no…Viv’s leaving at the end of the season.”

The room went quiet for a second, and a couple of the other girls stopped their conversations, glancing over at Viv. Leah’s eyes widened, “What do you mean, ‘leaving’? As in… no, not Arsenal? Sure not.”

Beth nodded. “Arsenal’s not renewing her contract.”

Leah’s expression softened as she sat back, processing the news. “Bloody hell… that’s a lot to take in.”

Viv looked up, sensing the shift in the room, and gave a small nod. “It’s not like I want to leave, but it’s what’s happening. It’s not up to me anymore.”

Leah frowned. “And what about Rory? How’s she taking it?”

“We haven’t told her yet,” Beth admitted. “We’ve been talking about how to explain it in a way that doesn’t make her feel like Viv’s abandoning us.”

Leah sat quietly for a moment, then said, “You know, when Jordan left for Villa last year, I had the same worries with Buddy. Rory’s strong, and she’s got both of you. As long as she knows Viv isn’t going anywhere for good, she’ll adapt.”

Viv nodded, clearly appreciating Leah’s perspective. “I hate that I’m the one leaving, but I’m hoping we can keep things as normal as possible. I’ll come back as often as I can.”

Leah smiled softly. “You two have got this. And if you ever need help with Rory or even just someone to talk to, I’m here. You’re still part of the family, both of you are.”

A few months had passed since Beth and Viv’s conversation, and the end of the season was approaching quickly. The days felt shorter as they tried to prepare for what was coming, but the hardest part still had to happen—telling you.

Most people knew and somehow they’d managed to keep it all under wraps from you. They wanted to keep things as normal as possible for you and somehow they had. It was now the April and you still had no idea. 

One evening after dinner, Beth and Viv exchanged a look, silently agreeing that it was finally time to talk. They’d been putting it off, hoping to find the right moment, but there never seemed to be a perfect time.

You were sitting on the living room floor, playing with some of your toys, completely unaware of the serious conversation that was about to happen.

“Munchkin,” Beth said softly, sitting down next to you while Viv sat on the other side. “We need to talk to you about something important.”

You looked up, “What is it?” You asked, crawling onto Beth’s lap. 

Beth wrapped her arms around you, gently brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “You know how Mamma and I both play football, right?”

You nodded a proud smile on your face. “Yeah! You play for Arsenal!”

Beth chuckled softly. “Well, Mamma’s still going to play football, but she’s going to play for a different team next season.”

You tilted your head, trying to understand. “Not Arsenal?”

Viv cleared her throat, her voice gentle as she spoke. “No, sweetheart, not Arsenal. I’ll be playing for a different team. It’ll be a little further away so Mamma won’t be home all the time like I am now.”

You blinked, your little brows furrowing in confusion. “Why? I don’ want you to go. You stay here!”

You didn’t want Viv to move away, you were happy with how things were.

They were both with you all the time and you couldn’t imagine your life changing like that. 

Viv’s heart ached at the sadness in your voice, but she leaned in closer, pulling you onto her lap. “I know it sounds scary, but I’m not going anywhere for good. I’ll still come home as much as I can, and we’ll still see each other all the time.”

“But you won’t be here every day?” you asked, your voice small. “You won’t get to take me to school and tuck me in at night?”

Beth wrapped an arm around both of you, her voice soft and reassuring. “Mamma’s not leaving you, okay? She loves you so much. We’ll make sure you can visit her, and she’ll come back whenever she can. Nothing’s going to change between us, we’re still your family. We’ll even be able to stay with Mamma and have a sleepover!”

You looked up at Viv, tears starting to well in your eyes. “But I like it when ‘ou here every day. You stay?”

Viv swallowed hard, her heart breaking. “I wish I could, kleintje. Even though I’ll be playing for another team, I’ll always come back. You’ll never be without me, I promise.”

Beth wiped away one of your tears with her thumb. “It’s going to be different, but you’re going to be okay, and we’ll be right here with you.”

You sniffled, cuddling into Viv’s chest. “Okay,” you whispered, your voice still wobbly. “But you have to promise you come back lots. With chocolate!”

Viv kissed the top of your head, her voice thick with emotion. “I promise. With chocolate, as much as I can.”

Beth kissed your cheek too, and together, the three of you sat in a quiet moment, holding onto each other as you began to understand the change that was coming. It was hard, but you knew that no matter what, your Mamma and Mummy loved you, and that love wasn’t going anywhere.

[seulszn]

No. 1 Party Anthem

Guitarist Vi x Reader

Warning: suicide.

A/N: This fic is based off the song No. 1 Party Anthem by the Arctic Monkeys. This fic is 5k words and I wanted to be longer but I decided to make it two parts

PT2

Life had become a shadow of what it once was. The bright future you had imagined, once bursting with promise, now felt unreachable, like a fading mirage in the distance. Each day was heavier than the last, a relentless loop of arguments and expectations that crushed the little hope you had left. Your parents bickered over trivial matters, their words cutting deep, while school was no refuge. Teachers constantly reminded you of your failing grades and the looming threat of being held back. The walls of your existence seemed to close in tighter every day, suffocating and inescapable.

And now, here you were, standing on the edge of a bridge in the quiet dusk, tears streaming down your face. The evening sky was painted in serene hues of purple and orange, a stark contrast to the storm raging within you. The cold metal of the railing pressed into your hands as you leaned forward, feeling the pull of gravity. Below, the river shimmered in the fading light, its calm surface whispering promises of peace and escape.

Closing your eyes, you tried to shut it all out the pain, the noise, the endless cycle of despair. For a fleeting moment, memories of happier times surfaced, unbidden but vivid. Your mother’s laughter as she spun you around the living room. The carefree joy of summer days with friends, running barefoot in the sand. The pride in your father’s eyes when you made him proud. These memories, once vibrant, now felt like they belonged to someone else, a life you could no longer reach.

As the tears fell harder, you leaned forward further, your grip on the railing loosening. The pull of the void below was stronger than ever. Just as you were about to let go, a voice broke through the silence, piercing through the darkness in your mind.

“Wait! Stop!”

You froze, your breath catching in your throat. The urgency in the voice sent a jolt through you, like lightning breaking through a storm. You turned slightly, startled, and saw a girl running toward you. Her red hair caught the fading light, and her wide eyes were filled with panic and determination.

“Don’t do it!” she cried, reaching out as she neared you. Without hesitation, she grabbed your arm, her grip firm yet gentle, as if afraid you might vanish if she let go.

The warmth of her touch and the raw emotion in her voice broke through the suffocating haze around you. For the first time in what felt like forever, the chaos in your mind quieted, just slightly. This stranger, someone who had appeared out of nowhere, seemed to care enough to stop you.

“Please,” she said, her voice trembling but steady. “You don’t have to do this. Just talk to me. Don’t let go.”

Her words, filled with desperation and compassion, held you in place. Tears blurred your vision as you hesitated, the weight of her plea grounding you in the moment. For a fleeting second, you wondered if perhaps you weren’t as alone as you thought.

The girl pulled you closer, her voice soft but insistent. “Please, trust me,” she said, her grip unwavering. You stared at her, anger and emptiness swirling inside you. A part of you hated her for intervening, for not letting you end it all, but another part of you lacked the strength to fight back.

Finally, with trembling legs, you stepped down from the ledge. She immediately wrapped her arms around you, holding you tightly in a hug that felt both foreign and comforting. Her embrace was warm, steady, and unyielding, and it shattered the dam inside you. The tears came freely now, an unstoppable torrent, and she simply held you, whispering soft, reassuring words as you cried into her shoulder.

When she pulled back, her hands cupped your tear-streaked face. Her thumbs brushed away the tears with a gentleness that made your chest ache. “Don’t cry, pretty girl,” she said with a soft smile that was both kind and a little shaky. Her words felt sincere, but you couldn’t help but wonder if she was just saying them to keep you from jumping.

“My name’s Vi,” she said after a moment, her gaze never leaving yours. “What’s yours?”

The silence lingered as she waited patiently, not pressuring you to respond. When you didn’t answer, she simply reached down for a large black case she had set aside and slung it over her shoulder. Then, she extended her hand toward you. “Let’s get you something to eat, yeah? How does that sound?”

Hesitantly, you placed your hand in hers, and she smiled a small, reassuring expression that felt almost contagious. “There’s a burger joint not far from here,” she continued, pulling you gently along. “It’s my favorite place. I was actually on my way there from guitar practice when I saw you. I’m really glad I did.”

You followed her silently, your thoughts spinning. Why had she done this? Why did she care? You were a nobody, weren’t you?

Vi led you to a small diner with a glowing neon sign that read *Burger Planet*. Inside, the atmosphere was cozy, filled with soft 90s rock music and walls adorned with posters of iconic musicians. It felt distinctly like her a blend of warmth and edge.

As you slid into a booth, a waiter approached, their face lighting up when they recognized Vi. “Oh my gosh, are you Vi? From Piltover Dreamers?” they squealed. Vi nodded with a polite smile, but her focus quickly shifted back to you. When the waiter assumed you were on a date and seemed put off, Vi dismissed it, quietly ordering food for both of you without pressuring you to speak.

When the waiter left, Vi turned back to you, her eyes soft but searching. “This place has the best onion rings,” she said casually, trying to ease the tension. “And their butterscotch milkshakes? Top tier.”

You barely heard her, your mind still trapped on that bridge, still replaying the moment over and over. The noise in your head was deafening. Vi must have noticed because she leaned forward, her voice gentle but firm. “Hey, look at me,” she said. When you couldn’t, she didn’t push. “I’m here,” she added softly. “You don’t have to say anything right now. Just… focus on the music and me. That’s all.”

The soft strum of a 90s rock song floated from the jukebox, and for the first time in what felt like forever, the world seemed just a little quieter.

When the food arrived, Vi dove in with enthusiasm, munching on her burger and onion rings without hesitation. You, on the other hand, sat motionless, staring at your plate. The hunger you should have felt was drowned out by the overwhelming emptiness that had consumed you. You didn’t reach for the food, instead poking at the onion rings absently.

Vi glanced at you mid-bite, a smudge of ketchup on the corner of her mouth. Her carefree expression softened when she noticed your hesitation, yet she said nothing at first, giving you space. The sight of her, so unbothered by her messy eating, tugged at something deep within you, and before you realized it, a faint smile crossed your lips—a smile so small it barely felt real, but it was the first in weeks.

Vi noticed immediately. “Hey, look at that,” she said with a grin, gesturing toward you with a fry in hand. “Progress.” Her tone was light, teasing, but kind.

When you didn’t respond, she tilted her head toward your untouched food. “Eat something,” she encouraged. “Trust me, you’ll feel a little better once you do.” When you didn’t move, she reached for her own burger and sliced it cleanly in half. Holding the smaller portion out to you, she added, “Here, try mine. It’s amazing.”

You stared at the offering, then up at the girl sitting across from you. Her expression was open, patient, and somehow reassuring. Reluctantly, you took the half she handed you and brought it to your mouth. You took the smallest bite possible, wary that anything more might make you nauseous. The taste was good, but it barely registered over the tight knot in your stomach.

Vi watched as you forced yourself to chew. “There you go,” she said softly, as though praising a fragile victory. She leaned back, her tone casual but probing. “Do you have a place to stay tonight? Maybe a friend or family member?”

The question hit you like a punch to the gut. You winced, your mind immediately going home to a place where your pain was dismissed as attention-seeking and your struggles as selfishness. Going back to your mother after this would be unbearable. Shaking your head, you looked down, avoiding Vi’s gaze.

She didn’t push for details, but her brows knitted together in concern. “Then stay with me tonight,” she offered.

Your head shot up in surprise. “You’re not a burden to me, if that’s what you're thinking ” she insisted, her voice steady and sure. “You can have my bed, and I’ll take the couch. Please. I just… I don’t want you to be alone tonight.”

Her words were so earnest, her plea so genuine, that for the first time in hours, the crushing weight on your chest felt just a little lighter.

Vi waved the waiter over, her casual confidence putting you at ease as she ordered two butterscotch milkshakes to go. “I’m so glad I don’t have practice tomorrow,” she said, pulling out her wallet and paying for the meal. “That means I can relax and hang out with you. We can make it a mini sleepover!” Her smile was radiant, her energy infectious as she grabbed the takeout bags containing your food and the shakes.

Vi stood from the table with ease, slinging her guitar case over her shoulder like it was a natural extension of herself. Her movements were confident and fluid, a sharp contrast to the cautious hesitance that seemed to weigh on you. She gave you a warm smile and motioned for you to follow.

Outside, the night air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of rain from earlier in the evening. The parking lot was quiet except for the occasional hum of passing cars. Vi led the way, her boots scuffing against the asphalt as she pointed ahead. “That’s my car over there,” she said, gesturing to a beat-up old sedan. The paint was chipped in places, but it had a certain charm that made it feel distinctly hers.

She clicked the key fob, and the car chirped as it unlocked. Without hesitation, Vi walked to the passenger side and opened the door for you, leaning on it with an easy grin. “After you, pretty,” she teased, her voice dripping with playful confidence.

Her words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you hesitated, unsure of how to respond. There was no malice in her tone, only a lightheartedness that felt... safe. Reluctantly, you climbed in, the faint trace of her cologne lingering in the air as she closed the door behind you with a firm but satisfying slam.

Vi jogged around to the driver’s side, her guitar case now safely resting in the backseat. Sliding into the driver’s seat, she started the car, and the engine rumbled to life. The radio flickered on immediately, filling the space with the familiar sound of the 90s-inspired rock song from the diner.

She adjusted the volume, turning it up just slightly as she glanced at you with a knowing grin. “Recognize this?” she asked, her hands steady on the wheel as she steered out of the parking lot. “This is one of my band’s songs. I’m the lead guitarist and singer, in case you were wondering.”

Her pride was evident, but it wasn’t boastful. She spoke as though she were sharing something deeply personal, a piece of herself she thought you might need to hear.

As the car glided through the streets, her voice softened, carrying that same effortless charm she’d shown all night. “We’ve got a tour coming up soon, so we’ve been practicing like crazy. It’s exhausting, but honestly? It’s worth it.” She glanced over at you again, her smile a little more reflective this time. “But tonight? I’m glad it’s just us. No bandmates, no rehearsals. Just you and me.”

The rhythm of the road beneath the tires and the melodic hum of her song created a tranquil atmosphere. For the first time in a long time, the world around you felt less suffocating, the weight on your chest a little lighter.

As the car slowed to a stop at a red light, you turned your gaze out the window. The city at night was both busy and serene, the glow of streetlights reflecting off the wet pavement. There was something oddly comforting about the way the world seemed to carry on, indifferent yet peaceful.

Vi’s hand moved tentatively, her fingers brushing your arm in a hesitant gesture of comfort. Her touch was warm but careful, as if afraid you might pull away. At first, you flinched, your body tensing instinctively as you looked at her.

Her eyes met yours, soft and full of unspoken understanding. “Sorry,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. She started to pull her hand back, but something in her expression stopped you from letting her retreat. Instead, you stayed still, allowing the gesture, the quiet reassurance it carried, to linger just a little longer.

Vi pulled her car into the underground garage of her apartment complex, the soft hum of the engine fading as she turned off the ignition. She looked over at you, her smile warm and inviting. “We’re here,” she said, her voice light with reassurance.

She stepped out of the car and quickly retrieved the takeout bags and milkshakes from the backseat. Then, in a small but thoughtful gesture, she walked around to the passenger side and opened your door for you. Her hand lingered near the edge, as if silently offering support you needed.

Once you stepped out, Vi led the way to the main entrance of the building. The sound of her boots echoed faintly in the quiet garage, while you padded silently behind her, your bare feet a sharp contrast to her confident strides. Reaching the door, she pulled a sleek key fob from her pocket and pressed it against the verification panel. A soft beep sounded, and the door clicked open.

The lobby was modern but understated, with clean lines and muted tones. Vi walked ahead, her pace steady but not rushed, glancing back every so often to make sure you were still with her. She stopped at the elevator and pressed the button, the soft glow of the panel illuminating her hand.

As the two of you waited, she broke the silence. “You’re very quiet,” she observed, her voice gentle and free of judgment.

The elevator doors slid open with a quiet chime, and Vi stepped inside, motioning for you to follow. You hesitated for just a moment before stepping in beside her. She pressed the button for her floor, then leaned back against the wall, her gaze falling on you once again.

“I’m not rushing you to talk,” she said softly, her tone laced with patience. “Take your time. Do it when you’re ready.”

Her words were comforting, but it was her expression that caught you off guard. She wasn’t just looking at you she was studying you, her eyes lingering on the details like they held some kind of meaning she was trying to piece together.

Her gaze drifted briefly to your dress, its soft, white fabric fluttering slightly with your movements. Then she noticed your feet, bare and vulnerable against the cold elevator floor. Guilt flickered across her face for a moment, and you saw her jaw tighten slightly, as though berating herself for not thinking to offer you her shoes earlier.

“Damn, I should have offered mine” she thought, though she didn’t say it aloud.

The elevator beeped, signaling that you’d reached her floor. The doors slid open, revealing a quiet hallway with soft lighting and neatly numbered doors. Vi stepped out first, turning slightly to make sure you followed. “This way,” she said, her voice still as steady and kind as before.

She led you down the hall to a door near the end, its surface slightly scuffed but otherwise unremarkable. Turning to you with a small, reassuring smile, she reached into her pocket. “We’re here,” she said, fishing out a keychain adorned with a few small trinkets a faded guitar pick, a miniature skull, and a rubber band wrapped around the metal loop. Finding the right key, she slid it into the lock with a practiced motion and turned it. The door clicked open, and she pushed it ajar before stepping back slightly.

“Go on in,” she said, gently urging you forward. You hesitated briefly before stepping inside, Vi following close behind and shutting the door softly behind her.

The first thing you noticed was the scent an earthy mix of lingering weed, faint traces of Axe body spray, and a subtle woody aroma that made the space feel strangely inviting. “Home sweet home,” Vi said with a quiet chuckle, dropping her bag onto the floor near the entrance.

As you stood there, your gaze wandered over the space. It wasn’t large, but every inch of it felt like an extension of her personality. Posters of various rock bands adorned the walls, some you recognized and others more obscure, their edges slightly curling with age. A tattered tapestry hung in one corner, its bold colors clashing beautifully with the muted tones of the room.

The furniture was mismatched but functional. A well-worn couch, covered in a patchwork of blankets, sat in the center of the room, facing an old coffee table cluttered with an ashtray, a few crumpled receipts, and a stray guitar pick. Nearby, an electric guitar rested against a small amp, both well-loved and scuffed from years of use.

A bookshelf stood against the far wall, filled with an eclectic mix of books, vinyl records, and random knick knacks everything from candles to small action figures.

A stack of Polaroids was pinned to a corkboard above the shelf, their faded colors hinting at memories Vi clearly held onto.

Vi watched you carefully as you took it all in. “Not much, but it’s mine,” she said, her voice tinged with pride. She bent down to unlace her boots, kicking them off near the door before walking toward the couch. “Make yourself at home,” she added.

You stood there, feeling out of place yet strangely welcomed. The room’s chaos felt oddly calming, as if the clutter and imperfections were an invitation to let go of the weight you’d been carrying.

Vi walked into the small kitchen, carrying the takeout bags with ease. The sound of rustling paper and containers opening briefly filled the quiet apartment as she put the food away in the fridge. A faint sigh escaped her lips before she turned back toward you, her steps unhurried as she made her way over to the couch.

She plopped down with a heavy exhale, her legs spreading apart in a comfortable manspread. Leaning forward, she rested her elbows on her knees and buried her hands in her hair. “Practice today was so fucking stressful,” she muttered, her voice low and tired, tinged with frustration.

You were still standing exactly where you had been when you walked in, unsure of where to go or what to do. The hesitation in your posture hadn’t gone unnoticed by Vi. She glanced up at you, the faintest smile tugging at her lips despite the exhaustion etched across her face.

“But you made it a lot better,” she said softly, her tone sincere. That small smile grew just a little as she raised a hand and patted the empty spot on the couch beside her. “Come on, sit with me,” she added, her voice coaxing yet patient.

You hesitated for a moment before finally taking a step forward. Your movements were slow and tentative, your mind still caught in the whirlwind of everything that had happened. When you reached the couch, Vi didn’t wait for you to decide—she reached out and gently grabbed your hands, pulling you down beside her with an ease that caught you off guard.

Once you were seated, her hands didn’t let go. Instead, she shifted her grip, cupping your face with a tenderness that felt foreign but oddly comforting. Her thumbs brushed against your cheeks as she tilted your head slightly, her rough palms warm against your skin.

“Stop your crying, pretty girl,” she murmured, her voice soft but firm. The nickname rolled off her tongue like it was second nature, carrying an unexpected kindness. “You’re too pretty to cry.”

Her thumbs brushed against your cheeks again, and it was only then that you realized tears were falling tears you hadn’t even noticed. Her touch was gentle, deliberate, as she wiped them away. You could feel her studying you, her gaze intense yet careful, as if she were trying to read a story in your eyes.

Her own eyes searched yours, scanning for something pain, fear, maybe even hope. The silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable; it felt like she was giving you the space to breathe, to exist in this moment without expectation. And for the first time in what felt like forever, you let yourself lean into someone else’s presence, even if just a little.

“I should get into something more comfortable. I think my sister left some of her stuff here,” Vi said, rising from the couch with a stretch, her movements easy and confident. She extended her hand to you, her fingers warm and firm as they closed gently around yours. Without a second thought, she pulled you up, guiding you down the hallway toward her bedroom.

When she opened the door, the room beyond was unmistakably Vi every corner of it seemed to speak her name. A large lesbian pride flag hung proudly above her bed, its bold colors standing out against the muted gray of the walls. The bed itself was neatly made, its dark comforter offset by a mess of colorful throw pillows that added a hint of playfulness to the otherwise moody aesthetic.

The unmistakable scent of weed hung in the air, earthy and slightly sharp, blending with the underlying warmth of sandalwood. A faint hint of jasmine floated just beneath it, like a ghost of something softer trying to peek through. The walls were a chaotic masterpiece, covered in posters of rock bands some vintage and weathered, others newer, their bold designs adding an edge of rebellion to the room.

String lights were strung haphazardly along the ceiling, their dim, golden glow casting soft shadows and giving the space a hazy, inviting vibe. The warm light reflected off the dark tones of the furniture. On the dresser, a few personal items hinted at her daily life: a scattering of rings and bracelets, a half-empty bottle of cologne, and a small stack of vinyl records. A leather jacket draped over the back of her desk chair looked well-worn, the kind of item someone like Vi probably wore everywhere.

She moved to her closet, opening the door with a soft creak and rummaging through the contents. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure she left some clothes here last time she crashed,” Vi said over her shoulder, her voice casual but tinged with a warmth that made you feel oddly at ease.

Turning back to you, she held up a soft-looking hoodie and a pair of joggers. “These should fit you,” she said, her tone light but caring. “They’re hers, but I promise she won’t mind.”

Vi placed the clothes on the bed before pulling her sweater over her head, revealing a black tank top beneath. She smirked as she caught you glancing around her room. “Not bad, huh? I mean, it’s not perfect, but it’s home,” she said, her voice tinged with a mix of pride and humility.

She grabbed a loose tee from her closet and turned her back to you as she changed, giving you space. The entire scene felt oddly intimate not in a pressured way, but in a way that made the air between you feel warm and safe.

Once she was done, she turned back to face you, running a hand through her short hair. “Feel free to get comfortable,” she said, gesturing to the clothes she’d set out. “And if you’re hungry or thirsty, just say the word. My place is your place now.” Her smile was small but genuine, the kind of expression that felt like a quiet promise of care.

Vi left the room with a soft smile, giving you the privacy to change. The moment the door clicked shut behind her, you stood still for a moment, looking at the clothes she had laid out for you. Slowly, you began to undress, each movement deliberate, your thoughts heavy with the weight of everything that had led you here the bridge, the quiet call of death, the desperate ache that had clung to you only hours ago. As the fabric of your clothes fell to the floor, you felt exposed in more ways than one, but the soft, comforting scent of Vi’s clothes helped ease the heaviness in your chest. The hoodie and sweatpants smelled like her, a mix of her perfume, a hint of weed, and something warm and familiar. The clothes wrapped around you like a protective shield, grounding you in the present, making you feel closer to her even as you wished for escape from the storm in your mind.

When you finally finished changing, you walked back into the living room, feeling oddly lighter in the borrowed clothes. There, you found Vi kneeling by the couch, making it into a makeshift bed for herself. She was methodical, adjusting the pillows and blankets, her movements easy and familiar. As you stepped into the room, she looked up, her expression softening.

“You look better, more comfortable,” Vi said, her voice warm and kind. She gave you a small but genuine smile, the first of the night that truly reached her eyes. You returned the smile, hesitant at first, but it felt good. It felt real.

Once she finished setting up the couch, she stood and made her way to the kitchen. You stayed where you were, a mixture of exhaustion and confusion swirling in your chest, unsure of what you needed but wanting to follow her. Vi returned with a glass of water in hand and gestured for you to follow her. She led you back to her bedroom, her presence so steady and calm that it helped settle your mind just a little.

She placed the water on the nightstand beside the bed and then gently pulled back the blankets, her movements deliberate and soothing. “There you go,” she said, her tone soft, almost like a reassurance. “Get some rest. I’ll be right outside if you need anything.”

You hesitated for a moment, staring at the bed, the darkness feeling too heavy without her presence. The thought of being alone with your thoughts again was suffocating, and before you knew it, you reached out, grabbing her arm as she turned to leave.

“Please don’t leave,” you whispered, your voice breaking as the tears spilled over. For the first time since meeting Vi, you allowed yourself to speak, to voice the raw desperation inside.

Vi stopped, looking down at you, her eyes filled with concern. “But don’t you need space?” she asked gently, her voice filled with uncertainty.

You shook your head quickly, the fear of being alone too great to bear. “No,” you pleaded, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t want to be alone. Please.”

Tears welled in your eyes, and Vi’s expression softened further. She knelt beside the bed, her gaze never leaving yours as she reached for the blankets, climbing into the bed next to you.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she said softly, her voice soothing as she lay down beside you. “I’m right here. You don’t have to be alone.”

The warmth of her body beside you was grounding, a lifeline in the darkness. Vi’s presence, steady and unwavering, helped to ease the fear that had been clinging to you for so long. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, you allowed yourself to close your eyes, not feeling entirely alone in the dark.

Vi sat quietly beside you, watching the rise and fall of your chest as you slept, your face softened in peaceful slumber. The weight of the day was still evident in your body how you had come into her life just hours ago, on the edge, ready to give up. Her heart ached as she thought of the turmoil that had led you here, of the darkness you had carried, and it made her wonder just how deep that pain ran. She had seen the tears, heard the silent cries for help, and despite the strength you tried to hide, she knew the depth of the struggle you faced.

She longed for you to open up to her, to allow yourself to trust her with the secrets you had buried so deep inside. She wanted you to know that you weren't alone, that she would stand by your side, no matter the darkness you felt. Vi could see it now, how exhausted you were from carrying the weight of it all. She could feel it in the way you had clung to her, desperate for connection, and she promised herself that she would not let you fall through the cracks, no matter how hard it got.

Her gaze lingered on you, the way you looked so fragile and yet so beautiful, and a wave of tenderness washed over her. Gently, she leaned down and placed a soft kiss on your forehead, her lips lingering for just a second longer than necessary. She wanted to remind you that you were cared for, that you mattered, that there was still hope.

With a small, quiet smile, she closed her eyes, her heart full of protective affection for you. She knew you were still fragile, still battling demons that no one could fully understand, but in that moment, she made a silent vow. No matter how long it took, she would be there.

Tags: @halle5s @otterluver05 I forgot who else wanted to be tagged but let me know if you wanna be tagged in part 2 orevwa :). Ⓒ︎ seulszn.

[trrenchertrash]

The initial tag is mine. The issue is that episode 7 is not about Ekko “learning to trust” an “ideal version of Powder.” It’s about Ekko being reminded who she is. It’s about him realizing that Jinx is still the girl he loves/trusts/remembers from when they were kids. That’s why we’re seeing him bond with AU Powder and that’s why we don’t need to see him do it again with Jinx, because the point is that she’s the same person.

You’re right that it doesn’t develop Jinx, but again, it’s not supposed to. Episode 7 is about Ekko and the way he sees/feels about Jinx. Jinx has been developed all season long and doesn’t need that time the way that Ekko, who has been missing for an entire arc, needs it.

The biggest problem with this argument is that the show does in fact give us everything we need to know about Jinx and what gives her the hope she needs to move on. She tells Vi, “there’s no good version of me,” and then Ekko shows up and tells her, in not so many words, yes there is and I met her. Vi tells Jinx “maybe we can rewrite your story” without understanding that it’s too late for Jinx to go back. Her only way out is to move forward by leaving her past behind, which is exactly what Ekko and Powder talk about in e7 and what Ekko passes along to Jinx in that key moment. He says it’s never too late to build something new, and that he learned that from “someone worth building it for.” Then we see Jinx look at the Z Drive and see her little signature monkeys in there and THAT’S when she changes her mind. We’re supposed to understand that she understands what Ekko is saying to her here and that the reason she finds the strength to move forward is because Ekko is presenting her with proof that what she said to Vi isn’t true. She was wrong about herself, and that’s what changes her mind. We don’t need to see them talk it out in detail and honestly I’m glad we don’t because in this case I think less is more. I can’t imagine anything they could’ve written into Ekko’s mouth that would’ve been more powerful than what we got and I don’t see how anything more they could’ve written wouldn’t have come across fanfictiony and cheap.

It’s one thing to say you wish we got to see more or that you would’ve liked to see more, it’s another thing to criticize the show because it didn’t cater specifically to your desires. There’s no flaw in the storytelling here.

S2 skipping over Jinx and Ekko bonding, rallying zaunites together, and both realizing they can built a new future, motivating them to fight for Zaun is the equivalent of taking s1 ep9 or arcane, keeping it the exact same, except the dinner party scene happens off-screen and we just cut to Jinx blowing up the council.

[rinhaler]

Tell Me Where The Piece Go, 'Cause I'm Lost

CHAPTER SUMMARY: all you and megumi do is argue. and he's happy to leave you to your own devices, but after he and Gojo have a few drinks together, Megumi's lips begin to loosen in regards to you.

boyfriend!yuuji itadori x f!reader x bully!megumi fushiguro

WARNINGS : 18+, drinking, pining, arguing, etc.

WORDS : 5k

notes : kinda obsessed with megumi here idk xo

       LAST CHAPTER ┊ MASTERLIST ┊ NEXT CHAPTER

—

Gojo pulls up outside of your house and you can barely bring yourself to even look at the place. The home you built with Yuuji. The memories that you shared there with him and the romance that has bloomed into something so beautiful. You’ve allowed Megumi Fushiguro, your bully, to defile the blossoms with a litany of weeds. Weeds you could no longer fight or get rid of. They’ve taken root and as Gojo’s words replay in your mind, you know those roots will continue to grow.

You hadn’t noticed Megumi has been staring at you through the rear-view mirror the whole journey. But his gaze is intently fixated on you when Gojo parks outside of your home. He's focusing on your facial features. He was trying his best to decipher what was going on in your mind and what your next move would be.

To his surprise, his eyes widen when you fling the car door open and rush up the stairs to your front door. The speed in which you leave the car makes Megumi’s jaw lower slightly, his mouth agape. He catches himself, though, after hearing Gojo clear his throat and realise what he's doing.

They both deduce from the way you're frantically searching for your keys that you're crying. Eyes filled with tears and causing the world around you to be nothing but a meaningless blur.

“You wanna go help her?” Gojo asks, almost too quietly. Megumi barely hears him, his words almost being beaten by the sounds of the birds tweeting in the trees.

“This is your fault, you know.” Megumi groans back in response, “For pushing her. Shoulda just dropped it, Gojo. You’re making a big deal out of nothing. Why are you tryna paint a picture of something that isn’t there?”

Gojo sucks air into his cheeks and puffs it back out of his pursed lips, a crass sound accompanying it. He pushes his little round shades up into his hair; his shimmering, worldly eyes boring into Megumi as he forces his surrogate son to stare into them. He’s searching, Megumi thinks, searching for a weak spot in his armour to point out any lies.

“Sure.” he smirks, leaning back into his seat and unbuckling his belt, “But that’s not what I asked. Are you gonna go help the poor girl? She even left her bags in the trunk.”

Megumi scowls, a quick ‘tch’ leaving his agitated lips before he steps out of the car. He slowly approaches you, your bag tossed to the ground whilst you sit on your doorstep curled up into a ball and crying. You don’t even notice him getting closer to you. One minute your world is an unclear smudge through your sodden lenses, the next moment you hear the chain of your purse rattle and a giant standing beside you rifling through it.

You wipe your tears away hurriedly, still not completely clearing them. From the low angle you’re sitting in, Megumi looks like a giant. He looks like Toji.

He tests a few keys in the hole before he finally finds the one that works, slotting it in perfectly and turning the handle. He pushes the door open for you, but walks in first. It’s not surprising that he doesn’t offer you a hand up. So soon after telling you he loves you in a drug induced stupor and he’s back to his old self.

You toss your keys onto the coffee table carelessly before crumpling down onto the couch. Megumi isn’t beside you, you didn’t even notice him in the kitchen when you walked by. You’re happy to never look at him again, if possible. But he emerges, eventually. A tall glass of water with a few ice cubes in his hand. He pushes a coaster from the coffee table closer to you and sets it down.

“Are you— uh… Do you need anything?” he asks, stammering over himself. He pinches the end of his nose again and again to scratch it as he waits for you to answer.

“You can’t even ask me, can you? Were you going to ask i-if I’m okay?” you question. His eyes go a little wide, but it’s barely perceptible to you. He pulls his lips into a straight line and grunts at the unintentionally rude question.

“I was. I decided I don’t care.” he replies defensively, and you can’t help but scoff.

“There it is. God. I’m such an idiot.” you tell him. You pull the sleeve of your jacket over your hand and dab the ball of your wrist into your eye as you try and dispel anymore tears eager to line your vision.

“There what is? Why would I care to ask when you’re obviously not okay? I don’t have a time machine, O’Keeffe, I can’t make last night go away. There’s nothing I can do. We did what we did so there’s no use fuckin’ crying over it.” he bites at you.

“Don’t you think I know that?” you raise your voice a little, your words getting caught in your throat as tears begin to stream down your cheeks and your lips swell from the pressure of your mouth pulling and stretching to allow you to sob loudly. “You’re so fucked up Megumi, you don’t even realise it. You’re beyond help.”

“Shut up. If you’re gonna turn to insults you know who’ll win. You’re already crying babe, won’t take much to push you over the edge.” he explains.

“What is wrong with you? Do you hear yourself?”

“You wanted me last night. You’ve got such a fucking victims mentality, that’s what I can’t stand about you. You’ve been a victim your whole life and now you’re turning on me because you regret what happened. Newsflash, I’m not thrilled about it either.” he informs you. You don’t respond right away, more interested in wiping away your tears for the time being.

“You can’t keep getting away with this…” you sigh, wiping your nose and sitting forward on the sofa as you consider your next words carefully. “There is something seriously wrong with you, Megumi. I’ve known you and your M.O. long enough now to know you wanted this to happen over the weekend.”

“Huh? Are you joking?”

“This would never have happened if you didn’t pressure me into doing coke!” you yell, breaking down into sobs as you linger on the memory a moment too long. “You convinced me and manipulated me into doing so many drugs I’m surprised I’m even alive to talk about it!”

“You’re so fucking dramatic!” he yells back at you, turning away to pace around the room and rake his fingers through his hair. “Look, this is only a big deal because you’re making it one. I’m not gonna say anything and Gojo won’t either. If you keep your big mouth shut—”

“You don’t get it,” you start, interrupting his strategy. “I am so in love with Yuuji. It’s unconditional and I don’t doubt for a minute that he loves me too. I’m not scared to be with him or worried he’s going to have a change of personality from one minute to the next like I do with you.”

“And?”

“And, I know he’d do anything and everything to make me happy. I know he wants to be with me forever… And I love him so much, Megumi.”

He grits his teeth and his face scrunches tensely as he registers what you’re telling him. But he knew that already. He knew all of that but he still can’t help the irritating feeling gnawing at his insides.

“What’s your point, O’Keeffe?”

“How am I meant to be with him for the rest of my life if I don’t tell him the truth?” you finish, lip wobbling and beginning to bawl into your sleeves again.

Megumi looks down at you like you’re nothing. Your tears and emotions mean nothing to him as he watches your heart shatter over the breakdown of your relationship. His lips are back to being in a tight line and his green eyes glower down at you. You’re not even looking at him and you can feel the way they are burning into you. He went against his better judgement to come in here and try to help you. And you repaid him by telling him how fucked up he is. He has no sympathy for you. None. Because last night, no matter what the circumstances were, you wanted him just as badly as he wanted you.

“I don’t care if you tell him. It’s you who’ll get dumped by the end of it, not me. Do what you want O’Keeffe.” he turns away to walk out of the door, but you can’t let him go like this. Like he’s won a game of chess rather than destroying your life.

“Megumi, wait.” you call to him. He stops in his tracks, and then finally turns to face you once more. “I— I shared my body with you last night, Megumi. I risked everything that makes me happy… for you.”

He sighs, looking down at the ground before looking back at you. You back away when you notice him getting closer to you. It’s slow, deliberately intimidating and you can’t bring yourself to move away quick enough. You remember standing upright one minute and then falling back down onto the couch the next. His body towering over you and caging you between his arms. Your faces so close to each other your noses almost touched.

“Said you were lonely, baby. Wanted me because you were missin’ Yuuji.” he tells you in hushed tones. The memory of your words comes rushing back as you relive the incident that has lead to the two of you being like this now. “Victims mentality. I had nothing to lose and I was horny, O’Keeffe. You wanted me, and you could have said no.”

“But I—”

“Use all the excuses you want, princess. You wanted me. And now, you’re playing the victim. Because now you realise what you’ve done, and that you’ve risked everything to have it. To have me.”

“Do you love me, Megumi? Last night—”

“Are you fucking serious?” he asks, a gruff and infuriated tone lacing his words. “Use the fucking internet and look up the effects of E. You are somethin’ else, really. I told you. I wanted to get off, and you didn’t want to be lonely.” he pulls away so quickly from you that he creates a breeze. The air makes your tear-soaked cheeks cold. Your loose hairs flow and follow him. Your eyes are lifeless. You can’t hide how dead inside you feel.

You risked your perfect relationship with Yuuji Itadori for a meaningless handjob with Megumi Fushiguro.

Your former, or maybe still current, bully.

He decides enough is enough, heading towards the front door and slamming it after himself. You hear the passenger side door slam quickly after, but you don’t hear the car pull away. You quickly take the opportunity to google the effects of ecstasy, curiosity getting the better of you. Although, you feel like you already have a good idea what it’s gonna say thanks to Megumi’s patronising response.

How you might feel: ‘loved up’

You are such a fool. You’re so embarrassed and you wish you’d never opened your mouth to ask such a stupid question.

Of course he doesn’t love you.

You don’t even want him to love you, but it at least would have given just cause for him to thrust all of this pain onto you. If he were jealous of Yuuji. If he was trying to break you up and wanted you for himself.

But, really, you could have been anyone. You were just… there. It was the right place and the right time for Megumi. But the wrong place and time for you.

There is a soft knock on the door and you jump to your feet. Gojo peers inside with a guilty looking smile, pushing the door open with his elbow to let himself in with your bags in tow.

“It’s just me.” he greets you.

You’re deflated once again, falling back into the sofa. But now, you’re done. You’re exhausted and you can’t take it anymore. You lie down and close your eyes. It might all be a bad dream. Maybe you can wake up and be in bed with Yuuji holding you close. You’d give anything to hear him whisper good morning to you right now. Anything at all to giggle and squirm as he begs to eat you out before you go to class.

“Is there anything I can do, sweetheart? Anything at all, you name it.” Gojo queries, hoping to coax you out of your depressive state.

“Please… just go.”

He sighs, placing down your bags and heading for the front door.

“You have my number. If you need anything please call. Even if it’s just a friendly ear.” he smiles. You look at him briefly before observing the way the ice cubes are moving in the drink that Megumi got you. Without another word, Gojo carefully closes the door behind him. And finally, finally, you hear the car pull away.

—

“Do you wanna—”

“No, Gojo, I don’t want to talk about it.” Megumi answers before his surrogate father can finish speaking. Gojo chuckles which irritates Megumi even more. “Stop laughing before I punch you.”

“I was actually going to ask if you’d like to go for a drink somewhere.”

Megumi’s body stiffens before exhaling a heavy sigh of relief. His cheeks are flushed pink with vague embarrassment and even he finds himself laughing a little. He nods, thinking the sound of something alcoholic sounds just fine.

“Leave the car at my place, I’ll ask my sister if she can take us.” Megumi insists. Gojo nods, agreeing with his idea. It definitely beats paying taxi fares.

Earlier, you mentioned Megumi being manipulative. And he isn’t ashamed to admit to himself that it’s true. He did manipulate you into doing drugs with him, but you did them nonetheless. And, somehow, manipulation is a skill of his that gets him through everyday life.

Like now, for instance.

Poor Tsumiki has been working all day, and she’s exhausted. But how could she deny her dear little brother a single thing in this life?

He barely walks in the door and he's already asking her to do things for him. She’s always so sweet and positive and it gets on Megumi’s fucking nerves.

And she can’t help but extend that kindness to Gojo when she sees him. She’s more than happy to drop her second father and beloved brother off wherever they need to go.

“Did you have fun on your trip, Megumi? I’m sorry I couldn’t get you.” Tsumiki breaks the silence in the car, eager to alleviate whatever tension is brewing inside.

“Not to worry, he was happy waiting for dad to pick him up. Weren’t you, Megumi?” Gojo grins in the backseat. Megumi cranes his neck to look back at him and scowl. “You know your brother, always finds a way to make fun for himself.”

“Is your classmate okay? Did they have fun? I felt so guilty when dad told me—”

“I’m fine. She’s fine. Drop it.”

Tsumiki feels her insides drop lower as she tries to determine whether she heard him right. She looks up into the rear-view mirror to meet Gojo’s eyes and then back to her brother.

“She? You were stranded with a girl?” she asks.

“Does it matter?” Megumi responds.

“Well, yeah! Kind of!” Tsumiki beams, doing her best to contain her excitement and be focused on the road. “I didn’t even know you made any friends at your new school, let alone a girl! And you shared a room with her? Oh my God!”

“Shut up. God I can’t fucking stand you, you’re so annoying.”

“Did you share a bed? Do you like her? Is she your girlfriend? Oh my God Megumi I’m so excited!”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Megumi bites at her loudly, stunning her a little and retreating back into herself.

“W-What?”

“You know I’ve brought girls home before. You’re acting like I’m a fucking virgin who’s never even talked to a girl before. This isn’t a big deal, at all. Why is everyone acting like it’s such a big fucking deal?” he complains, his heart rate increasing and his breathing becoming louder and heavier.

“No, I know. I’ve complained a fair few times about the racket you make when you bring girls over, I know you’re not a virgin. But… as far as I’m aware I don’t think you’ve ever been friends with a girl before. I’m sorry, I got excited.” Tsumiki apologises meekly. The car is silent, again. One beat too many to keep it from being awkward. But finally, Megumi speaks.

“We’re not friends. It just… happened. It’s complicated.”

“People say shit like that when they’re in denial, you know. ‘It’s complicated.’ I think little Megumi is in love, Tsumiki.” Gojo smiles widely, such a cheesy and aggravating smile that takes up the majority of his face.

“Gojo, I swear to fucking God.” Megumi grimaces.

“Wait…” Tsumiki thinks, turning a corner in the car. She’s almost gotten them to their destination, but now the cogs are whirring in her mind and she doesn’t want this conversation to be over. “It’s the girl I met not that long ago, isn’t it?” she wondered. Megumi raises an eyebrow, obviously confused.

“The one who’s friends with dad. Yuuji’s girlfriend. Was it her?” she asks again. Megumi forces his eyes closed, as much as he could before looking out of the window and nodding. “Oh! Well, I’m sorry for prying. I didn’t realise.”

She turns the car back on track and heads towards the bar they want to be taken to. Megumi’s brows furrow in confusion, though he doesn’t speak or look at her directly. Instead, he side eyes her. Trying to read her process that lead her to dropping the topic entirely. She parks outside of the bar, smiling gleefully at her brother.

“I should have known you were just taking care of your best friend’s girlfriend! You’re such a good boy Megumi, I’m so proud of you.” she tells him, pinching his cheek like an overly adoring mother. Megumi’s eyes flutter shut as she tries to shut her words out and prevent himself from smiling or laughing. My God, Tsumiki is such an idiot. Although, ‘taking care’ of you is one way of putting what happened.

“Oh sweetheart…” Gojo sighs. Tsumiki turns back to look at him, confusion taking over her features. She cocks her head, prompting him to continue, but he doesn’t. “Nothing, thank you for the ride. C’mon Megumi.”

—

You haven’t moved from the couch in hours.

Since Gojo left, in fact.

You’d decompose here if you could.

But your bladder gets the better of you. You take the opportunity to get up and lock the front door and then go to pee afterwards. It’s so dark, now. Your eyes are swollen and puffy and you decide you should probably take yourself to bed. With your phone in one hand and your fluffy blanket in the other, you carry yourself up the stairs and into the second bedroom.

You aren’t sure if smelling Yuuji’s scent in your main room downstairs will make you feel better or worse.

And while you’re struggling to function normally. While your heart is decaying and you are finding it difficult to even turn the TV on for some background noise; Gojo and Megumi are having the time of their lives.

Gojo is on his fifth bottle of beer whilst Megumi has lost count. They are laughing, joking around and making memories that brutal hangovers will help them forget the following day.

They’re playing pool. Another hidden skill of Megumi’s. As Gojo takes a shot and accidentally pots the white ball, they both burst into a fit a laughter. Megumi picks up the white when it rolls through the table and lines up a shot he thinks will be perfect. And even if it isn’t, he gets two shots.

“I love Tsumiki,” Gojo smiles, wiping away a tear. “I can’t quite believe she managed to talk herself out of her suspicions.”

“She’s an idiot.” Megumi reminds him, potting the striped 13 ball seamlessly. He stands upright and changes his position, searching for his next target. “Stop talking about it. I’m still pissed about your pathetic little comment in the car.” he alerts him. Gojo’s relaxed pose turns steadier and more serious.

“Comment?”

“Forget it.” he responds, potting another ball. Striped 9. Gojo wracks his brain as he tries to remember what he said in the car. Something bothersome enough to make his son hold a grudge.

“Ah.” it comes back to him, but decides nothing more needs to be said. Megumi rolls his eyes and takes another shot, this time missing and potting Gojo’s solid 7 ball. Fuck. “Careful now… Going to form a habit of touching other people’s things.” he smirks, leaning over the table to try and take a shot of his own.

Megumi snarls but keeps his mouth shut. Gojo whistles and orders another two beers for the pair of them, noticing Megumi trying to slurp the dregs from his bottle to no avail. During the wait for their drinks, Gojo makes one shot and misses another. Megumi grabs his bottle hastily and drains the contents almost too quick to register. His Adam’s apple bobs as he downs the liquid in less than thirty seconds, and then he orders another.

“I’m a little worried about you, kiddo.” Gojo tells him. Megumi shakes his head, taking his next shot.

“Don’t.”

“I haven’t seen you in— We haven’t talked for— You’re a son to me, Megumi. I’m allowed to worry.” he finishes, taking a small sip of his beer.

“What do you want from me? Huh? To call you dad? Will you drop this conversation if I call you dad?” he slurs, staggering a little as he works his way around the table. “Okay dad. What do you wanna talk about dad?”

Gojo sighs, taking a bigger drink before setting it down and leaning against the pool table.

“It’s alright,” Gojo smiles.

“This fucking chick. I’m sick of her. Everyone’s in my business, no one cared about me before she came along and now everyone won’t leave me the fuck alone.” he explains. Gojo nods, wanting to display that he’s listening to him.

“There have been a lot of big changes in your life, Megumi. You moved back home. Toji is back. And your situation with this girl is clearly a heavy burden on your shoulders.” Gojo speaks as he chalks up his pool cue.

“Don’t even mention that bastard. I hate him and I hate her.”

“Megumi, try not to bite my head off but… Would you consider going back to therapy?” Gojo wonders. Megumi shakes his head and scoffs.

“Didn’t like it. Fuckin’ useless.” he announces. “And an- another thing about O’Keeffe, she’s just so perfect. Not, like, I think she’s perfec- perfect. But she thinks she is. Like she can’t do anything wrong. I hate her, I fucking hate her.”

“What happened today? When I wasn’t there.” Gojo wonders. Megumi’s eyes roll over white and he somehow manages to make his next shot despite him being able to see three white balls instead of one.

“She just blamed me for everything. Said it was my fault we hooked up even though she was crying about being lonely. Like… I mean…”

“What?”

“Okay, okay. Maybe it’s my fault. I got her to get high with me and she’s never— I don’t think she’s done drugs before? Can’t remember. Anyway. She went along with it. And we were both just… handjobs are nice, right? Fun and feels nice and getting to cum with someone is—”

“Keep it down Megumi.” Gojo warns him.

“What? Look, I could have fucked her but getting jerked off was enough, y’know? It was just nice. It was just really fucking nice and I liked it and I thought she liked it too. But n-now she’s worried about Yuuji and she’s pissed at me but she wanted it. I came, she came, and I thought it was all good a-and fine but she’s being a cunt now... and I hate her.”

“Do you… like her, Megumi?” Gojo probes.

“Are you— are you deaf? I said I hate her, you aren’t listening to me. I hate her.”

“But you’re upset that she’s mad at you.”

“Y-Yeah, so? Thought we were gonna be frien- fine. And she’s just making a big fuckin’ deal out of it. I just don’t… I don’t get it. It was nice.” Megumi rambles. Gojo nods again, knowing the conversation would be better if they were both sober. He’s making mental notes though. Making sure to lock away the information to discuss with him another time. “Like— Like her, tch. Dumb ass. Never even thought… For a second anything like that would happen between us. Especially after we kissed at her parents place and—”

“Back. It. Up. Cowboy. You hooked up before this?” Gojo interrupts.

“I— not really. We kissed. I kissed her. Dunno why, just felt like it. But she slapped me ‘n I just thought it was funny. Made her cheat on Yuuji and started keepin’ s-secrets.”

“Megumi…” Gojo sighs. “You felt like kissing her.”

“Yeah.”

“And you wanted to make her keep secrets from Yuuji… Something to eat away at their relationship.” Gojo continues. Megumi hiccups and his eyes squint. His body sways and the only balance he has is the pool cue between his fists keeping him upright.

“R-Right, so?” Megumi responds. Gojo smiles, gritting his teeth and it appears he’s more pained than joyous. He shrugs his shoulders and doesn’t say another word, hoping even in his drunken state that Megumi will connect the dots. Megumi’s body relaxes. He goes limp and the pool cue drops out of his hands. He falls backwards into the wall behind him and slides down until he’s sitting on the sticky flooring. Gojo rushes to him, crouching down on one knee and trying to get Megumi’s attention. “Oh fuck. Oh G-God. Gojo, n-no.” he stammers, not looking at Gojo but through him.

“It’s okay, Megumi. I’ll get us a cab and get us home.”

“N-No. Gojo, it’s not fucking alright. I like her, don’t I? I fucking l-like O’Keeffe. No no no, this isn’t right.” Megumi wrestles with himself. Gojo helps him up with one of his sons arms around his shoulders and leads him outside into the fresh air. “Gojo I— I don’t— like her, do I?”

“I think you do, kid.” Gojo grins earnestly, happy to get an admission out of Megumi. “Maybe even more than that.”

“W-What?” Megumi wonders aloud, a twinge of fear intertwined with his drunken speech, “Gojo… Do I— Do I love her?” Megumi asks. Like he’s asking his genuine advice as if Gojo knows Megumi’s feelings better than he does. It’s probably true. Despite his feelings being his own, he can’t connect with them. He can’t connect with himself.

“It seems that way. Either you’re in love with her or you’re falling there, that’s my guess.” Gojo tells him.

Megumi begins to shiver as the cool night air attacks him. Gojo keeps him upright and tries to pass along his body warmth to him as they wait for a taxi to pull up and collect them. Neither of them can believe how dark it is. Light morning sky turned to a black abyss and somehow neither of them have eaten or slept. Megumi has done nothing but drink since seeing you and it all feels like the same long day that you hooked up and argued about it. And now, out of nowhere, he’s found out he has feelings for you. Actual feelings. The type that people write songs about. The type that could potentially make you happy rather than terrified.

He likes you.

He might even love you.

“Fuck.”

—

You left Netflix running when you finally got the TV on. Final Space has been paused for a while since you hadn’t been able to bring yourself to press continue watching when it was prompted. You’ve been staring at your phone for hours. Your thumb hovering over Gojo’s name as you debated sending him a message.

Over and over again you scrolled through all of your contacts. A variety of people stood out but none of them that you wanted to call. You still had the numbers of people you had fallen out with and no longer talked to. There was one thing you wanted to do; and that thing was to scream. You felt desperate to let it all out, but there wasn’t a soul you could confide in.

The one person you did call, Toji, still wasn’t answering his calls or texts. It worries you that he isn’t responding, it’s so unlike him. You even contemplated calling your mother. But after last time you couldn’t think of a worse thing to do. You don’t need to give your parents any more ammunition to disparage you from your relationship and get into your head about doing what they want.

So, Gojo is all you have. But maybe you should just go to sleep and try to forget everything that has happened. Wash the day away from you and imagine yourself somewhere far away. Wherever Yuuji is, perhaps. But you can’t lock your phone screen. All you can do is stare at Gojo’s name. Your thumb venturing closer and closer to the phone icon. It’s out of your hands, now. You need to call him. You need to talk to somebody.

But as you’re about to press the button, your entire screen is filled with an incoming call. It shocks you. For some reason your phone isn’t on silent so the garish ringtone slices through your body like knives. You’re lucky your phone is somehow still in your hand and not smashed against your bedroom wall. You’re so fucking lucky. Luckier than you could have imagined being today. You press the green phone button so fast and bring the speaker to your ear.

“Yuuji?”

—

© 2025 rinhaler

—

[honeyfarts666]

A Party Most Vile

Lucius Verus x OFC

Mutual non-con, Slavery, Breeding, Angst, Aftercare, Shame (please check out all the tags listed on Ao3 for full content warning)

Part 1 on Ao3 or tumblr New! Part 2 on Ao3 or under the cut ↓

Excerpt: “I am giving you this lovely, young thing,” Macrinus said slowly, “and you reject my gift. Is there something wrong with her, I don’t know about?”

Lucius shook his head. “No!” he shouted a bit too emphatically. It took a surprising amount of restraint for Lucius to resist rushing forward and tackling Macrinus. He was amazed by the fierce protectiveness he felt for Naevia. She was not bound to him and she was not his responsibility. But she had caught Macrinus’s notice because of him. He could not let anyone else get caught up in the mess of his revenge.

@okyeeaaahhhh @writersrash @buttermilktea11 Thank you guys so much for commenting on the last one!! I hope you enjoy!!

Lucius gritted his teeth as he was escorted down the hall to Macrinus’s chamber. He had been taken directly from practice, and his bare chest glistened with sweat. He was certain he stank terribly, but he disliked his master, so there was some small satisfaction to be had. Yet, the meeting loomed large in his mind. It was their first since the disgusting party he had been forced to perform at. Macrinus’s displeasure at his behavior had been obvious. Lucius prayed that this meeting would be about something else. Even a conversation about his true identity would be more welcome than reliving that nightmare.

Macrinus was at his writing desk when the guards brought Lucius in. “Leave us,” Macrinus ordered with a wave of his hand. The guards silently left them and the door was shut. Macrinus sat back in his chair and appraised Lucius as he had many times before. Sunshine streamed though the window behind him, illuminating him like a deity from some distant land. Silence sang between them. Perhaps Macrinus hoped Lucius would crack and finally speak freely. If so, Macrinus would have to try harder.

Finally, after a long moment, Macrinus said, “The slave girl at the party…”

Lucius’s heart dropped into his stomach. There went all his hopes of a short, easy conversation. Macrinus wanted something. And he wasn’t a man accustomed to being denied his desires. Lucius straightened his back and replied, “What of her?”

Macrinus stood and walked around his desk to stand a few paces in front of Lucius. He repressed a smile as he asked, “Did you know her before the party?”

Lucius furrowed his brow. He hadn’t expected that. “No,” he answered swiftly, “I had never seen her before that day.”

Macrinus raised one brow. “Really?” he asked incredulously. 

“Yes,” Lucius firmly answered. He didn’t understand what Macrinus was getting at, but the last thing he wanted was for Naevia to get in trouble because of him. Because he said something stupid or thoughtless. But it was the truth. He didn’t know her at all.

Macrinus leaned in slowly and asked, “Then why did you run away with her? Help me understand that, Lucius.”

Lucius stared into his master’s gleaming eyes. How could he possibly answer in a way that this savage man would understand? Certainly not the truth! The truth that, after the shame of fucking the girl in front of a crowd, all he wanted was to be alone with her. To get away from the staring eyes and cruel sneers. To touch her tenderly and let her know that he wasn’t a beast. That he hadn’t wanted any of it. 

Lucius shook his head and glanced up at Macrinus’s waiting face. He grimaced and gave the best answer he could think of, “She looks like my wife.”

Macrinus’s expression softened. “Your wife, she died during Acacius’s invasion?”

Lucius nodded in reply. 

Macrinus looked into Lucius’s face, studying him intently. Lucius tried to ignore it. He tried focusing on the floor, on the desk, the chair. But it was no use. Macrinus crowded his space, and Lucius was forced to look the older man in the eye. Suddenly, almost as an afterthought, Macrinus muttered, “You have the look of your grand-sire.” For the second time in as many minutes, Lucius was surprised. Macrinus smiled and took a step back to pick up his cup from the desk. “Although, that is to be expected when he is your grand-sire twice over,” Macrinus chuckled before taking a sip of wine.

Lucius gave Macrinus a darting look. “Twice over?” he asked cautiously.

“Ah!” Macrinus gave him a playfully pleased smile and leaned against the desk, “So, the rumors are true!”

“I don’t know what rumors you speak of,” Lucius replied, his features settling into a deep frown. 

Macrinus chuckled to himself and then spoke with a wicked gleam of spite in his eye, “That Commodus was your true sire.”

Lucius couldn’t restrain the scoff that fell from his lips. Of course, Macrinus would believe the worst tales he heard! The most vile rumors spread the fastest. But it was actually a relief to hear. If Macrinus believed that Commodus was his father, then he hadn’t overheard any of the conversation Lucius had with Lucilla. Macrinus knew nothing of the coup that Lucilla and Acacius were brewing. Nor the revelation of Lucius’s true father. Lucius had many complicated feelings about his mother. But he sent a silent prayer of thanks to all the gods he knew. She would be safe, as would her secrets.

Macrinus inclined his head towards Lucius. “Oh, come now!” he teased, “Tell me the truth!”

Lucius let out a short laugh and said, “I cannot tell you. I wasn’t there when it happened!”

Macrinus let out a boisterous laugh and said, “True, indeed! But you must know?”

Lucius gritted his teeth but stayed still. He didn’t trust himself. He knew his temper. And he was growing tired of Macrinus’s prying. He didn’t care what anyone believed about him! The whole world could believe he was an inbred bastard and he wouldn’t bat an eye. Let the vermin think whatever suits them. Lucius lifted his chin and said, “The only father I have ever known, was the man for who I was named.”

Macrinus let out a disappointed hum. He tapped his hand on the table and took another sip of his wine. Another unsettling smile crossed his face as he swept his hand toward the door. “I have a gift for you.”

Lucius didn’t think the sudden change of subject could be a good sign. And he certainly didn’t want anything from Macrinus. Even supposed gifts came with their price. 

Just then, a servant opened the door to the study and held it open for another to enter. Lucius’s eyes dilated and every last whips of air left his lungs as he saw her: Naevia. She looked much the same as she had upon their first meeting. She wore the simple garments of a slave and left her hair loose around her. As her eyes landed on his, he saw her take a shuddering breath. Clearly, she hadn’t expected to see him either. Lucius tried to remain composed. He tried to hide the tidal wave of emotion that ripped through him. But it was impossible. He felt his jaw twitch horribly before he managed to snap his mouth shut. Had Macrinus bought her? Or had she been his slave the whole time?

Once Naevia was inside, the servant left and shut the door behind him. Naevia jumped slightly at the harsh sound of heavy timber against metal. 

Macrinus gave Lucius a long glance and then burst into roarious laughter. Only at that terrible sound was Lucius finally able to tear his eyes from Naevia. Macrinus, still grinning broadly, said, “I have never seen a man look so bleak after being given a woman!”

Lucius didn’t dare look at Naevia again, even though he wanted to. He wanted to reassure her. But Macrinus would use anything he observed to his advantage. He had to show him that he didn’t care about her. “I have no need for her,” he announced in what he hoped was a steady voice. “You can put her back wherever she came from.”

The smile faded from Macrinus’s face. For the first time, he seemed annoyed. He set down his cup and approached Naevia. He ran his fingers through her hair and tugged on a curl. She repressed a shiver and held still. She was clearly afraid. Lucius could see it even before she looked up at him with her huge, brown eyes. “I am giving you this lovely, young thing,” Macrinus said slowly, “and you reject my gift. Is there something wrong with her, I don’t know about?”

Lucius shook his head. “No!” he shouted a bit too emphatically. It took a surprising amount of restraint for Lucius to resist rushing forward and tackling Macrinus. He was amazed by the fierce protectiveness he felt for Naevia. She was not bound to him and she was not his responsibility. But she had caught Macrinus’s notice because of him. He could not let anyone else get caught up in the mess of his revenge. 

Macrinus let go of Naevia’s hair, and she and Lucius breathed a sigh of relief. But it was short-lived. Macrinus crossed the room to stand in front of Lucius. “Give me a reason why?” he asked with evident impatience. 

Lucius was confident Macrinus had never experienced anything like the love that he and Arishat had shared. Nor anything as simple as the connection that had formed between him and Naevia. Macrinus would never understand. He was incapable! But Lucius had no other answer. So he spoke truthfully, “I have no desire for any except my wife.”

Naevia trembled at his confession. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her quiver and wrap her arms around her body. But there was little time for Lucius to notice it. Macrinus slammed his fist on his desk and shouted, “Your wife is dead!” Rage flashed through his features like a wildfire. But he quickly regained his composure. He breathed deeply and ran a steadying hand over his beard. As quickly as it had arrived, the rage left and the mask fell back into place. “In truth, I should have expected this from you,” he mused softly. After a moment of deathly silence, Macrinus turned back to Lucius. “Very well,” he said with a sudden confidence, “Since you will not take her as a gift, you’ll take her as a punishment.”

A deep dread pooled in Lucius’s stomach. He could guess Macrinus’s meaning, but he dared not even think it to himself. Macrinus gestured to a bright rug on the floor and said, “Lay her down there and fuck her.”

Lucius couldn’t restrain himself anymore. He could not play the part of the obedient slave. Not when his master was so needlessly cruel and foul. He let out a heavy sigh and said, “No.”

Macrinus cocked his head to one side. “You forget yourself, Hanno,” he mused with a barely perceptible fury. “You are not a soldier. You are not a free man. You are my property. My possession. I speak and you obey.”

Lucius gave his master a bitter smile. He had reached his limit. And he would bear no more. “No,” Lucius uttered again.

With a fluid motion, Macrinus pulled a dagger from somewhere in his robes. Lucius readied himself for a fight, but Macrinus didn’t approach him. Too late, Lucius realized that Macrinus reached for Naevia. Lucius started forward but froze as the point of the blade came to rest on Naevia’s throat. Macrinus used his other hand to wrap around her waist and hold her secure. In a steady voice, Macrinus said, “If you don’t want her, I’ll give her to my guards downstairs. I’m sure they would greatly enjoy a ripe, young thing such as her.” 

Naevia repressed a gasp and Lucius made a great effort not to look at her. He could feel every muscle in his body tightening with every passing second as he glared at Macrinus. The worst part was that he couldn’t understand why Macrinus went through such pains to torture him in such a twisted way. “Why?” he asked with bitter despair, “What do you gain from this?”

Lucius expected Macrinus to reply with a shout and a retort. Something to put him back in his place. Something that would remind him he was a slave now. But no such reply came. Instead, Macrinus gave him that twisted smile again. “It’s not what I gain,” he replied coyly, “But what you gain.” After a breath of anticipation, he continued, “An heir.” 

Lucius’s heart nearly stopped beating. He and Arishat had never considered having children. She always drank a special tea that prevented her from conceiving. Neither of them desired to bring a child into the world when the threat of war loomed so great. His feelings on the matter certainly hadn’t changed since losing his freedom. A child would mean only more pain and heartache. A child would only be a chain for Macrinus to bind him with. 

Before Lucius could formulate a response, Macrinus pulled his blade away from Naevia’s neck. “Undress,” he commanded her. With a shaking hand, Naevia unfastened the ties of her robe and let the long garment fall to the floor. Her body was just as lovely as Lucius remembered. Without another word, Marcinus pushed Naevia forward, into Lucius’s arms. He caught her against his chest, and he finally felt like he could breathe. His mind knew that she was anything but safe. But he couldn’t help but feel relief. Naevia’s whole body was tense and she gripped onto Lucius’s arms for dear life. He ran his hand over her back, trying to comfort her. 

“The rug, now!” Macrinus ordered. Lucius glared up at him. Macrinus gave no other response. He only twirled the dagger, with the point on the edge of the desk. It was a casually calculated image. A threat hanging in the air, ready to be made real at any moment. Numbly, Lucius walked to the rug, taking Naevia with him. She didn’t resist, but he felt her shudder in dread. He couldn’t imagine how frightened she must be. If anything, his fate would be easy. He would likely die in the arena soon. But she would be forced to live and bear a child, his child. 

At the rug, he let go of Naevia to free the ties of his britches and drop them to the floor. Unlike at the party, the simple sight of Naevia’s nude body wasn’t enough to make him aroused. He glanced around for oil to help ease his way but saw nothing that could help him. Macrinus rounded his desk to sit in his chair and said, “Naevia.” She startled to attention and tightly clasped her arms to cover her breasts before turning to their master. Macrinus continued, “Get on your knees and help Hanno get ready.”

Naevia took a sharp breath before she nodded. Slowly, she sank down onto her knees. Lucius’s eyes followed her as she lowered down. He couldn’t deny the sight of her in such a submissive position was beautiful. He felt his cock starting to grow stiff just looking at her on her knees in front of him. His stomach twisted in disgust at the idea that he could enjoy this. And he regretted that he had not been allowed to bathe before the meeting. Everything about him must repulse her. But then he felt her soft mouth on him, and all the blood in his body rushed into his cock. She gripped his base in her hand and bobbed her mouth over his tip. Sucking him and then swirling her tongue over him in turn. Lucius swallowed dryly. He kept his eyes closed, not wanting to see Macrinus staring at him from across the room. His tight jaw relaxed just enough for his lips to part and a soft groan to leave his lips. Naevia seemed encouraged by the sound and took more of his length into her mouth. Lucius groaned again, louder this time. He ran his fingers though her hair and looked down at her as she took as much of his cock as she could. Unconsciously, he began to rock his hips into her.

“That’s enough!” Macrinus shouted, stopping them in their tracks. Lucius took a heavy breath as Naevia pulled her mouth off of him. He was fully erect and the top half of his cock glistened with Naevia’s spit. He caught her eye then. She was so beautiful on her knees. Spit dribbled down her lips and her eyes were wet from the effort of taking him. She gazed at him with a mixture of fear and arousal. “Go on!” Macrinus shouted from his desk. Naevia was the one who broke their gaze. She turned around on her knees so she faced away from Lucius. Then, she bowed forward, keeping her head down and putting her ass up high with her legs spread. Her pussy was on full display to him and he saw her lower lips glisten with her wetness. A ridiculous sort of pride filled Lucius’s chest. He knew it was childish, but the thought of her growing wet from having his cock in her mouth made him harder than he ever had been in his life. 

He knelt down between her spread legs and readied to plow her. He notched his cock to her entrance and he felt a delicious shiver run through her body. He pushed in the head of his cock and a gentle moan fell from Naevia’s lips. He found a guilty satisfaction in her anticipation. The whole ordeal would have been so much worse if she resisted him. But to feel her arousal as he entered her was more than he could have asked of her.

Before he could sink into her further, Macrinus interrupted them and asked, “Don’t you want to see her face while you take her?” Lucius couldn’t help it, even though he knew it was a bad idea, his eyes shot to Macrinus’s expression of feigned curiosity. “Or,” he continued, with their gaze locked, “is it easier to pretend she’s your wife when you can’t see her face?”

Lucius felt his face twist in rage. But he also felt Naevia tremble under him. Macrinus was intent on driving this knife as deep as possible. Making sure that Naevia overheard talk of his wife. Calling out Lucius’s disassociation. It was all part of Macrinus’s plan, whatever that was. The last time he had fucked her, Lucius had been afraid to look at Naevia. Not because it was easier to imagine Arishat, but because it was easier to imagine none of it was happening. But now, Naevia would believe she was nothing to him. That she was just a warm cunt he could fill and toss aside. He couldn’t live with that. With a great effort, he tore his eyes away from Macrinus’s smirk and turned back to Naevia. He pulled his tip out of her core, and a trail of her wetness drew out between them. 

Lucius put his hands on Naevia’s hips and encouraged her to turn. She flipped onto her back but kept her legs spread for him. Her pink folds glistening with her arousal. If they had been alone, he would have leaned into her ear and told her what a good girl she was as he filled her. But they weren’t alone. Instead, Lucius took in the sight of her silently. Her breasts shuddered with each frightened breath. Her hair was splayed out around her like a dark halo. And her eyes were on his. Her gaze never left him. It was as though the rest of the world faded away and they were the only two beings in all existence. Slowly, he crawled on top of her and loomed over her slight frame. He had been so afraid she would be repulsed by him. He wouldn’t have blamed her. Not after what he did to her. But she opened herself willingly and moaned as his cock brushed against her bud. He could scarcely believe it. He had raped her. He was about to rape her again. And for some reason, she chose to be nothing more than a delicate, obedient flower. So submissive and willing.  

Without ever taking his eyes away from hers, he lined himself up to her entrance and pressed into her. Her lips parted in a soft gasp as he filled her all the way. Her hands flew to his shoulders and she clung to him with a fierce need. She took him so well. He watched with fascination as her pupils dilated, half certain his must be doing the same. Her mouth hung open in a silent moan as he pulled out of her and then plunged back in, slowly building his pace, snapping his hips into hers with growing force. He leaned all of his weight on one arm and used the other to grip her thigh, pinning her open. Her eyes fluttered closed as he pounded into her. The room was filled with the wet slap of their bodies joining again and again. The only other sounds were the gentle whimpers Naevia gave each time she was filled. She was so perfect. So soft. So wet. All for him! 

Lucius couldn’t deny the jealous beast that grew inside of him. He couldn’t stand the thought of anyone else touching her. Macrinus said she would bear him a child. That was the purpose of this debauchery. To make him an heir. An heir to his grandfather’s line. Lucius imagined what Naevia would look like as she swelled with his child. The image only made him drive into her faster. He let out a heavy moan and rested his forehead against her shoulder. She smelled like bread and honey. He hated to admit it, but the thought of planting his seed in such a sweet girl only urged his need. A primal instinct burned in his mind. He needed to breed. He needed to create something before his miserable life was over. He needed to leave something behind. The animal drive to breed had activated somewhere in the distant corners of his mind, and he couldn’t control it. He felt how tightly her inner walls gripped his cock and all he wanted was to feel her pulse around him as she came. He moved his hand on her thigh between their bodies until his fingers brushed against her bud. Instantly, Naevia’s grip on his shoulder’s tightened. Her nails sunk into his skin and his gasped in response. Her grip on his cock also tightened. She pulsed in time with his ministrations. Clenching down on his length with each drag of his finger over her bud. 

Lucius picked his head up from the crook of her neck. As much as he loved breathing in her scent, he needed to see her. He looked up just as she pulsed around him. Her mouth fell open with a tender moan and her head tilted back, arching her spine. The noise was the sweetest thing he had ever heard. But she wasn’t looking at him. He needed  her to look at him. To see him. To know him. “Look at me,” he demanded between harsh thrusts. Naevia’s eyes fluttered open, but she was looking up at the ceiling. Not at him. “Look at me,” he demanded again, louder this time and with a harsher tone. Naevia’s eyes snapped to his and he felt instant relief. She was burning as much as he was. Every ounce of her essence pulsed with need. A need for him. Lucius gasped as he beheld her. He still couldn’t believe how open and sweet and willing she was for him. He didn’t deserve any of it. He was wholly unworthy. He deserved to feel overwhelming shame. But instead, she was gushing around his cock, making him feel in a way he thought he never would again. He was getting close and he could feel she was too. 

Lucius pinched her bud between his fingers and her walls clenched down on his length. She became impossibly tight and let out a breathy cry. Her eyes were wide and wild as she came on his cock. Lucius let out a low groan as he surged into her as he found his own release. As his warm seed flooded her womb, his eyes fluttered shut and he wondered if it would take root. He rested his forehead against Naevia’s and tried to calm his hammering heart. His chest heaved with each breath but otherwise, he stilled. 

Lucius quickly came down from the high of his orgasm as his mind filled with new anxieties. What if his seed didn’t take? How long would Macrinus force them to do this? Would Naevia be punished if they failed to produce a child? But even worse were the anxieties that came if she did conceive. Would Macrinus be angry if the child was a girl? Would he demand more children from them? If it was a boy, would he be forced to train as a gladiator? Would he be branded and marked? Would he spend his whole life as a slave? Would the boy look like him?

Lucius was vaguely aware of the sound of Macrinus pushing back his chair and walking toward them. But he didn’t fully become aware of his master until he was just a few paces away. Macrinus approached and then walked past them. He opened a cabinet on the far wall and proceeded to go about his business, content to ignore the naked slaves entwined on his rug. Almost as an afterthought, Macrinus mused, “It is a shame your mother never gave you a sister. Then I could have bred you with her! Kept the family tradition alive.”

If Macrinus had said such a thing to him earlier in their conversation, Lucius would have struck him, no matter the consequences. But now, with his cock buried in Naevia’s core and the haze of his anxieties dulling his senses, he couldn’t find the will to do anything about it. Perhaps if he really had a sister, he would have cared more. At least, it was impossible for Macrinus to make it real. 

Lucius had been so desperate for eye contact in the throes of his passion. But now, he couldn’t bring himself to meet Naevia’s gaze. Her face was right below his, but he stubbornly refused to look at her. Even as she whispered his name, “Lucius.” It was so soft he barely heard it. But still, her voice rang like music in his ears. He closed his eyes, willing her to disappear from under him. Willing all his guilt and shame to disappear too. “Lucius,” she whispered again, slightly louder. But still, he couldn’t look at her. As Lucius pulled out of her, Naevia gasped and shivered. But Lucius wasn’t in a state to comfort her. He pulled away from her. He got up onto his knees and sat back on his haunches. Naevia was splayed out before him, her legs spread wide. He watched in a mixture of dread and fascination as his seed spilled from her lower lips. The instinct to spread his seed and reproduce had faded away with his climax. He felt a wave of nausea wash though him. It passed quickly, but in its place came a deep and biting shame. He never thought he’d be in this situation. He had heard many gladiators speak of the children they had fathered in whores and courtesans. And he had once believed himself to be above such things. Naevia shivered on the floor. She gathered her arms under her and weakly pushed herself up, closing her legs as she did. Lucius’s eyes were still locked on the juncture of her legs.

Macrinus threw an ornate robe over his shoulders and straightened the fabric. Without even looking at them, he said, “There is a wash basin in the corner for you to clean up.” Lucius followed the gesture of Macrinus’s hand and spotted a clay bowl on a table in the corner. Macrinus suddenly turned his attention back to Lucius and took a few steps toward him. Lucius, uncertain of what would come next, moved to stand. But Macrinus put up a hand to stop him. Lucius was caught down on one knee before his master. It was a submissive position, no doubt intended to be emasculating. Macrinus smiled casually and said, “I am expected elsewhere, but you may stay here for the rest of the afternoon. Someone will collect you at sundown.”

Lucius’s brow furrowed. They were to be left alone together? 

“Help yourself to the wine and the fruit,” Macrinus continued. He turned toward the door but then, he had another thought and turned around again, “And Lucius,” he said with a harsher twist, “There better not be any trouble when I return.” 

Macrinus waited expectantly, staring Lucius down. Lucius nodded, hoping that would be enough to pacify him. It was not. 

“Well?” Macrinus demanded.

Lucius swallowed hard. He knew what was expected of him. But it was worse that Naevia should be a witness to it. He looked up at Macrinus with a blank face and said, “Yes, master.”

Macrinus nodded and without another word, he opened the door and left.

Lucius took a shuddering breath. He could scarcely believe any of what had just transpired had really happened. But most of all, he could not believe Macrinus had left them alone together. It felt… manipulative. Like Macrinus wanted them to form an attachment. He hesitantly glanced at Naevia and she was already looking at him. Her long hair wrapped around her like a veil, shielding the side of her face and her breasts from his view. She pulled her knees up to her chest, making herself as small as possible. Lucius’s eyes fell to the floor and his jaw tightened. He felt another wave of nausea pass through him and he swallowed back the bile. 

In a quiet voice, Naevia asked, “Are you alright?”

Lucius looked up and saw the genuine concern in her eyes. He nodded quickly and broke their eye contact. It was too much for him. He stood stiffly and walked to the wash basin, a wide bowl with a cloth hanging off the edge. He dipped the cloth into the cool water and rung it out. He thought about cleaning his cock, but he had already been filthy before, so it didn’t matter much. Instead, he brought the damp cloth to Naevia and handed it to her. She accepted the small offering and cleaned between her legs. Whipping away the evidence of their coupling. Lucius turned his head away. It was foolish to think of privacy in such a moment. He had been openly staring at her cunt a minute before. And he had been inside of her the minute before that. But it was what a decent man would do. What a better man than him would do. 

When she finished, Naevia stood. Lucius turned back to her and she met his eye. Only two paces separated them, but it felt like all the vastness of the empire lay between them. He was frozen. He couldn’t even breathe as she stared at him from under her long lashes. All he could think was that she might already be carrying his child. After a long moment of terrible waiting, Naevia reached for him. Lucius’s heart stuttered as she drew closer. With her free hand, she touched his chest, tracing over the bruises that painted his flesh. He let out a soft gasp as she touched a spot that was particularly tender. Her hand froze and she looked up at him with worry, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s alright,” he cut her off. And with a half-smile, he added, “I am unharmed.” He still couldn’t believe that she wasn’t afraid of him. He recalled how she had cringed when he picked her up at the party. How she had recoiled from his touch. He had imagined she would react the same way this time, even though she had let him hold her for hours after the party. He fully expected her to hate him. But she didn’t. And he was unprepared. “Are you hurt?” he asked her as gently as he could.

“No,” she whispered as she shook her head softly. Her hand on his chest moved to his shoulder and brushed away some loose sand that still clung to him. 

“Forgive me,” Lucius told her, “He didn’t give me the opportunity to bathe before.”

Naevia gave him a soft smile and said, “It’s alright. There are worse things than a sweaty man.”

“Indeed,” Lucius murmured and returned her smile, though his was more of a grimace. With a heavy sigh, he continued, “What Macrinus said… about you bearing my…” His voice trailed off and his eyes fell. Another deep sigh left his body, and he looked to the heavens for guidance. The gods had no love for him. But somehow, he found the strength to look into Naevia’s eyes again and went on, “Macrinus would use a child to control me. To keep me in line. To ensure I would not rebel against him.” Naevia’s brow furrowed in worry. He wanted to reassure and tell her that he would protect her. But he knew that promise would be impossible for him to keep. “I do not wish for you to be entangled in this mess. If there is a way for you to…” He swallowed hard and prepared for the next words he was about to say. “If there is any way for you to stop it before it takes root…”

Naevia trembled slightly but she nodded. “I know of a way,” she admitted. “My former mistress, she would make me drink a tea. But…” She looked into Lucius’s eyes and he saw her fear, vivid and bright. Tears brewed in her eyes as she said, “I do not have any friends in this house. I don’t know anyone. And I’ve seen girls die because they didn’t brew it right! I don’t know-” She cut herself off as the tears came streaming down her face. 

Lucius wrapped both of his arms around her and pulled her close, tucking her head against his chest. She clung to him as she cried. Her trembling body seemed so small compared to his broad form. She was alone and frightened and it was his fault. Because he had been too emotional. Because he had lost control of himself. “Shh,” he tried to soothe her, knowing he was pathetically out of his depth. “It’s alright,” he cooed as he stroked a hand through her hair, “I won’t have you put yourself in danger.” Naevia sniffled again and nuzzled her cheek against him. She had calmed down, but he could still feel her fear as it pulsed through her. It mixed with his own and pooled deep within him. 

He was lost in his despair until he felt her fingers on his cheek, gently turning his face to hers. Her huge, brown eyes gazed up at him sorrowfully. Lucius wanted to reach into her and take away all the fear and misery she felt. He would take all of it if it meant she would be free. Tenderly, she brushed her fingers over his beard, feeling the coarse hairs shift under her touch. Then, she moved her hand to his brow and stroked the small bruises and cuts that marred his skin. He didn’t deserve her tenderness or her affection. He felt tears gathering in his own eyes. He opened his mouth to speak but no words came out. What could he possibly say to her? What words could sooth his horrible deeds?

Naevia trailed her hand down his chest and took his hand. She led him across the room to the wash basin. She cleaned the cloth in the water and rung it out again. Lucius watched her the whole time, mesmerized by how calm she was. She turned to him and looked up at him expectantly. “Well,” she said, “I cannot reach you up there. So, you’ll have to kneel down.”

Lucius’s heart fluttered. “You mean to wash me?” he asked in disbelief.

Naevia nodded and a blush colored her cheeks. Lucius felt something strange and unnameable swell in his chest. He knelt down and held still while she bathed him with the cloth. She started with his brow, wiping away the sweat and grime that clung to him. She moved down his face and neck. The cool water caused goosebumps to form on his flesh. She knelt down with him and cleaned his shoulders and chest, only slowing as she reached his navel. She hesitated and looked up at him with an uncertain gaze. Lucius took her hand in his own. “It’s alright,” he said to her in a low voice, “I’ll finish the rest.”

Naevia nodded and allowed him to pull the wash cloth from her hand. She stood and retreated back toward the desk, where their clothes lay on the floor. Lucius washed his lower body quickly. The cloth was already filthy but he found a clean corner to scrub his cock with. He barely had the patience to wipe down his legs and feet. His hair was still unwashed but he would have to live with that. He turned back to Naevia and saw she had dressed. Her shy look from across the room sent an unexpected pang though his heart. They hadn’t chosen to be together. But she would be the mother of his child. And that bound them. That made her his responsibility. 

With a hurried pace, he walked back to where his britches lay and hastily pulled them back on. He wished that he had been given a shirt. Maybe then he wouldn’t feel so exposed. Naevia looked as though she felt the same way. Her bare arms were pulled tight across her chest, holding herself. He could see her uncertainty. To a certain degree, it was endearing. But he hated that it was him that made her so uncertain. 

With a heavy sigh, he sat down on a bench. His hands gripped his knees and his knuckles turned white from strain. He had much to consider. In the months since his enslavement, he had allowed himself to become consumed by revenge. He could live with bearing his own punishments. But if Macrinus were to pass them on to Naevia and the child, he would never forgive himself. He did not know how to calculate a child into his plans. Much to his surprise, Naevia sat next to him. She sat close enough that their legs touched. After a moment of hesitation, she placed her hand over his, soothing him. He instantly relaxed into her touch. 

Lucius’s mouth went completely dry and he gulped down a heavy breath. “I don’t understand your goodness,” he confessed as he turned to her with awe in his eyes. “And I don’t deserve your tenderness.” 

Naevia shook her head. “No,” she murmured, “It is you who have been good to me.”

Lucius couldn’t help the scoff that fell from his lips. “I violated you. I forced myself on you. Twice now.”

“But you didn’t want to!” Naevia protested. “I could see it from the moment we first met eyes. You’re not like the others.” Lucius raised his hand to her face and stroked her cheek. Naevia leaned into his touch and let out a soft sigh, “Every other touch I have known,” she continued slowly, “was cruel and selfish. You are the only man who has ever… made me feel good.”

A swell of pride flushed in Lucius’s chest.  “My only solace in all this mess,” Lucius told her in a low voice, “Is that no other man will touch you now.”

Naevia opened her eyes and met his with a burning gaze. “I am glad for it,” she said with a smile. “You see? Why would I hate you when you have protected me?”

“I cannot protect you,” Lucius admitted sorrowfully. “I am but a slave. I will likely die in the arena before the child is born.”

Naevia took his hand in hers again and said, “Let us not think of such things.”

Lucius swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat and said, “I can think of nothing else.” Naevia’s face clouded with worry. But he continued before she could reply, “These past months, I have been driven only by revenge. For my wife and for my home. But now,” he let out a dark laugh, “I cannot continue down that road without endangering you.”

“Do not worry about me,” Naevia said gently, “I am not with child yet.”

“But you could be,” Lucius said with grave sincerity. 

Naevia blushed deeply but she did not respond. She didn’t have to. 

Silence settled between them. There was little they could say to each other without opening the floodgates of their emotions. Instead, they found a solace in touch. Naevia curled herself under Lucius’s arm and she rested her head against his shoulder. It was comforting to feel her weight against him. Lucius wrapped his arm around her and held her tightly. 

All too fast, the afternoon sun fell low in the sky. The door to the chamber opened and two of Macrinus’s guards stood outside. It was time. 

Lucius placed a kiss on Naevia’s brow. She clung to him as they stood and walked to the door. Only when they reached the guards, did they finally part. Naevia’s fingers lingered on his hand for a moment as they were taken in opposite directions down the hall. Lucius looked back over his shoulder and saw Naevia do the same. It wasn’t like the first time they parted ways; he knew he would see her again. 

AN: I intended this to be a quick follow up, I really did! I intended to post this before new years. But then... well, it just kept getting bigger and more elaborate. I have really loved exploring Lucius's psyche. He's such a fateful character.

As always, thank you all for reading!! If you enjoyed reading this, please comment or reblog. It really means the world to me! And my ask box is always open to anyone who wants to talk about Lucius or writing in general!! <3

[n0vazsq]

Just like | AP80 x Reader

pairing . . . alex powell x gf!reader

summary . . . You knew Alex was clingy, but it was the one thing the other Prema drivers loved to tease him about

request . . . yes!! based on this request!

word count . . . 1.1k+

warnings . . . none!

faceclaim . . . N/A

alexavia yaps . . . i legit finished writing this then just left it bc i didnt have the energy to publish?? like girl?? anyway there will be a gabriel (bortoleto) and jamal (musiala) update today so yes!! might write two smaus but ill see until then!

. . . Hanging out with Alex and the other Prema drivers was always a good time, but if there was one thing his teammates loved to tease him about, it was how clingy he got whenever you were around.

Not that you minded. Alex’s affection was one of the many reasons you loved him. It was just funny seeing him squirm when the guys decided to give him a hard time about it.

The first time it happened after a particularly tiring race weekend. Alex had just climbed out of the car, soaked in sweat and grinning from ear to ear after a podium finish.

You had barely stepped into the paddock when he spotted you, immediately heading in your direction. His arms wrapped around you tightly, and he buried his face in your shoulder.

"Alex, you’re sweaty!" you laughed, trying to push him away, but he refused to let go.

"Don’t care," he murmured. "I missed you."

From behind him, Dion’s voice rang out. "Mate, she was gone for what, two hours?"

"Not even," added Rashid, crossing his arms and grinning. "And you’re acting like you haven’t seen her in weeks."

"Leave him alone," you said, playfully defending Alex while running a hand through his damp hair. "He deserves some love after that race."

"Deserve it all the time," Alex mumbled against your shoulder, making you laugh.

Dion pretended to gag. "God, get a room. Or at least shower first, Alex. We can smell you from here."

Alex shot them a glare but didn’t loosen his hold on you. If anything, he tightened his arms around your waist, as if daring them to say something else.

Another moment came a few days later in the Prema lounge. The team had gathered to relax and watch some old race footage, with snacks scattered across the table.

You’d come by to hang out, not expecting Alex to immediately pull you onto the couch next to him. His arm draped over your shoulder, and he leaned in so close it was like he thought you might disappear if he gave you even an inch of space.

"Comfy?" you teased, tilting your head to look at him.

"Always comfy with you," he replied, pressing a quick kiss to your temple.

"Does she have to sit here?" Kean groaned, gesturing at how you and Alex were practically glued together. "It’s like you’re incapable of being apart for five minutes."

"Jealous, Kean?" Alex shot back, smirking.

"Not at all. I just don’t get how she puts up with you," Kean retorted, earning laughs from Dion, Rashid and Tomass.

"I think it’s sweet," Tomass chimed in, though there was a teasing glint in his eyes. "You know, in a borderline obsessive kind of way."

"Obsessive?" Alex frowned, looking genuinely offended.

"You’re literally holding her hand right now," Dion pointed out. "And we’re just sitting here watching TV. What’s next? You’re going to spoon feed her snacks?"

Alex’s ears turned red, but he didn’t let go of your hand. "You guys are just jealous because I have someone who actually likes me."

"That’s debatable," Rashid argued, earning a laugh from you.

Then there was the time the team decided to have a movie night at Tomass' place. You and Alex had shown up together, of course, and he immediately claimed the corner of the couch, pulling you down next to him.

His head rested on your shoulder, his legs stretched out across the cushions, effectively blocking anyone else from sitting too close.

"Alex, you’re hogging the couch," Kean complained as he tried to squeeze into the remaining space.

"Plenty of room on the floor," Alex replied without moving an inch.

"You’re so annoying," Dion muttered, grabbing a beanbag chair instead. "Does she even get to breathe, or are you going to steal all her oxygen too?"

"She’s fine," Alex said, reaching up to intertwine his fingers with yours. "Aren’t you, love?"

You nodded, suppressing a laugh. "Perfectly fine."

"See?" Alex smirked, looking smug.

Rashid rolled his eyes. "Man, I don’t know how you’re not sick of him yet. He’s like a koala. Clings to you for dear life."

"Hey, koalas are adorable," you defended, running your fingers through Alex’s hair. "And besides, I like it."

"Unbelievable," Tomass muttered, shaking his head. "You two are insufferable."

The teasing didn’t stop even during more serious moments. After a track walk one morning, Alex had casually grabbed your hand as you walked back to the garage. It wasn’t a big deal to you, but it apparently caught the attention of his teammates.

"Alex, do you think she’s going to get lost on the way back?" Tomass joked, pointing at your intertwined hands.

"No, I just like holding her hand," Alex replied, completely unfazed.

"You’re hopeless," Dion sighed, though he couldn’t hide his grin. "You know that, right?"

Alex shrugged. "I’d rather be hopeless than alone."

"That’s… weirdly sweet," Kean admitted, looking mildly impressed for once. "Still clingy as hell, though."

One morning, the team decided to grab breakfast together before heading to the track.

You were sitting next to Alex, and as usual, he was finding little excuses to touch you; whether it was holding your hand under the table, brushing a crumb off your cheek, or leaning in to quietly ask if you needed anything.

"Do you ever just… sit still?" Rashid asked, watching as Alex handed you the honey before you’d even asked for it.

"Not when she’s around," Alex replied, unashamed. "Have to make sure she’s taken care of."

"She’s not a toddler, Alex," Tomass said, rolling his eyes. "She can pour her own honey."

"Yeah, but I like doing it for her," Alex shot back, his tone completely sincere.

You couldn’t help but laugh. "Okay, now you’re just giving them more points."

"It’s worth it," Alex said, grinning as he kissed your cheek. "Let them talk."

By the end of the day, you’d heard enough teasing to last you a lifetime, but you could tell Alex didn’t care. If anything, he was even more clingy, unapologetically showing his affection no matter what anyone said.

As you walked out of the garage together, his arm draped over your shoulders, you leaned into him with a smile. "You know they’re never going to stop teasing you, right?"

"Let them," he said, pressing a kiss to your temple. "As long as I have you, I don’t care what they think."

"You’re such a sap," you teased, but your heart swelled at his words.

"Only for you," he replied, grinning. And in that moment, you knew you wouldn’t change a thing about him, clinginess and all.

It was just like perfection.

Well, nearly. It was as close as you could get to perfection.

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