#showing her unsteadiness

[nbkdramathings]

TEARS. EVERY. EPISODE.

[wherewolf]

yeah what i’m not gonna do is accept ill conceived “critique” from someone with a default icon and the word “memes” in their username……

[sultrysparkles]

MHA BOYS NSFW HEADCANNONS

[•~featuring- AGED UP!! Izuku Midoryia, Katsuki Bakugo, Eijiro Kirishima, Denki Kaminari, Hanta Sero, Hitoshi Shinsou~•]

[•~a/n- haven't written in months!! excuse my writing but im getting back into it!! send requests!!, TY FOR 1K FOLLOWS 🙏🏼~•]

₊˚⊹♡ Izuku Midoryia

-Definitely a closeted pervert. have you seen the way he reacts around other girls?? you can't tell me that he hasn't watched a whole bunch of porn. his mind is definitely filthy and has no limits, very imaginative.

- but he tries his best to hide it, of course. he gets really embarrassed knowing that he's fantasizing about such sexual ideas and how it isn't right, but he can't help it when you wear those low cut shirts that expose your cleavage so well, or whenever your skirt rides up your thighs, showing off so much skin he doesn't even know what to do.

-100% a tits guy. any size is perfect to him, because to him it's not about the size. as long as he can grope and squish them or even seeing your hardened nipples poke through the thin fabric of your shirts. It's just enough to get him going.

-he gets super shy the first couple times you two do fuck. I'm talking constant rambling, the cherry red blushed cheeks and all those whimpers. he really doesn't know how to act. he's been waiting for the moment your soft delicate hands wrap around the base of his cock, or when he could feel your slick walls tighten around his shaft. he's been dreaming of this night for so long, he can't believe it's actually happening.

-he gets fucked out so so quickly. it's already so hard to not just cum as soon as he enter your tight wet walls. so after a couple thrusts he's mumbling about how good you feel and how much he loves you. when he gets closer, his hips buck into yours in an unsteady pace. his thrusts are more shaky and harder as he's whispering both quiet praises and curse. shutting his eyes tightly as he reaches his high, mouth slightly agape too.

-he loves eating. he prefers giving rather than receiving, simply because he'd rather please you. hearing your soft angelic sounds and watching as your face reacts with every little thing he does is already enough to make him cum. like I said, he has watched so much porn, he has analyzed them for moments like this. and he's analyzing you too. taking mini mental notes of what makes your hips shuffle, or what makes your cries go a pitch higher. he's so good at giving head, it makes you question if he even is a virgin anymore.

₊˚⊹♡ Katsuki Bakugo

-a throat fucker. you could start off going slow and taking him in little by little, but every time you end up with mascara smeared all over your eyes, spit mixed with precum dripping down your chin. and your mouth full of his cum. bakugo gets impatient, and needs to feel your throat around his cock. he's thrusting into your mouth like he doesn't care that your sobbing, gagging on his cock so hard your stomach aches, because he knows you like it when he's rough with you.

-he's an ass guy. and back shots with him are like no other. he bends you over his work desk, arms pinned to the middle of your back as hers leading his leaky tip to your entrance, ramming it in. a hand sneaks over to the fat of your ass, grabbing a handful as he waits for you to adjust to his size. after all he isn't that mean to make you feel pain. once you give him the green light, he instantly starts pounding into you, watching the as your plush ass ripples with every thrust. even spanking it a couple times.

-prefers to cum on you. don't get him wrong he loves to cum inside, his ego only grows as he watches his cum drips out your hole. but seeing your face, your gorgeous face decorated with the opaque ribbons of his cum, it feeds the possessive side of him. knowing that you're only his. but cumming on your ass? it's just enough to get fully hard again and ready for round two.

-imagine katsuki having you on your stomach, your upper half being shoved into the mattress by one hand. the other hand gripping onto your mouth. he didn't tell you to be quiet, because he doesn't want you to be. he loves hearing your pleas and mewls but he knows how loud you are. the neighbors would be pissed if they heard you two all night. but you enjoy this moment ever more. the angle he's holding you at makes his angry tip ram into that spongey spot repeatedly. making his attempts to silence you go to waste.

-he gets jealous super easily. especially if he notices you're hanging out with Midoryia more than him. you're his. and only his so why should he have to share someone like you with anybody else? he needs you to understand who you belong to, so jealousy sex is a common thing for you two. he's a lot rougher with you, doesn't show you any mercy. he'll keep edging until he gets tired of it, bring you so close to your high only to pull out last second. he needs to let out his frustration some how.

-his favorite position is definitely doggystyle. like I mentioned he's a big ass guy, but he likes the position mainly because you're at his mercy. he controls the speed, going painfully slow or brain numbingly fast. he craves power and control. a big hair puller too, the position allows him to yank on your hair whenever he wishes too. mainly to make you moan louder, or to bring make you listen to all the humiliating things he has to say about you.

₊˚⊹♡ Eijiro Kirishima

-definitely talks you through it. he is big. and he knows it. so the first time he slides himself in, he's peppering you with many kisses to your forehead. holding your hand and telling you about how well you're taking him. he pushes himself in, slowly snd gently do he doesn't hurt you two much. he would hate to see you cry. just reminding you there's only a little bit more to go, snd when you do take all of him in. he tells you how proud of you he is. he's such a sweet gentleman<3

"c'mon just a couple more, I know you can do it princess..."

"you did it baby, took me so well, you feelin' alright?"

-he loves hand holding. mainly because of the size difference. your hand is so much smaller than his. your palms are gentle and soft, contrasting his own. he fingers curl around yours perfectly, almost like they were meant to be together. but his favorite part is whenever you squeeze his hand. it makes him feel so strong. like you're telling him you feel safe with him, he just loves all the intimacy.

-he's a decent eater, he can get the job done of course. but nothing will ever compare to his fingers. they're long and wide, and at the perfect size to make you see stars. his digits curl just right while they thrust repeatedly. and his thumb is focused on your clit, rubbing smooth tiny circles on the bud. making your back arch and pelvis shake from the pleasure.

-hes such a gentleman, and he prioritizes your pleasure of his. one way he shows you this is by always making sure you cum before him. no matter what the situation is. he could pissed at you, but he'd still make sure that you cream all over his wide fingers before focusing on his own throbbing erection.

-is super big on consent. he does not play around about that. he would never EVER want to hurt you in any way, so he always triple checks to make sure you're okay with everything. always asking before he slips your panties of you, or reminding you that you don't need to force yourself for him. he also does not play about that mumbling stuff. he needs to hear an audible answer from you're lips before he can continue.

"you know better than that baby, c'mon use your words"

₊˚⊹♡ Hanta Sero

-he's such a tease. always leading you on, whether that be the heated make out sessions, or the way he whispers dirty things into your ear in public. he'll even pretend that he didn't just tell you how much he wants to bend you over the restaurant table and fuck you dumb Infront of all the people here. he doesn't actually mean it, it's all just to rile you up for later.

-has a big humiliation kink. it's so selfish but he can't help it. hanta lives to see your cheeks flush a baby pink as you hide your face away from him. he find it's so cute, knowing how easily he can break apart your attitude so quickly. he's always reminding you of how dirty you sound moaning for him like this, or how pathetic you look struggling to take all of him in your mouth.

-a big wrist holder. type of guy to always pin your wrists above your head as his hips buck into you swiftly. you're at his grace and he has all the control right now, which he tease you about of course. you look so desperate and downright helpless being held like this that's he can't help but remind you of it.

-this ties in with humiliation, but he also has a really bad dumbification kink. he wants to fuck you so dumb you won't even be able to straight for the rest of the night. whenever he's thrusting up into you as you run your mouth babbling about how good he's making you feel, hanta just wears the most shit eating grin ever. because everything you're saying doesn't make sense, not even in the slightest but his ego boosts exponentially knowing he can get you in a state like this.

-he loves THIGHS. especially if they have stretch marks or cellulite on them. he finds them so appealing. your thighs looks so soft and plushy, he can't help but just want to lay on them. but his favorite thing about them is whenever he's eating you out and you squeeze them around his head just right. gosh it feels like he's about to suffocate to death, but he wouldn't even be mad about it. he'd let you crush him with your thighs any day of the week.

-if you had one complaint about hanta, it would be about how many hickeys he would leave on you. after every night you'd wake up to finding hickeys all over your body. you see it as mainly annoying yet a little cute, but hanta does it just for both his own pleasure and for his possessiveness. seeing you marked up because of him just turns him on so much especially seeing your inner thighs decorated in the purplish red bruises. everyone knows who gave you all them too, giving him the greedy satisfaction he craves.

₊˚⊹♡ Denki Kaminari

-he is such a pervert. and he doesn't even hide it. now he's not like mineta, he's not going to go around and flirt with every girl he sees and harass them. no, his eyes are only focused on you. and just you. and whatever he does, he always makes sure that you're okay with it of course but that's not stopping him from whispering dirty things in your ears when you're in public. the worst part is, whenever you confront him about it he'll play dumb, acting like nothing ever happened.

-both an ass and tits guy. denki can't just pick one, they're both so hot to him. lowcut and tight shirts have him in a chokehold. he loves the way your boobs are somewhat exposed in low cut shirts, and tight shirts that show you're figure make him feel all mushy. but on top of that, he's a sucker for short miniskirts and short shorts. anything which just reveals your shape just makes him want to act up.

-the biggest tease you'll ever meet. he will mes with you about everything. did you just squirt on him? yeah he's never letting you forget that. oh did you want him to go faster? he'll make sure to go extra slow for you. he does it all just to make you angry (he finds it oddly hot seeing you annoyed) but his favorite part is teasing the tip of his cock into your entrance. no matter how much you beg for him, he'll repeat his painfully annoying little actions. only stopping whenever he feels like you've waited enough. overall he's just so unserious.

-D1 eater. that man knows what he's doing. well scratch that, no he doesn't. he doesn't know what he's doing to be real with you, he's eating mainly for his own selfish pleasure. drool and arousal is all over his chin but he doesn't care, he hasn't had enough yet. his tongue is thrusting into your hold viciously as a finger is rubbing desperate circles on your bud, even sending a couple light zaps to help him stimulate you.

-his favorite position is definitely cowgirl. it's the way you're on full display for him, tits bouncing as you grind yourself on him. he also likes the position because it allows you to have control. denki is a big switch and wouldn't mind you taking the lead for once, and if he needs to he won't hesitate to lift you up by the hips and thrust up into you.

-BIG dumbification kink. for both himself and you. seeing you so cock-drunk turns him on so much, because you look so good. your hair sticking to your sweaty forehead as your eyes are half lidded and hazy. but on the other side, he wants you to the same to him. denki secretly wants you to ride him so well that he short circuits and can't think straight. the effect your wet clammy pussy has on him puts him in a trance.

₊˚⊹♡ Hitoshi Shinsou

-LOVES THIGHS. he is 100% a thigh guy. he doesn't care what you do to him. you could try to crush his head and he'd thank you for it. his favorite part though, is whenever you sit down and your skirt rides up your thighs, exposing so much more. just seeing your bare exposed thighs only makes his thoughts even worse than normal.

-headboard grabber!! he definitely is rough with his thrusts and grips the headboard to steady himself. and he looks so good doing it. imagine hitoshi, all sweaty and looking back down at you with his natural sleepy eyes as you both lose yourself to the overwhelming pleasure. he looks absolutely majestic.

-hes definitely into somno. of course he'd only act on it if he had your consent. but once you gave him the okay, the stars aligned for hitoshi. we all know he's an insomniac and that he usually has trouble sleeping, so it's not unusual to wake up, feeling his girth stretching you out in the middle of the night. he'd try to be super gentle and soft at first so you didn't wake up. but he gets impatient quickly and ends up risking it, usually always waking you up.

-A BIG HAIR PULLER. loves to pull your hair, mainly to force you to keep eye contact with him and so he can you're fucked out expression. and the mewl you let out whenever he tugs on your hair extra harshly makes him want to let loose right there. but he's also a big sucker for getting his own hair pulled too. your soft delicate fingers getting entangled in his dark lavender locks,the sensation is merely indescribable.

-he loves it whenever you praise him. he'll act like he doesn't care about it much, but deep down his heart is pounding rapidly. just hearing how good he's making you feel, especially with your shaky voice. it's such a turn on for him. whenever you praise him about anything he melts, feeling so confident in himself. which only lead him to be even more determined to make each time unforgettable

-face sitting with hitoshi is such an experience. imagine this, you've begged him to let you try it, just so you could understand the hype behind it. and hitoshi agrees, pretending to not be just as excited as you. (he's been dreaming of his head being squished with your thighs). but once you lay your cunt over his face, he gets to work. now im not going to lie, yes not the best eater but this position makes up for everything. this man is eating like he's been starved for months. and don't you dare try to live yourself off him, he's only going to pull you back down.

DO NOT COPY/REPOST MY WORK, I will find u lil bro

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Puppy Love.

Pairing: Yandere!Yuuji x Reader x Yandere!Yuuta

Word Count: 2.6k.

TW: Hybrid AU, Puppy!Yuuta, Puppy!Yuuji, Fem!Reader, Non/Con, Somnophilia, Biting, Oral Sex, Unhealthy Relationships, and Obsessive Behavior.

You heard Yuuji, first.

 He’d always been the louder of the pair, not that it was a very steep competition. You hadn’t had him for very long, but—well, it was less that he came out of his shell quickly and more that he’d never had a shell at all. It only taken a day or so for him to get used to the idea of living with you and Yuuta full-time, a week for him to start acting like he’d always been a part of your little family, and another month before he started pawing at your bedroom door at night and whining when you reminded him that you preferred to sleep alone (meaning: without multiple two-hundred pound hybrids draped across you). He was energetic, overly friendly, even if you wouldn’t go so far as to call him disobedient or difficult. You figured having a more, for lack of better phrasing, dog-like hybrid in the house would be good for Yuuta, bring out his more instinctive side. In reality, the added stress of an overly hyper roommate had only worked to make him just a little more anxious than he already was, but you still thought it was good for him. If nothing else, Yuuji gave Yuuta something to focus on that wasn’t you, and Yuuta could use more distractions.

But Yuuji, though—He was what you should’ve been focusing on, at the moment. Through the haze of exhaustion, you could hear the door creaking open, the muffled sound of padded feet on carpeting and the tiny, almost inaudible vocalizations Yuuji never seemed to realize anyone else could hear. Soon enough, you felt the foot of the mattress dip as he clambered onto your bed. Any other night, you would’ve forced yourself to sit up and tell him to leave, would’ve called on the dozens of books and hundreds of blogposts you’d read about hybrid obedience training and found the strength to ‘reinforce boundaries despite personal feelings’, but you were tired beyond the point of discipline, and Yuuji didn’t mean any harm. One night of letting him curl up next to you wouldn’t hurt, even if you did make a mental note to show Yuuta some extra affection in the morning – just to keep the scales balanced. For all their many differences, they were both prone to crying favoritism.

You never stirred, but you settled deeper into place, curling into yourself as Yuuji remained at your feet. You might’ve fallen asleep entirely, if Yuuji hadn’t spoken.

His voice was quiet, low, audibly trepidatious. It reminded you of Yuuta’s nervous, stuttering inclination, although not quite as unsteady. “Are you sure it’s alright to…?”

“I am.” You weren’t sure who you expected to answer, but the sound of Yuuta’s voice almost startled you awake. It was normal for Yuuji to bend the rules. Yuuta was supposed to know better. “She’s asleep, right? Just don’t wake her up.”

Yuuji didn’t respond, but you felt the sheets draped over your shift, a warm hand curl around your calf. For as little reassurance as Yuuta had provided, it seemed to be enough for Yuuji.

It was half curiosity and half fatigue that kept you quiet as Yuuji moved around you. Whatever they might’ve been up to, nothing could’ve seemed worse than having to wake up and sacrifice much-needed sleep for the sake of scolding your (usually angelic) pets. At worst, you’d wait until you could catch them in the act or, better yet, grit your teeth and bare it until they left. Anything not to have to deal with this for another eight hours.

You rolled onto your side, twisting your leg out of Yuuji’s hand and letting out a soft groan as you curled into yourself. It wasn’t a subtle position, let alone an inviting one, but Yuuji only whimpered, only edged closer to you. This time, when he touched you, it was to take up your shoulder – his hold gentle and breathing heavy as he nudged you onto your back. Whatever he was doing, he seemed determined to see it through. It might’ve been more admirable, if you hadn’t been so confused.

You felt your sheets pull away from you next, then another hand on your ankle, Yuuji’s rough claws pressing lightly into your skin as his loose grip flexed. You felt him draw your legs apart, and with the corner of your mouth already quirking downward, you started to open your eyes, to sit up and—

Suddenly, you felt something wet and warm press into your cunt, and you stopped moving entirely.

Whatever lingering exhaustion you might’ve felt was swiftly replaced with cold, pointed terror. This time, you forced yourself to hold still, it wasn’t out of confusion or curiosity, but an abrupt and paralyzing fear.

It wasn’t a feeling Yuuji seemed to share. His tongue was already moving across the length of your slit, his drool already soaking into the silk of your panties. He was making those noises, again; deep and throaty, closer to the sounds a prowling animal would make than anything remotely similar to human speech. Both of his hands found their way to your ass, claws biting into the plush flesh as he buried his face in your pussy. He was just as rough with his mouth – his pointed canines ghosting over the inside of your thighs and catching on the material of your panties, his broad togue laving over your covered entrance as if he could taste you through the fabric. It was only when he bowed his head, when the bridge of his flat nose ground against your clit that you started to wonder if he actually could, but forced yourself not to linger on the idea for very long. Thinking about what he was doing, assigning a motive to his actions – that would only make this worse. Thinking at all would only make this worse.

You bit down on the side of your tongue with as much force as you could afford to use, willing yourself to hold still, to not react – a wounded animal, playing dead as to not attract the attention of a predator. You felt Yuuji’s hands shift, calloused fingertips pressing into your thighs, then—

“Stop.”

Yuuta. Wonderful, miraculous, well-behaved Yuuta. You would’ve sighed, if you weren’t holding yourself so stiff. You could hear him moving closer, too – his footsteps feather-light compared to Yuuji’s. You braced yourself to break up a fight (there’d been a few when Yuuji first came home with you, when you first realized that Yuuta had never learned to share), but rather than barking, growling, any of the sounds that came with two animals trying to tear each other apart, there was only rustling fabric, another shift in gravity as Yuuta positioned himself by your side. “Y-you’re doing it wrong,” he stammered, and something deep inside of you seemed to curl up and die. “You have to take her clothes off first. Otherwise, she won’t feel anything.”

It was almost strange, hearing him take charge. In any other context, you might’ve been proud.

Yuuji whined, but obliged. His nails scraped against your hips as he balled his fist around the fabric and tore, making no effort to spare the delicate fabric. The remaining scraps were discarded with just as little care, and before you could fully wrap your mind around what was happening, he was back to lapping at your cunt. With the only barrier between you gone, it felt less like he was trying to eat you out and more like he was trying to eat you alive – his tongue too thick and too long, his hands too big and too prone to groping at whatever was underneath him, the boundless energy you were so used to finding either infinitely adorable or impossibly exasperating sudden not quite as harmless than you’d always considered it to be.

The next time he found your clit, you couldn’t stifle your reactions – little, half-choked whimpers and moans escaping despite your pursed lips. Your hips twitched, and for the first time, you felt Yuuji draw back willingly. He was such a sweet dog. Even with your eyes clenched shut, you could picture him tilting his head to the side, his ears flopping in the same direction and his big, dark eyes going full puppy-dog. Usually, you’d melt at the sight, give him whatever he was asking for and comfort him the best you could, but you didn’t have much comfort to spare, and Yuuta was already answering on your behalf.

“That means she likes it,” he explained, his voice a little quieter, a little more airy than it’d been before. “Keep going, she’ll make more.”

There was a short lapse, passed in silence. For a second, you let yourself believe he’d come to his senses, that he might stop, but it was only for a second. His response was enough to dash any remaining hope you might’ve had. “…will she get louder?”

“Mhm.” And then, with the slightest note of pride, “She does for me, at least.”

And just like that, Yuuji’s head dipped, his mouth latching onto your pussy with a renewed concentration. You willed yourself not to move, not to think, not to do anything that would mean having to open your eyes and acknowledge what was happening, but it was impossible not to feel the heat of his mouth against your cunt, not to let the sounds of saliva and arousal against tongues and skin seep into the back of your mind and tint the pleasure slowly starting to pool at the pit of your stomach with a vicious, sickeningly sweet, nectar-like quality. It wasn’t long before your own pitiful noises were just as difficult to suppress, before your hips were jutting upward involuntarily to meet Yuuji’s mouth, before you could feel a mix of drool and slick and every other ungodly thing pooling on your sheets beneath you. Yuuta shifted beside you, edging close enough for his thigh to press against your arm. “You’re—You’re making a mess, she’ll be mad if—”

His voice cut out abruptly, drowned out by a sudden, bubbling moan from Yuuji. Yuuta tried to catch his attention again to the same result until, finally, there was a low growl. Yuuji yelped has his face was shoved further into the space between your thighs – Yuuta pushing down on the back of his head, as little as you wanted to picture your sweet Yuuta doing something like that – but he didn’t seem to mind. If anything, his lapping only seemed to get faster, more reckless, more wild. You didn’t want to, no part of you wanted to cum because of your pet’s mouth, but you could feel the pressure mounting, the heat building, the walls of your pussy convulsing around his tongue as you reached your climax.

There was nothing you could do to stop yourself from crying out as you came, any hope you might’ve had of making it through this without letting either Yuuji or Yuuta know how much of it you’d been conscious for immediately abandoned. You tried to make good use of your adrenaline, to shove Yuuji away and run, but he’d always been strong, even for a hybrid, and he didn’t even have to pull away to pin your hips to the mattress and nurse you through your orgasm, his tongue now fucking into you unabashedly. He only stopped when the last of your aftershocks had died out, when it was all you could do to lie limp and mutter all the little ‘no’, ‘stop’, ‘please’s that you’d pictured yourself screaming only seconds ago. Even then, the separation wasn’t made by choice – no, it was Yuuta who finally, finally dragged him off of you. Even through the darkness of your bedroom, you could see his fingers knotted in Yuuji’s untamable hair, his knuckles white and his grip steadfast. By the time he let go, Yuuji’s back was straight and he’d gone surprisingly quiet – his dark eyes glassy and fixed on yours. By the time you could force yourself to look to Yuuta, he wasn’t much better. He was focused on you, too, but he didn’t look quite as dazed, quite as mindless. His lips were parted, but his eyes were narrowed, and he was wearing the expression he’d worn when you first brought Yuuji home, all displaced resentment and palpable betrayal. If you hadn’t known him so well, you might’ve called it anger.

Yuuji broke the silence. He whined sharply, slumping forward and kneading down where his hands were still planted on your hips. You opened your mouth, ready to tell him to get down, to get out, but Yuuta cut in before you had the chance to spit anything out. “Turn her over. It’ll be easier if she’s on her stomach.”

Yuuji didn’t hesitate. You felt his hands on your midriff, and then, you were on your chest, Yuuji’s form hunched over you as he ground something stiff and hot and leaking against your ass. You tried to push yourself up, to get away, but you were barely able to get your knees underneath you before Yuuji’s arms were around your waist, his face buried in the crook of your neck and his pointed teeth bared against the side of your throat. He didn’t growl, didn’t bite, but you went still regardless. You didn’t think Yuuji would hurt you, but you never would've thought he would do this, either.

Whatever aggression he might’ve felt faded quickly – as soon as he started rutting against your ass. You could feel him panting against your throat, his breath humid and stifling, and his chest pressing into your back. He was too close. He was too much. When he spoke, it was almost deafening, even if you knew it couldn’t be much more than a mumble. “Hurts so bad,” he muttered, as his cock ground uselessly against your ass, your thighs. “Been hurtin’ so bad since you took me home. I was so happy when Yuuta told me you could help, and—and, that you wouldn’t mind, and—”

His voice cut out abruptly as the blunt head of his cock caught on your entrance and, with a cracked whine, thrust into you. There was no time to adjust, to block out – just a sudden heat inside of you and the immediate, overwhelming fullness of his cock battering the walls of your pussy. “Off,” you half cried, half screamed – your voice a jagged, shaking mess. “Get down, stop, get—”

But Yuuji wasn’t listening. His tongue lapped clumsily at your neck as he fucked into in slow, languid thrusts – his hips slamming into your ass with enough force to bruise. You went limp, sobbing openly into your sheets, but Yuuji was strong enough to hold you up on his own, to not have to care what state you were in underneath him. So caught up in your own misery, you didn’t notice Yuuta moving until he was in front of you, until his hand had worked its way underneath your chin and tilted your head back far enough for your tear-clouded gaze to find his. His expression was that same mix of resentment and pity and bitter, bitter anger. Still, when your eyes met his, the corner of his lips quirked up, some of the harsher lines around his eyes fading into nothing.

“I wouldn’t be this rough with you.” His tone was flat, softened. He ran his thumb over your cheek, leaning down just far enough for his lips to brush against the top of your head. “I would be a good mate. You don’t need anyone else.”

Again, he leaned in, slotting his lips against yours with a feather-light sort of gentleness. At the same time, you heard Yuuji moan, felt his teeth sink into your shoulder, and started to wish you couldn’t feel anything at all.

[hypnagogics]

THE WAY YOU WRITE IS JUST SO YUMMM so yeah🧍🏻‍♀️can you write something about streamer ellie <33

☆: IM SO SORRY FOR THE WAIT. definitelyyyy hasn't been...months...anyway. positive this is one of the worse things i've written, but didn't wanna leave you hanging forever! ngl it's pretty filthy..heh.

◇: 18+ pretend those twitch guideline things don't exist. remote control vibrator use, orgasm denial, sub-ish!ellie?? plot twist at the end bc i think im so funny. 1.6k wc. don't mind the layout of this idk what else to do...

You watch your girlfriend stream her game from your fluffy and comfortable spot on your shared bed—you observe how focused she was on her screen, how her skilled fingers were flying across the keyboard and mouse. It would certainly be a shame to disturb her in such a high tension moment but you think it over, running your finger over the small buttons of the sleek little remote in your hand.

"Yeah, yeah, got 'em! Look at that guys, I fuckin’ aced that!" Ellie rejoices in her victory, and gleefully boasts to her viewers, adjusting her microphone closer and leaning back in her chair.

You're glad you were far off camera, her fans didn't even know she was in a relationship—Ellie made it clear she wanted you to be separate from her hobbies, not because she wanted to keep you a secret, but because she wanted to keep you safe. And you enjoyed watching her stream from the sidelines like this, you saw how her personality captivated viewers and how much fun she really was. But you also enjoyed messing with her on the occasion. Like today.

"Can I watch tonight's stream again?" You asked her eagerly. "Yeah, why not? I'll be doing some tournaments and stuff though, so no distractions." Oops. You bit back a laugh. Ellie immediately sussed out the mischievous look on your face and she sighed, expecting the worst.

Then you showed her the box you've been hiding, "Please let's try, I won't click it too much, I promise." She stared at you for a whole minute, maybe more, before sighing and reluctantly agreeing, rubbing her hands all over her face. "God, fine. Just 'cause I love you. Damn you're evil."

Fast forward to now—the device was snugly inserted inside her pretty pussy, tested out to prove it does in fact work, and works well at that.

So off Ellie went to play her game, getting so caught up in everything she seemingly forgot about the device entirely. In between games she was talking to the viewers, reading the chat and joking back and forth. You decided it was a good enough time to click it so you pressed the button, only for a miniscule zap.

She jerked in her seat, gasping, but quickly recovered with a strategic cough. "Phew sorry guys, something got caught in my throat." You saw a bright berry blush spread across her face, and the way she fought to turn and throw a glare at you. This was going to be fun.

"Alright, the next round’s gonna start, we gotta lock in! Hopefully nothing pops up and this goes smoothly. I can taste the win already.” She put a certain warning tone to her voice in the last part of her sentence, you knew it was meant for you, but were you going to listen? Absolutely not. "Oh yeah chat fun fact, this old area of the map was inspired by ancient ruins just of—ah!" As if her body had a mind of its own, she squirmed in her seat and she clapped her hand over her mouth to stifle a moan when you hit it again, but this time you didn't turn it off right away. You kept it going for a few more seconds, to prolong the terribly delicious sensation.

She screwed her eyes shut tightly and held her breath until you turned it off, mumbling to her viewers about "having hiccups". "The game is starting now, so we really gotta get serious." Her voice had an unsteadiness to it only you could hear, she was keeping her composure rather well so far. But likely wouldn't be able to keep up the act for much longer. Even she has her limits.

As her match went on, she got quiet when she was focused, mashing the keys with a speed fast as sound. Of course, you hit it again, just a short one, causing a choked "guh" to escape from her lips and she twitched when you did so, her facade starting to crack. The effort to keep her voice stable was showing, she was huffing and struggling to get her words out clearly, they were laced with obvious irritation.

"Fuck missed the shot, dammit. Yeah I don't know, somethings up today, sorry guys...off my game." You decided to be nice to her until the game ended, not pressing it further or adjusting the intensity. She played for a little while longer before losing the match, leaning forward on the desk with her face in her hands. This was the perfect moment, so you cranked it up, increased the intensity to maximum, and held the button for the longest time yet, making her whine—a low, drawn out sound she couldn't stifle this time.

You could hear lots of messages being sent, pings in rapid succession, they were probably clipping that moment. Perverts, you thought. 

Her chest was noticeably heaving up and down, her legs spread as she rocks her front against the chair, and she kept her head lowered until you decreased the intensity but didn't turn it all the way off. Her hands were shaking, and her face was a vibrant cherry red, the screen even reflected the sparkle of a couple tears in her eyes.

“What? Oh, I'm just so sad about the loss guys, we were so close—hnn- so…so closeahh—I mean, we should've gotten that…” She trailed off, chewing on her bottom lip and tapping her fingers on the desk’s wooden surface. “Y’know what, I'll be right back.” She paused the stream, made triple sure her camera and microphone were turned off, then whipped around in her chair to face you, glaring silver daggers your way.

You just giggled innocently and turned the device off again. “What the fuck is wrong with you, this shit is not- not light on you at all.” Her voice was breaking, her pretty features contorted in a beautifully needy expression, eyebrows furrowed and eyes all watery. Nearly as wet as the mess in her pants. You feigned innocence and shrugged at her, “Well I didn't know it was that strong.” “You knew damn well.” She's fed up with your antics, but you have fun playing with her. She covers her face and leans back in the chair, the embarrassment in her voice the only thing you could hear, “Fuck you...turn it up again, wanna cum.”

You couldn't contain the laugh that burst forth from your chest, then said, “Only if you stream it.” The shock that flickered across her face was priceless, you wish you could have snapped a photo.

“What the fuck do you mean by that, nah forget it.”

“Hey, you gotta finish your stream either way, they're waiting. Would you wanna be so awful and deprive those darlings of your presence?”

You flash her a sugary smile, and she shoots you a murderous look again, before wordlessly scooting back to her setup, fanning herself briefly and readjusting her coppery hair.

Then she turns the stream back on. “Sorry guys, I had to get up for a second. Anyway, let's play one more game. I'm getting kinda tired today. Let's make this one count, lock in like never before.” She takes a deep breath, cracks her knuckles, and begins smacking away at the keyboard buttons. You're able to see the way she looks tense, on edge, anticipating your devilish interruption.

You debate whether you should torture her, but the answer quickly becomes clear. Click.

“Ah—fuck!” She sputters, and roughly slams her fist on the desk. The pleasure was hitting her with full force, she was in her own, lewd, world now. Her head is thrown back, back arched and hips stuttering, the release was about to sneak up on her.

You watch the scenario unfold, licking your lips and pressing your thighs together to deal with the pressure between them. Her unapologetic moans get louder, but for a second she snaps out of the trance to sit back upright, turn the stream off, before the peak hits her like a truck.

“Holy, fu—hah!!” With a squeal she cums, not caring about how fucking loud she was being, wanting to be selfishly absorbed in ecstasy.

She started to jolt around in her seat, the throes of overstimulation making her whimper like an animal in heat, it truly was a sight to behold. You wish you were in between her legs, lapping up her sweetness straight from the source, but in a way, just watching from the sidelines was satisfying enough. You'll clean her up afterward.

Finally you turned it off once and for all, and gazed at her, she was panting heavily, the post-orgasm glow making her rosy skin shimmer in the low light.

“Hmmm, thanks babe, that was so good…” She tried to talk, her head was in the clouds, but she looked at peace.

“You're a whore.” You chortled, and you two shared a laugh.

Although, a flurry of shrill sounds brought you both out of the fantasy. Ping, ping, ping.

Unfortunately she wasn't able to enjoy the aftermath of a mind-numbing session, because her eyes shot open and she began scrambling to find the source of the sound. Your stomach dropped as you watched her panic, her neuroticism infectious.

She looked at you, her eyes wider than saucers, nothing but fear in her voice, “I wasn't able to turn my mic off…”

What was she going to do now?

if you'd like to be tagged in my fics, click here! thank you for reading. asks, reblogs, and comments are appreciated more than you know. ♡

tags: @andersonfilms @ch6douin @aouiaa @sapphic-ovaries @astro-cat2 @paqerings @r3starttt @littlefallenangel111 @sinfulprayerss @lvlymicha @sunnsh1ine @anniee333 @pinkcwake @marsworlddd @caszzine @saturnsdrafts @ashaynep @mascdom @xysbree @liddysflyer @fortune777 @brunaedn @bunnitewsilly @mimasroom2 @deliriousrn @infiniteinquiries @thekill3randthefinalgirl @kissyslut @elliesapple

[cregansdingdong]

imagine cregan and y/n breaking the bed one night just because of his sheer strength and muscle whilst pounding her, ik the conversation with the winterfell wood crafter would be awks as hell afterwards whilst asking for it to be repaired 😇😇

IM HAVING A PROPHETIC VISION, ANON.

At this point, Cregan and his boo thang are just going to have to become familiar with the man. There is no other option, because your choices are either to have this embarrassing conversation a multitude of times with multiple woodcrafters or just one. Because if y'all think this is a one-time thing, you are terribly mistaken.

Cregan is a very passionate person in bed, regardless if he's on top or not. He wants to make sure the two of you are satiated—that does mean the bed will snap like a twig under a boot i dont make the rules i just work here. Personally, I find the actual deliverance of the bedframe to be the most mortifying. Firstly, that big ass broken bed has to be dismantled and removed, if it's not fixable, which takes manpower, and then the new one brought into the Great Keep and put together. Otherwise, the woodcrafter is going to have to make a house call and show up with his tools and planks, walking toward your marital chambers which is embarrassing too :)

ɴᴏᴛ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ. (thoughts ver.)

NSFW stuff under the cut. 18+ only. I'm not responsible for the content you choose to consume. ty.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

That familiar groan under his weight should've been the first warning sign, but Cregan was too distracted to notice. He was lapping at her pretty cunt, tongue delving as deep as he could go and as thorough as he could be without the motions being too unsteady. Alright maybe he did notice initially, but the thought was very quickly shoved to the back of his mind—especially when his pretty wife was trying to rock herself onto his nose, letting out the most quiet of whimpers muffled by their sheets. His ears were focused on her and her only.

With her pearl rubbing against his bridge and his cock feeling so strained in his trousers, no one could really blame him for forgetting about the delicate state of the bed in an instant. Last time they’d gotten particularly frantic in their lovemaking, there had been a low snap somewhere beneath the mattress, a taunt that he was probably too hefty to be moving so much. But winter was coming, a man’s gotta eat…in more ways than one.

By the time he’d recalled they should begin to take it easy on the bed, he was already balls deep behind her, hands gripping the flesh of her ass like a lifeline. He was suffocating in the best way, cock nestled inside, fogging his brain with nothing but instinct. And then she started begging. By then, well, he decided they needed a new bed anyway—six moons wasn’t too bad. Lasted longer than the previous replacement. Three harsh, unrelenting spanks bloom red on her backside as she squeezes around him, sending his blood pumping to the beat of an imaginary war drum. It would be a miracle from the Gods if she wasn’t pregnant by mid-summer. Cregan just couldn’t help himself.

Rutting against her like a man starved, the right side of the bed almost completely collapses, caving in and nearly throwing him off balance. His wife gasped, pleasure momentarily halted as she looked back at him. “Again? Seriously? I told you to write to him last time, did you?” The answer was no, no he did not. “It might have…slipped…my mind.” He murmured, trying to ignore the throbbing in his full balls. They had a silent conversation of glares and a sheepish grin. Then she concedes. “...We might as well finish then. I doubt it can get any worse.”

It could, actually. And it did. He came hard some twenty minutes later, pounding their hips together with a steady desperation. The dip of the broken side was a little annoying, but manageable. Without the support, the right beams of the canopy end up falling right down. No one was harmed, of course. It was only drapes. Cregan found it almost comical but his wife did not. It was going to be a long letter.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

[rainydayathogwarts]

ɢᴏʟᴅᴇɴ ᴛʀɪᴏ ᴇʀᴀ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

Here's my navigation for my other masterlists!

ʀᴏɴ ᴡᴇᴀꜱʟᴇʏ

Jealous, jealous, jealous girl - ** ron notices you upping the PDA when Lavender starts flirting with him and you decide to show her who he belongs to.

popular!shy!reader - * ron’s friends think you were the one who made the move but are shocked to find out the opposite.

the dream** - ron has a dirty dream and wakes up hard next to reader

Needy** - needy!ron misses you because you've been taking NEWTs too seriously but he finds the perfect moment to drag you into an empty classroom.

Overstimulation with dom!Ron**

Goodbye kisses that last longer than intended blurb

Opposite teams** - You play a Quidditch match against your boyfriend, who's a very sore loser.

Glossy lips - Wiping off lip gloss from his lips after a kiss

Late to class** - Ron doesn't want you to leave to class so soon and manages a convincing excuse for you to stay

Unsteady desk chair** - When ron's been locked in his dorm trying to finish an essay all afternoon, you decide to help motivate him a little.

Shameless - Ron and his gf are absolutely shameless about pda, even with their friends around. They face some friendly consequences.

The Chosen one - Ron has lived in the chosen one's shadow since they became best friends, so when he gets the one thing Harry wants, he decides to never let go.

Ron won't stop complaining about Seamus and his girlfriend taking up the dorm until he's the one with a girl in there. coming soon...

ʜᴀʀʀʏ ᴘᴏᴛᴛᴇʀ

Me and You - You keep telling Ron to just 'ask her out' but he won't take your word seriously until you take your own advice. Somehow, you both end up with dates...

Long kisses, risky places - When kissing in the library leads to something more...

Concussions and interruptions - You aren’t expecting to meet Harry’s parents for the first time while you share an intimate moment in the hospital wing after he sustains another quidditch injury.

Harry's bi awakening

"You knew?" "You didn't?" - In which the twins only just find out their sister is dating Harry.

Sub!harry begging mean!slytherin!reader to let him cum, but she's having too much fun... coming soon

ɴᴇᴠɪʟʟᴇ ʟᴏɴɢʙᴏᴛᴛᴏᴍ

Snake ring - In which the twins pull you into a game of seven minutes in heaven.

Dry-humping Neville at a party**

Kiss and tell - In which a very aware y/n of Neville's crush on her gets the courage to make a move.

Stolen glances - Stealing glances at each other across the room until your friends notice.

ᴏʟɪᴠᴇʀ ᴡᴏᴏᴅ

I already won - even though he very much lost the game, he still won you.

How they react when you tell them you're in the mood - Oliver wood edition

Blood, dirt and reunions - You almost die and reunite with an old ex-boyfriend... or not.

ꜱᴇᴀᴍᴜꜱ ꜰɪɴɴᴇɢᴀɴ

Tipsy - Seamus takes care of you when you're drunk.

Safe in his arms - Brother!Harry Potter makes Seamus promise him to keep you safe because of how obvious your feelings are for each other.

ᴘᴇʀᴄʏ ᴡᴇᴀꜱʟᴇʏ

Just a swim - Percy's partner tries to get him to break a couple of rules.

How they react when you're in the mood**

'For the first time in his life, Percy pushes academics aside to focus on a girl, but his family doesn't know and thinks he has gone down a dark road.' coming soon...

ᴄʜᴀʀʟɪᴇ ᴡᴇᴀꜱʟᴇʏ

Guilt trip - Charlie tries to guilt trip the reader to visit his family with him.

ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ ᴋʀᴜᴍ

What's her face - Rita skeeter being annoying

ɢᴇᴏʀɢᴇ ᴡᴇᴀꜱʟᴇʏ

Into the woods** - Waking George up to go out for a morning walk at the Burrow has him feeling quite frisky…

ᴄᴇᴅʀɪᴄ ᴅɪɢɢᴏʀʏ

No disturbances - You and Cedric make such a cute couple that teachers have turned a blind eye to several accounts of PDA.

ᴘʀᴇꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇꜱ

Someone finds out you're dating

he gets turned on at the wrong time*

She gets turned on at the wrong time*

[mariasont]

you should do more aaron hotchner x reader but they get drunk together and they just have a make out session or something 🤫🤫

Strawberry Wine - A.H

a/n: i took this the bimbo reader route because i'm slightly obsessed with them lately so i hope you don't mind <3

thank you so much for requesting xoxo

masterlist

₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: aaron hotchner x bimbo!assistant!reader

summary: hotch is a lot more flirty when he's got some alcohol in him

warnings: kind of suggestive?, flirty hotch, making out, mutual pining

wc: 0.9k

You were vaguely aware of the dizzy sensation taking hold, your steps a little unsteady, cheeks a little more flushed. Penelope's voice, usually so clear, now sound like she was yelling from afar, her excitement over a new cooking show barely registering with you. It all faded into the background as your focus narrowed on one person alone--your boss.

Concentrating on something else was the logical choice, but logic seemed to falter in the face of such distraction. I mean, you had eyes after all.

He looked exceptionally good tonight. Jeans. He was wearing jeans and a zip up. His casual look held an irresistibility about it that you rarely got to appreciate, and now it's all you can dwell on. You could easily blame your preoccupation on a few drinks, but in all honesty, you'd be just as enthralled sober.

Your name was floating through the air, and as you turned, you saw Morgan. His grin was wide, the kind that told you he'd been trying to catch your attention for longer than you'd realized.

His eyebrows lifted, bumping against you with a shoulder as he waggled those same eyebrows. So childish. You knew what he was referring to. He was the first one to catch on to your little crush, but despite his behavior you knew he'd never divulge your secret. 

You nudged him back, not realizing your own strength until you were almost toppling over. You only found your footing when you felt hands on your waist. You leaned back, assuming it was Morgan. You were wrong. 

"You okay?" His voice was soft and low, a soothing sound that tempted you to both lean into him and step back in a fluster.

You glanced around, only to realize that Morgan had disappeared, leaving you with Hotch. You clamped your lips together, fighting the urge to let a stupid smile spread across your face, but the wine's influence made it challenging.

"Yes."

The room spun just a tad more as you tried to focus on Hotch, his usually sharp gaze softened just a bit more tonight. 

He chuckled--a rare, perfect sound that made you tingly all over--and leaned closer. "The wine seems to be doing its job. How many glasses in are we?"

You giggled, but the sound was more like a hiccup. "I should be asking you that," you said with a lopsided smile. "But then again, I guess I mean glasses of scotch, right? You seem like a scotch over wine kind of guy."

"Do I?" His voice was rich and warm. He stepped forward, his eyes briefly flickering to where the rest of the team congregated in Rossi's kitchen. However, they seemed miles away. "You smell good."

His compliment threw you off guard, you blinked, cheeks heating up as you swayed slightly towards him, voice a bubbly stream of words you couldn't control. "You think so? It's actually this new perfume--I got it on sale, can you believe it? And the bottle is just the cutest thing, all pink and pretty."

"I bet." He was smirking. Smirking. You were pretty sure you had stumbled into an alternate reality where Hotch was not just your boss, but someone who was relaxed, almost flirtatious? 

"Here," you said, pointing to the middle of your chest. You were a little breathless, "this is where I spray it."

He gave a low hum, almost inaudible, stepping in until you were toe to toe. You caught the hint of scotch on his breath--just as you had suspected--and it made the room spin a little more. 

His face moved down toward your chest, and you couldn't hardly believe that he couldn't hear your heart pounding against your ribs. 

You inhaled sharply, the valley of your breasts rising to graze against his nose, so lightly that it might have gone unnoticed if not for your intense focus on him. 

"What do you think--?" you started to ask, but as he raised his head, your noses were nearly touching, and the rest of your sentence dissolved.

The realization of how easy it would be to kiss him struck you, tempting and terrifying all at one, and you hesitated, knowing that was one line you shouldn't cross.

But you didn't need to cross it because he obliterated the line with a kiss that thundered against your lips before you could even blink. A smile bloomed against his mouth, and you returned it full force.

It was as if you were tingly from head to toe, like fireworks were exploding all around you, like you were floating on a cloud.

You looped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, as if the space between you could vanish entirely. You felt his broad hands sweep and down your spine, your tongues vying for dominance, the rich, smoky taste of that scotch lingering in your mouth, as if you were absorbing its essence through every five senses.

It was as if you were back in high school, making out under the bleachers, hiding from the rest of your classmates. You didn't want it to end, but reality intruded like a dream dispelled.

The click of a camera snapped you back to the present, his arms still wrapped around you protectively, hands on the damning evidence.

Gathered at the window there the team was, Garcia's fingers curled around her phone, its lens aimed squarely at you. Your surprised came out as a high-pitched squeal mingled with their distance laughter and cheers. You pressed your face into the fabric of Hotch's zip up, silently pleading for the earth to open up and swallow you whole.

"Next time, we'll opt for the bathroom. Less room for an audience."

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna

[karaeilishh]

YOU CAN SHOW ME b.eilish

“faster, babe, fuck…” billie’s eyes are ablaze with lust as she watches you bounce on her cock like a fucking bunny. your hands rest on her hips for support, squeezing her soft skin. your breasts bounce for her. your mouth is dry from the constant sighs and pornographic moans coming out of your mouth every few seconds.

her gaze drops down between your bodies, where your pussy greedily devours her strap. her lips slowly open, allowing her to take a deep breath. you’re too caught up in your pleasure to notice until she starts whining softly. 

“what are you looking at?” your hand falls to her neck, squeezing, forcing her to look into your eyes. billie is silent for a few seconds, leaving the slapping of your skin the only audible sound in your bedroom. oh, it pisses you off that she’s decided to shut up now. with a sharp thrust, you lower your body onto hers, strap completely buried in your pussy. she whines, deprived of the sight. 

“fuck, if you could only see how filthy that pussy is when you take my cock…” the desperation she sounded as she said it made you chuckle. you lean towards her, biting her earlobe. “you can show me…”

your hands reach for her phone, lying on the other end of the bed. you quickly open the camera app, holding it out to her. there’s a hint of uncertainty in her eyes, like she can’t quite believe you’re actually asking her to film this. “come on, do it.”

you begin to rise up and down on her cock again, doing it slowly, painfully. billie takes the phone with trembling hands, pointing the camera at you. her hand flies to your hip, urging you to move faster. your loud moans fill the room, mixing into one melody. 

as your orgasm approaches, your movements become sloppy, unsteady, your eyes begging her to help you. billie lifts her body, starting to slam her hips into you. her abs are tight as her hips slap against yours. you literally fall on top of her, causing her to throw the phone away, leaving only the sounds of your bodies on the recording. 

you’ll definitely watch this video later.

tags: @chrissv4mp, @hkkuugu, @sweet3nerrr, @krosep, @stonerfromlesbos, @loveyoumatthewbernard, @47lake

[wannaeatramyeon]

Gun Park x Reader: Feverish Confessions

G/N. 1.8k. You kindly take care of Gun. Soft. Masterlists

You were under the notion that Gun Park could not get ill.

That his antibodies also had ultra instinct and there was no virus strong enough to even consider invading his body.

But alas, you found out he was human when you discovered him unsteady on his feet, pink cheeked and sweat sheened.

"You ok?" You ask, reaching out the back of your hand to feel his forehead.

"Don't touch me," he says without any of his usual bite. That was the first warning sign.

The second one comes when he fails to dodge your grasp and you do make contact with his skin.

"You're burning up."

"I'm not."

"You're ill."

"I'm not."

"You're being a child "

"I am not."

.

.

You decide the best course of action is to get Gun home. He's in no fit state to find his own way back and Goo is no help. In fact, no one is any help at all when Gun's energy quickly drains and he struggles to stay upright.

"How fucking heavy are you," you grit out, trying to push his weight off you.

"Fuck you," Gun mutters as Goo whispers something to Kouji and he snorts.

"Poor oppa," Crystal titters, a smirk on her face, watching you both with sharp eyes.

"Fuck you," Gun now directs in her general direction.

"Yeah, fuck you all," you snap in agreement, staggering under the heft of his body.

.

.

With a strength and patience you didn't know you possessed, you wrestle him into the passenger seat of your car and drive Gun home at breakneck speed.

He murmurs, delirious fever-induced ramblings, between laboured breaths as you hum in response, keeping your attention on the road.

To your surprise, you catch him speaking your name and each time your eyes flicker to his, you find him staring at you, even if his own eyes appear glazed and unfocused.

Gun repeats your name again, like a question.

"Nearly home," you tell him as a way of comfort and seemingly appeased, he doesn't say anything else.

.

.

"All that money and you still live in a junkyard," you comment, holding on to his arm around your shoulder and the other around his waist, slowly ambling towards his shack.

"Shut up."

"I'll shut up when you don't live in a shit hole anymore."

"Shut up."

"Make me," you stop in your tracks and send a cocky grin his way.

Gun, in his weakened condition, only manages to glare back.

"That's what I thought."

"I said shut up."

.

.

Gun collapses into bed, or more accurately you try and throw him off you and hope for the best that he lands onto a more comfortable surface.

You take in his sorry state and actually find yourself feeling sympathy for him. All that money and power but when it comes down to it, who is there to look after him when he needs it? It's a lonely existence.

(Not that you're faring any better but you push that thought out of your mind.)

"Don't you dare kick me," you warn, bending to take off his shoes.

"Stop," he moans, barely lucid and you know that if he was any healthier, you would have been booted in the side of the head.

You look at him again and probably against your better judgement, decide your next move.

"I swear I'm not taking advantage of you," you say, holding your hands up to show you mean no harm and making quick work of his clothes - unbuttoning his shirt and his slacks and removing his socks.

Gun doesn't respond and he doesn't fight you. You know this looks questionable. Undressing an unconscious person is never a good sign. Except he's lying there with his flushed cheeks and clammy forehead, fringe flopping down and sticking to his face and you couldn't help but feel a surge of warmth for him.

Once he's down to his underwear, you tuck him under the covers.

You hum to yourself, feeling for his forehead again. Gun groans under your touch but he's no worse than this morning.

.

.

Gun's pantry, despite the threadbare surroundings, is exceptionally well stocked.

You know from your many outings together of his high standards though you didn't expect that he was much of a cook himself. Of course, you should have known that Gun Park doesn't do anything by halves.

After rooting through his cupboards and drawers, you find what you need. You cover a saucepan with rice and adjust water levels according to the length of your finger knuckle, seasoning it with various spices and adding ingredients from his fridge.

What you're doing for him is above and beyond. You've already assured his comfort, cooking him rice porridge is unnecessary, and you can imagine unappreciated-

However, you think of all those times you've been out with Gun and Goo, drank more than your fair share of Soju and Gun is the one who has delivered you safely home; Gun’s cruel taunts when you come back from fights with bruises and cuts and his disparaging comments even as he makes time to train you to be a better fighter; how Gun never snaps at you the same way he does Kouji, or talk to you how he does Crystal, or treat you how he does Goo and-

Well. Maybe he does deserve a little of your kindness.

.

.

An hour later, just as the sun starts to dip below the horizon and you’ve had more than your fill of doom scrolling - the rice porridge is ready.

You spoon a small bowl for Gun and set it on his nightstand.

“Who are you?” comes Gun’s croaky voice, hand shooting forward and snatching at your wrist.

“It’s me,” you say, “And be careful you don’t knock this off.”

HIs grip lessens but he doesn’t let go. “Knock what off?”

“I made you food,” you sit down on the bed next to his lying form.

“Why?”

“What do you mean why, look at you!” 

“What do you want?”

“Nothing, don’t be an asshole.”

Two blinks, then - “Why are you taking care of me?”

“Because!” you huff, feeling your face flush.

“Do you like me?” Gun asks, and the question is so left field you’re reeling. You don’t have a chance to respond or even collect your thoughts before he continues on in his fever haze.

“I caught a fragrance the other day that smells exactly like you. It’s odd that I know this.” He looks towards the ceiling, mind a blur of thoughts.

“When did I start to hoard these facts like a pathetic idiot? I barely know who you are, what you like and what you dislike. And yet I look at you and I can tell exactly what you're thinking."

"Can you do the same to me?" Gun turns to look at you, eyes a dull bronze and you forget to breathe. There’s a startling clarity as his gaze pierces yours. 

“Wh-what?” You stammer at his sudden confession, the sight of his natural eyes leaving your sanity further hanging by a thread. Did he just- Did he mean?

“Maybe not.” The clarity fades. Gun closes his eyes and finally lets go. "Only a fool wouldn't be able to tell."

"Oh." Then you add, “Am I a fool?”

"Only a fool would like another fool."

.

.

The bowl of rice porridge is left uneaten. 

.

.

You watch Gun, coughing in his sleep, and message Crystal that you won’t make it into work the next day.

.

.

That night, you’re left alone with your thoughts.

Gun’s timeworn sofa digging into your back and his jacket as a make-shift blanket keeping you warm.

It smells like him. Of course it does, it’s his. But you realise you recognise his scent too.

.

.

Gun spends the next day floating between half-conscious and sleeping. He no longer has any burst of energy to compose his thoughts or spill his desires.

You check in on him every now and then, pleased when you find his bowl empty and refilling it each time. 

You hand searches for his forehead. It never fails to smooth the furrow between his brow as he murmurs your name in his sleep.

.

.

It’s sort of funny how those few words changed how you look at this man.

The other day he was a pain in your backside, and you could have sworn you were one in his too.

You’ve lost count of the amount of times you wanted to punch him for his scathing remarks, that arrogant glint in his eyes, that smirk on his face.

Yet now, those feelings don’t really lessen, but you wonder if Gun would keep smirking or would he shut up if you kissed him instead.

.

.

Crystal: Assume you’re not coming into work tomorrow?

Y/N: Sorry, Gun still looks bad.

Goo: Gun????????

Goo: You’re shacking up with Gun????

Y/N: What?????

Y/N: No!!!

Y/N: I’m not shacking up with anyone!

Goo: Liar 

Kouji: Ok…

Kouji: But

Kouji: You’ve been skipping work to look after hyung?

Y/N: …

Y/N: No?

Y/N: Maybe…

Crystal: Yes you have

Goo: What!!! Nooooooo

Kouji: Pay up, Goo Kim. I was right.

.

.

Gun’s fever breaks the day after.

Your hand reaches out to feel his forehead and he opens his eyes, dark as night once more, to look at you.

“You’re still here?”

“I am,” You give him a smile when you feel his temperature back to normal.

He reaches up, large hand and long fingers wrapping around your own, and manoeuvres it down to rest your palm against his cheek.

“You’ve been here all this time?”

His fever has subsided, but the contact makes you feel like you’re on fire, “Yep.”

A hum, then “Good.” 

Gun leans into your hold, turning his head, the side of his lips lightly grazing your skin.

“Can you tell what I am thinking?”

You’re rewarded with a smile, small and serene, when you roll your eyes and tell him yes, and that you're both fools after all.

[purifiedclitoris69]

Don’t Hide

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x exhydra!reader

Slight angst and fluff/comfort

Summary: After a rough mission, you slip back into what your life use to be, what you were trained to do. Hiding away and spiraling Natasha’s there to comfort you.

The mission had gone sideways, but you’d survived worse. A nasty cut on your side and a few bruises wouldn’t stop you now. At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself as you carefully locked the bathroom door behind you. The adrenaline was still coursing through your veins, the whispers of Hydra training clawing at the back of your mind.

You’d been sharing this bathroom..a room, with Natasha for just a few months, the two of you navigating the delicate balance of a new relationship. It wasn’t easy—two broken people trying to make sense of something good for once—but you made it work. At least, most days. But tonight was different. You didn’t want her to see you like this.

You sat on the edge of the tub, carefully pressing a towel to the cut on your side, watching the blood seep through. Your hands shook, but you forced yourself to focus. Breathe. Patch it up and move on. That’s what they taught you. Never show weakness. Never ask for help.

In the quiet of the bathroom, the echoes of Hydra training were louder than usual. You weren’t *here*—you were back in those sterile rooms, under harsh lights, voices barking commands. You tried to shake it off, but the memories gripped you tighter. Your throat closed up, and suddenly, you couldn’t find your voice. The blood spilling out and covering your hands wasn’t your own anymore, it was that of your victims. The flashes of the cruel deaths you inflicted. The dozens of assassinations, slaughters.

Outside, Natasha had just returned from her own mission, tired but relieved to be back. She was looking forward to unwinding with you, maybe sharing quiet moments in the space you now called yours. But the minute she stepped into your shared room, she knew something was wrong.

The faint scent of blood hit her nose, and her eyes darted toward the small droplets leading to the bathroom. Her heart sank. You were hurt. Worse, you were hiding it from her.

She crossed the room swiftly, her own exhaustion forgotten. When she reached the bathroom door, she knocked, a firm but controlled sound. "Y/N?" Her voice was steady, though there was a hint of concern. "Can you open the door?"

You froze, your hands trembling more now. You didn’t want her to see this, to see you like this. Weak. Silent. You were meant to be a ruthless killer, the perfect soldier. You tried to stand, to clean up the blood before she could come in, but your knees buckled under the pressure.

"Y/N," Natasha continued, a slight edge and frustration creeping into her tone. "What happened out there, let me in.”

Your mind raced, Hydra’s voice overlapping with hers. Don’t let anyone in. Turn it off. Don’t show any vulnerability, any emotion, or you will be punished. You gritted your teeth, the walls around you closing in. Your breath hitched, and suddenly you couldn’t respond. The words were there, but they wouldn’t come.

Natasha, on the other side of the door, was getting worried. The silence on the other side was too familiar—the kind of silence born out of fear or pain. She knocked again, a little louder this time. "Y/N, open the door, right now, I’m serious. I need to see if you’re okay."

She wasn’t yelling, not really, but the firmness in her voice felt like too much. Like an order. Your chest tightened, and the panic swelled, pushing you deeper into the memories. The room blurred as your pulse raced. You messed up this mission, you didn’t follow orders, you should expect repercussions. All you could hear now were the commands from long ago: “stay quiet, fix it yourself, don’t be a liability.”

When Natasha heard the shallow, unsteady breaths through the door, she knew. This wasn’t just about the injury. She knew that sound—it was the sound of you slipping into something darker, something that haunted both of you. Her own frustration faded, replaced by the urgent need to help you.

She carefully jimmied the lock, opening the door slowly, not wanting to startle you. And when she saw you, sitting on the bathtub, bloodied and shaking, her heart broke. You were trying so hard to patch yourself up, but it was clear you were far from okay. The familiar signs of an episode setting in—shaky hands, heavy breathing, racing heart, visions of the past blending with the present.

Natasha crouched in front of you, her movements deliberate, not touching you but close enough for you to feel her presence. Her voice softened, calm but insistent. "Hey, it’s me. You don’t have to do this alone. You’re not back there. You’re here, with me."

Her words cut through the fog, but barely. Your hands were shaking too hard now, and the towel you were using to stop the bleeding slipped from your grip. Tears welled in your eyes, as you clenched your jaw hard enough to crack teeth, willing yourself to keep them at bay. You tried to tell her you were fine, but your voice wouldn’t cooperate. The training, the trauma—it was all rushing back too fast.

Natasha sighed softly, guilt tugging at her for being stern earlier. "I’m sorry I got loud. I just… I needed to know you were okay."

You blinked, trying to hold back the tears, but Natasha saw them anyway. Her gaze softened even more, the concern etched into her face. She moved slowly, standing and carefully taking the towel from you. "Let me help, okay?"

You didn’t protest this time. The panic was still there, the memories still too close, but Natasha’s presence grounded you. She pressed the towel to your side gently, her touch reassuring, her focus entirely on you.

As she worked to clean the wound, she spoke softly, not to ask questions or pry, but just to remind you she was there. "I know you’re used to handling things on your own. But we’re a team now. You don’t have to hide this from me." She softly cleaned the cuts in your face too, applying bandages and ointments.

Her words made something inside you shift, a tiny crack in the armor you’d built. You nodded, your breath still shaky but steadier now. The room felt a little less suffocating with her by your side.

When she finished patching you up, Natasha finally met your gaze, cupping your face "We’ll figure this out together, okay?"

You nodded subtly, eyes still distant, you mumbled something inaudible.

she kissed the top of your head and held you against herself, “I love you.” she whispered so softly.

“I love you too, pretty girl,” you answered against her, bring your arms to wrap around her waist and hold her ever so gently.

The tension in your body begins to ease as she softly runs her fingers through your hair, her touch grounding you. She doesn’t push, doesn’t ask you to talk, just sits with you, her presence a quiet reassurance.

Her voice is low and soothing as she hums softly, her hand tracing calming circles on your scalp. Slowly, the chaos in your mind begins to fade, the safety of her touch allowing you to breathe a little easier. She stays like that, holding you through the storm, a silent promise that you’re not alone.

For the first time that night, you felt like maybe—just maybe—you didn’t have to face this battle alone.

[luckybunny001]

“It only took a moment…”

(Mouthwashing Daisuke x Mechanic! Reader)

The crew had been stranded in space for what felt like an eternity—food supplies dwindling, hope fading.

Curly, their captain, lay immobile in the medical bay, a constant reminder of their dire circumstances.

Jimmy, the co-captain, ruled with an iron fist, belittling everyone and taking advantage of Curly’s condition.

Anya, the ship’s nurse, fluttered nervously around them, her eyes darting whenever Jimmy came near.

Swansea, the tough-as-nails mechanic, had taken Daisuke under his wing but seemed to grow increasingly frustrated with him.

“Just pull yourself together, Daisuke,” he would say, his gruff voice echoing in Daisuke’s mind.

But now, sitting on the floor, Daisuke felt anything but together. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the swirling thoughts that accompanied his tipsy state.

Suddenly, he heard footsteps approaching.

Panic gripped him, and he quickly wiped at his eyes, hoping to hide the evidence of his inebriation. But as he opened his eyes,

Reader appeared in the dim light, her silhouette framed by the flickering overhead. She looked down at him, concern etching her features.

“Daisuke?” she said softly, kneeling beside him. “What’s wrong? You look… off.”

He forced a smile, trying to mask his feelings. “I’m fine! Just… taking a little break, you know?” His voice was unsteady, betraying the bravado he was trying to project.

Reader frowned, her brow creasing with worry. “You don’t look fine. Are you sure you’re okay?”

He felt the walls closing in around him, the weight of the ship’s uncertainty pressing down on his chest. “Really, I’m—” But before he could finish, the dam broke. Tears, pooling at the corner of his eyes as he quickly squeezed them shut to prevent them to fall but to no avail as he felt the sting grow more as the tears escaped his eyes.

Reader’s expression shifted from concern to immediate empathy. She quickly wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. You’re safe. Just breathe.”

Daisuke buried his face in her shoulder, the warmth of her body grounding him as he let the tears flow freely. He felt embarrassed and vulnerable, but there was something about Reader’s presence that made it feel safe to let it all out.

The warmth of her concern was like a beacon in the darkness that surrounded him, and suddenly, the weight of everything crashed down. “I… I’m sorry, Reader,” he choked out, his voice cracking. “I just… I feel like such a loser. I can’t do anything right.”

“Daisuke, you’re not a loser,” Reader said firmly, rubbing his back in soothing circles. “You’re one of the most optimistic people I know. It’s okay to feel overwhelmed. We’re all struggling right now.”

“I thought I could handle it,” he continued, his voice shaking. “I thought I could be helpful, but all I’ve done is mess things up. I can’t even—” He choked on his words, the shame washing over him like a tidal wave. “I drank mouthwash! I can’t even do that right.”

Reader pulled back slightly to look him in the eye, her gaze steady and unyielding. “Listen to me. You’re not defined by this moment. None of us are. We’re in a tough spot, and it’s okay to not be okay. You’re trying, and that counts for something. You bring light to this ship, Daisuke. You really do.”

He sniffled, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “But Curly… and Jimmy… and Swansea… they all think I’m just a burden.”

“Curly is in a bad place, and Jimmy… well, he’s just Jimmy,” she said, her voice filled with a mix of frustration and sympathy. “And Swansea? He’s tough because he cares. He sees potential in you, but it’s hard for him to show it right now. You’re not a burden. You’re part of this crew, just like the rest of us.”

The mention of Curly brought a fresh wave of pain to Daisuke’s heart. The captain had been a beacon of kindness, now reduced to a shadow of his former self. “I just wish things were different,” he murmured as Daisuke took a shaky breath, absorbing her words. “But what if we don’t make it? What if we run out of food and… and…”

Reader’s eyes softened, and she cupped his face in her hands, forcing him to meet her gaze. “We will make it.” Reader said, squeezing his shoulder reassuringly. “But crying won’t help. We need to be strong for each other, especially now.”

Daisuke leaned against her, the warmth of her body grounding him in a way he desperately needed. “How do you stay so strong?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

“It’s not easy,” she admitted. “But I remember why I’m here. I think about the people I care about — like you, Daisuke. You make it worth it. And I know you can be strong too.”

He swallowed hard, her words wrapping around him like a comforting blanket. “I want to be strong. For you. For the crew.”

“Then let’s do it together,” she said, her eyes shining with determination. “We’ll figure this out. One day at a time.”

As the tension began to ease, Daisuke felt the crushing weight of despair lift, if only slightly. “Thanks, Reader. You always know what to say.”

“Just don’t bottle it up next time, okay?” she said, a small smile playing on her lips. “You can always talk to me. I’m here for you.”

Daisuke nodded, a sense of relief washing over him. “I will. I promise.”

Before he could think twice, he leaned in and hugged her tightly, grateful for her support. She hesitated, then wrapped her arms around him, holding him close.

In that moment, surrounded by the uncertainty of space and the weight of their situation, Daisuke felt a sense of belonging that had eluded him for so long.

Maybe it was with her… he didn’t know.

They were lost, yes, but together, they could navigate the abyss.

As the ship drifted silently through the cosmos, two hearts found solace in each other. And for the first time in a long while, Daisuke believed that perhaps, just perhaps, there was a way forward.

Unfortunately… that wasn’t possible for one of them at least….

[mbsneur]

Heated Night

Leah Williamson x Reader

Hey, my loves! I'm so sorry I haven't posted all week. I've been really sick and I'm still not 100% but I really hope you like the fic! I'm open to feedback and your opinion. I'd also love to hear your ideas about which players I should write about (and the topics) my requests are always open. Thanks so much! 🩵

Warnings: Smut18+ minors DNI, Virgin Lesbian sex

My Masterlist

The night is hot and hazy. Arsenal won the WSL Cup with a goal from Stina in the 116th minute. You went to a nearby club to celebrate. You and your win are the talk of the town. You're the chick from Arsenal. Everyone looks out for you more than themselves. That's how it is when you're 19 and moving from a small country to a big one.

There are a few of you out there who can't hold it in and are already visibly drunk, including Leah.

Leah was the first person to take you in a few months ago, she showed you the city, the best cafes, the best restaurants, she has become something of a confidante to you, she was very self-absorbed that night, she drank a lot, and every time you wanted a little more, Katie took the glass from your hand and gave you something with less alcohol in it.

Kyra has pulled you away from Katie and towards the bar, "I'm sure you need more alcohol," she says, grinning and ordering two Daiquiris without hesitating.

You had a few more cocktails, she literally wanted to get you drunk, when you had more alcohol in your system, Kyra pulled you onto the dance floor and occasionally uttered chopped up words.

She stumbled over her own feet a few times, which made you laugh. Every now and then, Alessia came to you to bring you more and more alcohol. You got warm, your blood got thicker in your veins, your body got heavier and more excited. You haven't been this drunk for a long time.

Kyra was right there with you the whole time, and you saw Leah swaying in Laia's arms. She lifted her head from Laia's shoulder and met your gaze. Before you could react, Alessia nudged you and gave you another drink.

The time flew by until Kim pulled you into the group by your arm and Beth held Leah "You're both drunk, go to bed and sleep it off, mh" Kim said caringly and Leah's eyes rolled in annoyance "Leah, you're going to take Y/N to her room safe and sound, can you do that? Can you take care of her?" Beth frowned and looked at Leah, Leah's eyes widened, "Yes, I'll take her to her room safe and sound," Leah said with a smile, "Come on, sweetheart," she added, taking you by the hand.

"Take care of her," Beth calls after you, she pulled you out of the party crowd and was visibly unsteady on her feet, your hotel had no lift as you reached the stairs, Leah looked over at you, "can you manage on your own," she says, mumbling and stuttering, your vision spins and you shrug your shoulders. "Get on my back," she says with a grin, and you start to laugh out loud.

"Ey, why are you laughing, I'm strong," she says, frowning, "you're drunk," you stammer, and Leah starts to laugh at you.

You grip the railing and Leah leans forward. "Come jump and hold on tight." You move over to her and put your hands on her shoulders. You jump up slightly and her hands wrap tightly around your thighs. Leah starts to wiggle on her legs and you hold on to the railing with a jerk. You laugh and say, "Are you sure you can do this?"

Leah leans up and puts one foot on the step. "I'm drunk, but I can carry 60kg up the stairs."

You laugh at her words.

The walk up took half an eternity and when you got to the top, Leah let you down gently, "What room are you in?" she asks, looking straight into your eyes, "3048," you say shakily, your eyes flickering, "I'm taking you, I told Kim and Beth you'd be fine in your room," she says, holding your arm lightly, you nod and head for your room.

You hold your card against the sensor, and Leah helps you into the room. She wraps her arms around your waist and kicks the door shut with her foot. She takes you to your bed and sits you down. You look at her with puppy dog eyes and she say "I'll help you undress." She laughs and says, "Okay i start with your shoes." She bends down and helps you remove your shoes.

Leah bends up again and asks, "Do you want to sleep without a shirt?" You nod, and she grabs the hem of your shirt and pulls it up. You lift your arms up, and she comes closer to you. She removes the shirt from your head and almost falls on top of you. She starts laughing and looks deep into your eyes. Her gaze is bold, fixed on your full breasts in a red lacy bra. Her eyes darken, and her lower lip slips between her teeth. Your jaw drops, and Leah looks back into your eyes.

"You'd better not look at me like that," she says hoarsely, your eyes rolling from the alcohol at the back of your head, and you reply hazily, "What happens if I do?

Leah's teeth clench tightly before she presses her lips firmly against yours. Your kiss is firm and lasts for a few seconds until Leah pulls away first and rests her forehead against yours. You grab her neck and pull her lips back onto yours.

Your kiss is more intense this time and your tongue presses against her lips, as if asking for entrance. Leah, let your tongues play with each other. You let out a little moan until Leah lets go of you. "Are you sure? I don't want you to feel like a woman for a one night stand," she says, mumbling and looking at you confused.

"I've never had sex with a woman before," you say, blushing. Leah smirks slightly at you. "Do you want me to be the first woman to fuck you?" she says, her voice harsh. Her index finger plays with your bra strap.

"Please leah, fuck me," you demand, and Leah moves away from you. "You'll be good for me. You understand. You'll undress and wait for me. I'll be right back." She turns her back to you, takes your and her room card, and stumbles out of your room.

You did as you were told and stripped naked. Your vision is blurred and your head is spinning.

After a few minutes the door to your room opens and Leah returns with her strap-on in her hand, "Listen carefully, I am going to tell you some of my rules since you are a virgin," she says with a slight smile, sitting down next to you on the bed.

You nod and lean against the headboard. Leah now hovers over you and slowly begins to kiss your shoulder blade. "Tell me if you want me to be gentle with you or if you want me to be rough," she says between kisses. Your breathing is heavy and you try to find the right words. "I want you to be rough. Don't hold back," you say, moaning slightly and feeling Leah's teeth on your bone.

"You'll tell me if it's too much for you and if you want me to stop, I don't want to push you into anything, OK?" she says looking up at you briefly you nod eagerly and Leah's brow furrows "That's another rule, when I ask you something I expect an answer, use your words," she says now taking your breast in her hand, your back arching slightly from the bed "Oh, is someone sensitive? she asks with a grin

She takes your other nipple between her teeth and nibbles lightly on it. You spread your legs without hesitation and Leah's head now wanders over your belly. Your fingers claw into the sheets and your muscles twitch with every kiss.

She grabs your thighs and spreads them wide open, giving her better access to you. She looks at you one last time and asks, "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. Now, please, just fuck me," you say, your voice desperate. Leah smirks at that, her tongue shooting out right against your core.

You haven't had sex for a long time, Leah explores every inch of your pussy and eats you out. Your hips bounce against her mouth and your legs start to wriggle. Leah's muscles push your legs apart again and she hits every spot that is celebrating inside you.

She's teasing you with her tongue, making your head roll back and turning your whimper into a moan. You're experiencing sensations you've never felt before, and you're a moaning mess.

Leah knows exactly how to drive you to the edge. With every suck, snap, and lick, her movements bring you closer and, You're already dangerously close. You try to find words, but they fail you. Instead, you moan and press your hips closer to her face. And try to tell her somehow that you are coming, Leah will look at you and hum to you, take it as confirmation and let your body respond to your orgasm.

You moan her name as she takes you through your long orgasm, your legs trying to close but held in place by Leah. You're consumed by her, and you don't know when the new orgasm started and the old one stopped. Your moans turn into whimpers, Leah. Let's go from you. You cry out from the sudden separation. She looks at you. Her lips are swollen and wet. Her eyes are darkened and her breathing is heavy.

She slowly comes up to you and you feel her breath on your lips. "Can I kiss you?" she asks in a low voice. You answer with a simple yes and,Leah's lips immediately land on yours

You let out a low growl at the taste on Leah's lips. After a few minutes, she looks at you again. "Are you riding me? Do you think you can do that for me?" she demands, her grin smug and confident.

I don't know if I can do this," you say, blushing, and Leah smiles at you, "You will, you will be a good girl, I will help you," she says, brushing a strand of hair from your face. You nod and wait for the next move. Leah gets up to put on the strap. You watch her every move. Her body is sweaty and her nipples are visible through her sports bra. Her veins are popping out. Her stomach muscles twitch with every movement. Her ponytail is all messed up, and individual hairs stick to her temples.Your eyes light up when you look at her. That was always the case, there was something about Leah that fascinated you.

When she's finished, you slide to the side to make more room for Leah. She sits down right next to you, leans against the headboard and hits her thighs as a sign for you to sit on her lap. You do as you're told and swing one leg over her muscular belly. She moans slightly as she feels your still-wet pussy on her stomach. She puts her hands on your hips and looks at you. "Are you ready?" she says, her voice firm. She lifts you slightly, her eyes sharp. "Your words, darling," she says, her tone assertive. Your eyelids twitch. "Yes, Leah, I'm ready," you reply, your voice steady. She smiles, her gaze warm. "Good girl," she whispers.

She guides you to sit on the tip of her strap and you moan in pleasure. Your hands find their way to her belly to support yourself. Leah's gaze is fixed on your pussy until she lets you close her strap completely. You whimper against her, and she starts to move your hips forwards and backwards. Her mouth is open, but you just sit up and want to ride her yourself. You don't need Leah's help. You want to prove something to her.

she keep her hands on your hips as you place yours on hers, moving a little faster than Leah has instructed. You rock back and forth quickly, which makes Leah let out a little whimper. Her hands loosen and reach for your arse, and your hands move up to her breasts, gently squeezing them. You lean forward ever so gently.

Leah's moans get louder and so do yours, your hips moving in time, your stomach muscles beginning to tense and your legs trembling "You look so hot right now," Leah says moaning, grabbing your neck to make you look at her. "Oh my, Leah, it feels so good," you say, your cheeks flushed and a little whimper escaping your lips. Your eyes roll back in your head, and Leah's grip on your neck tightens. You dig your nails into her sports bra, and Leah slowly starts to move her hips.

You feel Leah's legs cramping underneath you, your pussy tightening around her strap and you let out the loudest moan of the night "I'm so close" you manage to say "come on my cock make a mess" Leah says moaning as she pulls you closer to her by the neck. After a few seconds, you come loudly on her cock. You feel your juices running down your thighs. Your legs shake and wobble uncontrollably. You can't hold yourself properly anymore. Leah's hand leaves your neck and goes to your hips again. She holds you tight and sits up, pressing her upper body against yours so you can hold on to her neck.

"I need a little more. Don't stop moving," she demands, moaning. Your noises become oversensitive. Your legs are still shaking, and Leah's lips are on your shoulder to hold back her moans. She pushes you against her again and again. After a few pushes, Leah comes too. She comes silently, her teeth biting into your shoulder. Her legs are weak, and she lets herself fall on her back.

Her strap is still inside you and she is out of breath. You move off her slowly and deliberately, taking care not to overstimulate yourself. You sit down next to her, and when she wants to take off her strap, you grab her hand.

"Leah, wait, I want to clean you up," you say through clenched teeth, and Leah laughs devilishly at you, "You want to do that, yes, then I hope you will make an effort," she says again bossily. There is no time to waste and you immediately kneel down between her legs as Leah's hands grab hold of your hair and guide you closer to her strap.

You take her cock a bit into your mouth and Leah pushes your head further down. Your hands rest on her thighs. Your mouth starts to get faster. With every thrust, the strap hits Leah's clitoris. You look up at her. You have never seen her as vulnerable as she is at this moment. Her mouth opens and out of it comes a lot of little whimpers.

Leah pushes your head down deeper and faster. You gag and spit flows out of your mouth and lands on Leah's stomach. Tears come to your eyes and Leah starts to moan properly this time. "You're doing so well. You're gonna make me cum," she says. You take it as an incentive and let the strap slide deeper into your throat with a deep moan. Leah cums.

„Are you sure this is the first time you've had sex with a woman?" she says laughing and looks at you, "Are you calling me a liar?" you say snappishly, "Bathtub?" Leah asks and you agree.

[oceantornadoo]

part three outlaw!simon x f!reader who was supposed to marry johnny 🥲

simon is about to cause a scandal and get you kicked out of this town on account of adultery.

you told him he could visit you on your saloon shift, see what the town’s like. what you did not tell him is that everyone thinks you have a fine upstanding citizen for a husband, not an outlaw covered in black head-to-toe. he’s been nursing a whiskey for the past hour, haunting the last barstool in a corner, angled perfectly with his back to the wall.

he touches you everytime you pass him. a guiding hand on your waist when you saunter by with a tray of drinks. tucking your hair back into your updo as you become increasingly frazzled with a busy saturday night. even tightening the ties of your apron one time while you were talking to a customer, their eyes bugging out at the sight.

it would be fine if the public knew he was your husband - but johnny’s ring lays tucked into your nightstand and on account of simon’s gloves, you look like a cheater. an adulteress, committing sin in an already sinful establishment. you can see the church ladies signing the cross, see your neighbors muttering under their breath. it all comes to a head when the town rake decides to engage this shadowy figure of confusion that everyone is wondering about.

“does doin’ all that finally mean she’s out from her husband?” he introduced himself to simon, some forgettable name, and simon’s already wishing for the solitude of the mountains and grassy plains again. “wot?” the stranger’s so close simon can smell the liquor on his breath, can see the unsteadiness of his stature. he nods to you, taking orders in the corner of the saloon. “she’s not wearin’ her ring and your hands are on her, so that mean she’s outta that marriage? never even saw the man, guessed ‘e stepped out on ‘er.” simon couldn’t explain the situation to him, the stranger’s brain so stupidly drunk he couldn’t comprehend. so, the course of action was exactly that; action.

you were turning around, ready to holler at the singular cook in the saloon’s kitchen, when two meaty paws yanked into a body. you immediately resisted, too used to fighting the world at every turn, before you heard his voice. “just me, darlin’. settle down.” you hated how you immediately relaxed, shoulders drooping. simon yanked you into his side, eyes not on you but some man at the bar. “simon, you’re makin’ a scene.” he looked down at you, raising an eyebrow while the rest of his face moved under his bandana. “you’d rather a scandal?” so he did understand what was going on. you shook your head vehemently, intrigued at his next move. he unfurled one of your hands on his chest, the left one, turning it so the saloon could see your bare ring finger. the crowd suddenly silenced, understanding something important was happening.

simon’s gloved hand slipped into his pocket, drawing out a cloth bag. from it he brought out a ring, something with a pretty diamond and a vintage look. you gasped at the sight, of the thought he was giving you a ring with history, not just one from the jeweler’s. gold was well known in the west, the lifeblood of new towns, but the design showed elegance and class, not just new money. he slipped it on your bare finger, pulling you in for a light kiss over his bandana. you couldn’t even reciprocate, too stunned at the publicity of his claim. you heard someone whoop and that was it, your crowd turning back to a better piece of gossip now that this was solved. “y’r not gettin’ pushed out of town on my account, love.” you nodded wordlessly, eyes darting to the heavy weight on your hand. “go’on and get me another whiskey, hm?” he sent you to the bar-top with a pat on the ass, and that was that.

—

a little fluff for yall

this is my outlaw simon in a song.

taglist (lmk if i forgot you or you want to be added!):

@chickennn-soupp

@vmaxis

@samanthamarkle92

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[lizzyiii]

His Lady Love (4)

pairing | aemond targaryen x vampire!mikaelson!reader

taglist | to be added to the taglist just add your username to this DOC ✨

word count | 4k words

summary | reader becomes lost in her thoughts. viserys dies, discussions with helaena, alicent, and aemond

tags | blood, violence, death, angst/no comfort (cuz no one knows she's a vampire), vampire powers, tensionnnnn, reader lowkey supports rhaenyra's claim, but she loves team green as if they're her family sooooo.

note | REMINDER: reader is just a teenage girl who wants her mommy, but is forced to be a blood-sucking vampire. also I haven't thought about the mikaelsons in a while and I just remembered how finn mikaelson was my favourite. #justiceforfinnmikaelson. he's so overhated for what?!!

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated ✨

𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 - 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

You were engulfed in confusion—terribly so. Confusion swirled within you like the smoky shadows of the Keep's halls. The unexpected kiss from Prince Aemond echoed in your mind, a fiery spark that ignited a torrent of thoughts as you navigated the labyrinthine passages of Maegor's hidden passageways heading towards Flee Bottom. Cloaked in shadow, you traversed the dimly lit tunnel—one you discovered long ago during the cold, shadowy days of your arrival in King's Landing. But as you slipped through the ancient stone corridors, your thoughts remained anchored to that fleeting moment when Aemond’s lips brushed against yours—intense yet tantalizingly soft.

The kiss was a sudden tempest, and the weight of it left you breathless. His strong, musky scent lingered in the air, a potent reminder of his presence, while his calloused fingers cradled your face with an unusual gentleness. You couldn’t help the unbidden smile that crept across your lips. drawing you further from the gravity of your circumstances. In those fleeting seconds, you felt like a simple girl, unburdened by the Mikaelson curse. You imagined yourself as the heroine of a fable, where a gallant prince would pursue his beloved, proclaiming his devotion before stealing a kiss—precisely as Aemond had done.

As you pressed on, a tavern's raucous laughter and the unmistakable aroma of ale and smoke guided your steps. It loomed ahead, a warm beacon against the chaotic backdrop of Flea Bottom. You pulled back your hood, exposure blossoming as you emerged into the dim light. Almost at once, a rather rotund man stumbled out, his unsteady gait hinting at the heaps of wine he’d consumed inside. Fat and flush, with a beard flecked with remnants of his last meal, he teetered on the brink of inebriation, blissfully unaware of the trap that awaited him. With a bleary gaze, he locked eyes with you, his drunken smirk betraying the more unsavory intentions that lurked beneath his merry facade.

Your heart raced—not with fear, but with mischief. Blood would be spilled tonight, but not yours. You softened your expression into a sweet smile, a mask of angelic innocence that belied your true intentions, as you approached.

His dull gaze sharpened upon your arrival, eyes widening as if you were a vision from the Seven’s very own realms. “You’re a pretty girl,” he slurred, the words tumbling from his lips like the last drops from an overturned flagon.

A soft laugh escaped you, a sound like wind chimes in a summer haze. “Am I?” you replied, your voice playful and melodious,.

The man nodded with fervor, his expression blissfully captivated. Beneath the dim lantern light, you could see the way his thoughts scrambled like rats, floundering beneath the weight of both drink and desire. With a teasing tilt of your head, you gestured toward a shadowy alleyway not far from the tavern's entrance. “Why don't you show me how pretty I am?” you beckoned, your tone flirtatious.

His swollen features broke into a foolish, drunken grin as he stumbled forward, entranced, unaware of the peril that followed too closely in your wake. Such was the way of men like him—lost beyond recovery in the coils of their own indulgences, ripe for the taking beneath the watchful eyes of gods indifferent to their fate.

As you entered the narrow alleyway, the shadows seemed to swell around you, encasing you in an ominous embrace. Before you could even turn around, the man's grimy hands, reeking of sour wine and desperation, were upon you, grasping and pawing at your garments.

A wave of revulsion threatened to rise within you, yet you steeled your resolve. Summoning your vampiric strength, with a swift motion, you shoved him hard against the damp stone wall, his body slumping in surprise.

He let out a raucous laugh, the sound echoing off the walls like a jester’s overplayed jest. You grimaced at the foulness of his breath, the acrid scent assailing your senses. “Oh, you’re a strong girl, are you?” he slurred, a foolish grin plastered across his round face.

“Indeed,” you replied, your voice laced with disinterest. Your gaze sharpened, intensity pooling in your crimson irises as you began to weave the threads of your compulsion. “Be silent and remain still.”

With each word, you could feel his will wavering, his body succumbing to your command as his laughter turned into a slack-jawed stupor. The stench of his unwashed skin assailed your nostrils, but it barely registered now as your fangs elongated, sharp and glistening in the hopeless half-light of the alley.

Leaning in close, you felt the rush of your animalistic urges surge through you as your fangs pierced the delicate flesh of his neck, finding the pulsing artery with ease. The man whimpered, his feeble sounds mingling with the night air, yet he made no effort to resist; he was a mere vessel now, a source of sustenance for your insatiable thirst. The bitter warmth of his blood coursed down your throat, igniting a mix of satisfaction and despair.

As you fed, your mind wandered unbidden to Aemond—the fleeting memory of the kiss you had shared igniting a spark of longing that warred with your harsh reality. In that moment, the illusion of being a normal maiden, one capable of love and tenderness, faded into the dark abyss of your existence. The truth clawed at you like a ravenous beast; you were a creature of the night, bound by a thirst that rendered your dreams of affection but a distant whisper.

A wave of sorrow crashed over you, its weight pressing heavy upon your heart. Tears pricked at your eyes, blurring your vision as despair settled deep within your soul. In a fit of anguish, you tore your fangs from his flesh, the act frenzied and primal, as you ripped through his throat. A sob escaped your lips, raw and aching, as you stepped back and allowed the lifeless form to crumple to the ground. Blood smeared across your jaw, a grotesque mark of your nature, but your thoughts strayed not to the corpse before you.

How cruelly fate had woven your path; Aemond, with his fierce spirit and brooding whispers, was a world beyond your grasp. Yet every stolen glance, every shared moment between you only served to deepen the agonizing contrast of your reality. You cast the dead man one last glance, his stillness a haunting reminder of your actions, before turning your back on the grim tableau. As you made your way back towards the Keep, you felt a solitary tear trace a path down your cheek—one more sign of your unfulfilled yearning, echoing in the vast silence of the night.

As you crossed the threshold into your chambers, the heavy atmosphere of despair clung tightly to your spirit. You searched for a damp cloth to cleanse yourself—tinged with the vivid crimson remnants of the blood you had once savored, now leaving a bitter taste in the pit of your stomach. Though the vampiric curse bestowed upon you allowed for days without rest, weariness prevailed, drawing you like a shadow toward your bed.

You felt the weight of your heart, heavy with sorrow and longing for the comfort of sleep—a refuge where you could escape the chains of your reality. Tomorrow, the court would buzz with intrigue and whispers, but you doubted you would leave your chambers. In those fleeting moments between wakefulness and dreams, perhaps you could imagine yourself as someone else—a maiden free of bloodlust, pure and deserving of Aemond's fierce devotion. In those dreams, you could be free. In those dreams, you would be whole.

As the lingering echoes of the previous night's woes finally faded, you stirred, your senses slowly awakening from a slumber that felt both unearthly and heavy with dreams. With a deep sigh, you pushed your head from the pillow, blinking against the fading light that spilled through the window. The sun had dipped lower on the horizon, casting shadows that danced across the stone walls of your chamber—a stark reminder that you had now squandered the day sleeping away.

With a reluctant grace, you rose from the silken sheets that embraced you, and wrung your hands through your tresses, managing to tame the wild locks that had battled against the weight of sleep. Yet, as you got dressed, a sense of urgency gnawed at you. You drew closer to the heavy oak door, intent on rejoining the world beyond its threshold. However, your fingers merely grazed the handle to reveal that it was stubbornly sealed.

Furrowing your brow in irritation, you exerted a bit more force, pulling at the handle, only to find it locked. A huff escaped your lips, and with a determined glare directed at the obstinate barrier, you pressed your hands against the frame, using your strength and pushed. The wood shuddered against your might, yielding at last, the door swinging open with a reluctant creak that echoed through the silence of the guest wing.

When you stepped into the hallway, an unsettling quiet enveloped you, the stillness stretching like an unseen net. You advanced cautiously, each footfall a reminder that something was amiss. Yet, you dismissed the haunting unease that prickled at your skin, shaking off the chill while you made your way forward, resolute in your purpose, as you sought Helaena’s chambers.

The atmosphere in Helaena’s solar was suffused with the same unsettling. The last rays of sunlight filtered weakly through the stained glass, casting muted colors that danced across the flagstones, but they did little to dispel the heaviness of the atmosphere. Helaena, draped in a gown of pale blue, sat by the window, her gaze lost in the distance, and her delicate embroidery forgotten on the chaise, threads of gold and silver glimmering like fleeting memories.

“Princess,” you ventured softly, stepping closer, your voice barely a whisper against the weight of the silence.

She turned slowly, her features—usually serene—now marred by a deep frown that spoke of profound grief. “Where were you?” Helaena’s voice, though devoid of accusation, dripped with a melancholy that made your heart ache.

“Confined in my chambers,” you replied, concern creasing your brow.

Her eyes drifted downcast, fingers twisting nervously together like the tangled threads of her abandoned work. “I am queen now,” she murmured.

Confusion washed over you, a furrow forming between your brows. “I don’t understand.”

“Father died last night,” she revealed, her voice hollow, as if she were reciting a grim tale rather than sharing a wound that plunged deep into the heart of House Targaryen. “Aegon’s coronation took place at midday.”

��Oh,” was all you managed, the weight of her words pressing down upon you like a winter frost.

You had never anticipated this so soon; the insatiable hunger for the Iron Throne had prompted a brutal and ruthless usurpation. The whispers of civil war—so distant and abstract until now—had materialized into a bitter reality. You settled beside her, the familiar warmth of your presence a fragile comfort amidst the tempest of her sorrow. Gently, you took one of Helaena’s hands in yours, your fingers intertwining. She squeezed your hand tightly, her grip a silent plea for strength, and you could feel the tremors of her despair ripple through the fragile connection that bound you together.

The sun had long dipped below the horizon, casting shadows across the Red Keep when you at last emerged from Helaena’s chambers. The weight of her weariness had pulled her into a restless slumber, leaving you with a restless heart. You meandered through the stone corridors, each echoing step leading you toward the chambers of the one whose counsel you desperately sought. Upon reaching the heavy oak door, you knocked gently, and a faint voice called from within, "Enter."

Pushing the door open, you stepped into the dimly lit chamber. The flickering flames of the hearth danced, casting a warm glow that played across the fine tapestries adorning the walls. Your eyes settled on the figure seated by the fire—The Queen, though perhaps now, the dowager Queen.

"Your Grace," you greeted, your voice laced with reverence.

Alicent turned, the light catching her features, her once bright eyes now shadowed with the weight of loss and duty. The depths of her large brown irises seemed to brighten with a flicker of comfort at your arrival, but the sorrow was unmistakable as she murmured your name. "I apologize for the constraints placed upon you. My father thought it best that all liege lords and ladies be confined to their chambers in light of recent events."

You nodded, empathy swelling in your chest as you took a seat beside her. "Helaena shared with me the tale of what transpired," you began cautiously, your gaze intent upon the queen's weary expression.

Alicent sighed, the sound heavy with grief. "The King," she spoke, pain sweeping over her like an ominous fog, “he spoke of Aegon, he named him as heir in his final moments.”

Your heart tightened at her words; skepticism gnawed at the edges of your mind. Could it truly be? "Yet, Your Grace," you ventured, a hint of disbelief coloring your tone, "the King had twenty-two years to declare Aegon as his rightful heir."

Alicent turned her gaze back to the fire, the flickering flames casting an ephemeral glow upon her face. The warmth that once radiated from her presence seemed dimmed, replaced with an aura of fragility. She drew a shaky breath. "Perhaps it is not a matter of time, but of choice," she murmured, her words weaving through the shadows of the room, "In that moment of despair, he grasped for certainty amidst the chaos.”

Certainty which embodied the drunken Aegon? A skeptical expression crossed your features, yet the desperation in the Queen’s gaze expressed to you that it was indeed the truth to her. Despite her conviction, you found yourself unable to fully surrender to her narrative. "Then why did Aegon’s coronation happen so quickly?" you challenged, the words falling from your lips like shards of ice.

For this, the Queen faltered. Her eyes slipped away, a slow shake of her head revealing the anguish that resided within. "If Rhaenyra were to ascend the throne, the lives of Aegon, Helaena, Aemond and Daeron would be forever in danger," she murmured, the words laced with the indoctrination of Otto Hightower.

You held a quiet disbelief in your heart. Rhaenyra, with her fierce spirit and benevolence, would not turn her blades against her half-siblings without provocation. Still, you understood the origins of Alicent’s dread. After all, Rhaenyra was married to Daemon, who was likely to see the children of Alicent as forever living threats to his wife's claim. Still, all thoughts of treachery were now ghosts in the face of Aegon's coronation.

“Will you accompany me to the Sept on the morrow?” Alicent's voice broke the silence, a quiet plea wrapped in a veil of vulnerability.

In that moment, you were swept away by a tidal wave of longing for your own mother. Before you embraced the demonic creature you had become, your mother had nurtured you with a love akin to that of a fallen star gracing the Earth. Now, you found solace in the fragile figure of Alicent Hightower, clinging to her presence as though she might fill the void left by your lost mother. With a gentle nod, you covered her slender hand with your own, "Of course, your grace."

The dawn’s light seeped hesitantly through the thick drapery of your chamber, casting a muted hue across the stone walls of the Red Keep. You stirred from restless dreams, where shadows danced ominously on the precipice of war. A chill licked the air, as if the very stones of Westeros mourned the blood that would soon be spilled. With a sense of foreboding, you rose before the sun had fully chased away the darkness.

Slowly, you donned a gown of soft lilac, the fabric whispering against your skin like the breeze that crept through the narrow window. You painstakingly braided your hair, arranging it delicately. Each movement was imbued with both purpose and trepidation, a ritual that anchored you amidst the chaos that brewed beyond the castle walls.

Before the winds of fate had cast you adrift in Westeros, you had known nothing of faith; the Norse gods of your childhood were mere tales spun by your parents, who were as skeptical of the divine as they were of the world outside their doors. In your past life, the gods felt distant, ethereal, and removed from the fervor of humanity. Yet here, in the heart of Westeros, how the world spun differently.

But within the regal presence of Queen Alicent, whose strength and grace reminded you of a lioness guarding her young, your skepticism began to erode. She embodied the devotion of the faith you had once dismissed; her prayers were filled with fervor as she sought to protect her kin and forge alliances among the houses of Westeros. In her company, you found solace in the faith of the Seven. To kneel before the Mother’s statue, adorned with offerings, was to partake in a ritual that tethered you to something greater, something almost palpable

You found solace in the quiet prayer sessions held in the Grand Sept, the flickering candles casting gentle silhouettes that danced like restless spirits against the stone. In the embrace of the faith, you discovered understanding of why mortals have always turned to religion: it was a way to combat the loneliness that often shrouded their hearts, a mechanism to find purpose and justification in their actions. Your fervent prayers often echoed the same request: a plea for safety—not only for the Targaryens, whose fates now intertwined with yours, but for the family you had left behind.

You prayed fervently for the Gods to soften Niklaus’ heart and lessen his wrath. You implored them to instill in Elijah the profound love he often failed to bestow upon himself. For Rebekah, you sought kindness; you yearned for her to see you not as competition, but her cherished sister. You called upon the heavens to grant Kol wisdom, challenging his rampant bloodlust that often clouded his judgment. And for your gentle Finn, trapped in the dark confines of a coffin wrought by Niklaus’s cruelty, you begged for respite—an end to his suffering and a chance to embrace his freedom at last. Your prayers extended toward your youngest brother, Hendrik, and for your beloved mother as well, who now resided among the stars in Heaven.

And even sometimes with a heavy heart, you whispered prayers for your father as well, pleading for mercy in the depths of his obsession, hoping that perhaps one day, he might find forgiveness before it consumed all the Mikaelsons.

Your thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a knock at your chamber door. Puzzled, you rose from your vanity, the delicate scent of jasmine lingering in the air around you. As you approached the door and opened it, your breath caught in your throat at the sight of Aemond standing there, his presence a commanding force. In that fleeting moment, your mind drifted back to the night years ago when a thirteen-year-old, tousled Aemond had appeared before you—so innocent, so unrefined. But now, the boy had transformed into a striking man, confidence radiating from him.

Time seemed to stretch as the two of you locked eyes, an unspoken weight hovering between you, memories of the kiss you shared two nights prior flooding your thoughts.

“May I come in?” he asked, shattering the spell that had enveloped you both. You nodded, albeit with a hint of hesitation, stepping aside to let him enter. His musky scent enveloped you, a wild and intoxicating aroma that stirred something deep within.

With a small pout lingering on your lips, you inquired, “What brings you here?”

“I came to see how you were faring,” he replied, standing awkwardly in the center of your dimly lit chamber, like the sun caught in the shadows.

You huffed softly, wrapping your arms around yourself, a protective gesture that belied your ancient nature. It was strange—centuries of existence coursing through your veins, a vampire of untold ages; yet here, in the presence of Aemond, you felt like a naïve girl enchanted by the shadows that danced between you.

You spoke with a raw honesty that felt both freeing and heavy, “I’ll confess,” you replied, your voice tinged with frustration, “I’m both surprised and vexed to find myself confined to this chamber all day, only to emerge and learn that the King is dead and Aegon has claimed the throne.” A sigh escaped your lips as you cast your gaze to the side, memories of your family washing over you like a forgotten tide. “I was always the last to know in my family as well."

Aemond stepped closer, a teasing smirk finding his lips, clearly amused by your candidness laced with sass. “I must take my leave shortly to secure Borros Baratheon’s allegiance,” he stated, his voice filled with formality, yet laced with something unspoken.

Your eyes locked onto his striking violet one, and you arched an eyebrow, “So?”

“In exchange for his support, the council has arranged my marriage to one of his daughters,” he murmured, letting the words hang between you like a dark omen, scrutinizing your reaction with utmost care.

"Oh," in that moment, it felt as if your heart had splintered into countless shards. You forced a nod, turning away to shield the tempest of emotions brewing within you, striving for a façade of indifference, “Such is your duty, then.”

“It is,” he admitted, positioning himself directly in front of you, a palpable intensity radiating from his presence. Yet, you continued to avoid his gaze, perhaps in a desperate bid to escape this reality. And as you remained steadfast in your gaze away from him, he added softly, “But when I arrive there, it is Daeron’s hand I intend to offer instead.”

Your heart raced at his declaration, the pulse quickening against the cage of your ribs, yet you still refused to meet look at him, “Why?” you whispered, the question barely escaping your lips.

Aemond softened his stance, his fingers brushing against your cheek as he guided your face to meet his gaze. “Look at me, sweet girl,” he implored, his voice now a low, fervent whisper, compelling you to meet the intensity of his unwavering stare. “Because the only woman in this realm that I wish to call my own is you.”

Pain flashed in your heart, a flood of emotions crashing over you as you furrowed your brows, your voice trembling with uncertainty. “Aemond…”

He leaned closer, placing a gentle kiss upon your forehead, a benediction of sorts. “We will discuss this further upon my return,” he murmured, his breath warming your skin.

With that, he turned away, departing into the shadows that awaited him beyond the door. Alone, you pressed your palms to your mouth, constricting a gut-wrenching sob that echoed in the hollow silence of your chamber, a lament for the hope that quickly flickered out like a dying candle.

next up, Aemond coming back from Storms End

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[unseededtoast]

I'd Wait For You | Spencer Reid x F! Reader

Summary: In which you find that a broken engagement leads you to the love of your life. (Friends to lovers)

Also cross-posted on Wattpad and AO3. Link to my masterlist for everything else I’ve posted

wc: 6.9k

"You have no idea how long I've waited for you." 

There is something weird in the air this morning, Spencer feels it the second he wakes up, but is unable to put his finger on what it is. As he goes about his morning routine he continues to ponder what this feeling could be from. He hadn't forgotten to turn in any papers, there is no rush to get to work, there is simply nothing going on that would cause this unsettling feeling that takes residence in his chest. But it persists nonetheless.

His commute to work is no better either, the sense of dread looms over him for no particular reason, and the anxiety causes him to pick at the skin around his nails, a bad habit he had stopped long ago. Spencer doesn't consider himself to be superstitious, but this is all beginning to feel a little foreboding to him. But he tries his best to mask the feeling as he walks through the familiar BAU doors, ready to distract himself with whatever tasks get assigned to him today.

The rest of the team shows up a few minutes later than he did, everyone taking their time to get settled at their desks. They had just returned from a case yesterday, so a day in the office is much appreciated.

The minutes slowly tick by and everyone but Spencer begins working on something, he just can't seem to focus today. Instead of trying to force himself to do work, he decides a cup of coffee might bring some sense of normalcy to the morning.

He picks his favorite mug and makes his coffee just as he usually does, but he takes his time stirring in the sugar, becoming entranced in the swirl within the cup as he stirs and stirs. Emily and JJ's voice outside the break room break his trance and he tosses the stir stick away as they walk in, happily talking about something.

"Did you hear?" Emily asks Spencer with a smile on her face. Spencer's eyebrows crease and he recalls the past few days, trying to remember if she is expecting good news. But he comes up short. With a shake of his head, he glances between the two.

"Hear what?" With his question, JJ turns her phone around to show Spencer a picture. As he realizes what is on her screen, he swears he feels his heart stop beating.

"She got engaged!" JJ exclaims, as if it's the best news she will hear all year. And while it might be the best news for her, it couldn't be worse for Spencer.

"About time too." Emily says, looking at Spencer expectantly. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he nods shortly.

"Yeah." He tears his eyes away from JJ's screen and brushes by the two of them to get out of the room as quickly as possible, forgetting his coffee on the counter.

Spencer swiftly walks through some of the quieter halls in the office until he finds a secluded conference room. With unsteady hands, he closes the door behind him and lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. His mind races with a hundred different thoughts at once, all of them revolving around the photo of you with a shiny ring on your finger.

Spencer should be happy for you, he should be over the moon that you had found happiness. But instead all he feels is sick to his stomach and like he had been kicked in the chest. He closes his eyes tightly, trying to keep tears at bay as he vividly remembers the moment he knew he was head over heels for you. It's a bittersweet memory for him, and one he thinks of quite often.

You had been on the team for a few months when Hotch assigned you and Spencer to put together the geographic profile together. You jumped at the opportunity, eager to learn something new, and he was excited to get to know you better. While the two of you worked together, Spencer couldn't help but notice the sweet smell of your perfume and how you nibbled on your lips as you concentrated. He found himself getting sidetracked by you more and more often, and couldn't help the pink flush of his cheeks whenever you glanced his way. It was on the third morning of working together when he realized that he had started to fall for you; the shiver that ran down his spine confirmed it as your hands brushed when you handed him a cup of coffee.

But that was four years ago, and nothing is the same.

As the memory fades, Spencer tries to pull himself together by straightening his tie and taking a few deep breaths. He's sure that Emily and JJ will have questions, but he's hoping they won't pry into the matter. Although he's sure that they've told everyone else how he ran off.

Once he feels like he's not going to cry at the mention of your name, he leaves the empty conference room and goes back to his desk where he has reports waiting for him. It's wishful thinking, but he hopes they offer some distraction from you. His foot taps with each pen stroke across the page, and he does his best to ignore Morgan's eyes staring at him a few feet away.

"You okay?" Morgan doesn't let Spencer ignore him any longer. With a sigh, Spencer puts the pen down and looks to Morgan, who appears to be studying every microexpression on Spencer's face.

"I'm fine." Spencer tries his best to keep his tone even and nonchalant.

"You don't seem fine." Spencer knows that Derek is just trying to be a good friend, and he appreciates that, but he knows he can't talk about what's bothering him here. Not in front of the team, and not in front of curious eavesdroppers. So to deflect the conversation away from what's really bothering him, Spencer gives a halfhearted answer just to be done with it.

"I guess I'm just ready for the weekend." Spencer quickly averts his gaze away from Derek's, his eyes catching the only photograph that resides on his desk.

It was a picture taken four years ago with the whole team, you had asked for a group photo before you left, and Spencer had printed one for himself as well. You were in the middle of the group, one arm wrapped around Spencer while the other wrapped around Emily. A wide, bright smile was on your face, but he knew if he looked hard enough he could see the tears you fought away, the same ones that broke loose immediately after the camera's flash.

Before you left you had admitted to Spencer that you didn't really want to leave, but your boyfriend had received a job offer he couldn't refuse, one that was across the country. Every bit of Spencer wanted to beg you to stay, but he knew how happy your boyfriend made you, and he couldn't bear to see you unhappy. So he swallowed his pride and encouraged you to go, to embrace new opportunities; but he made a point to let you know that you would always be welcomed back with open arms.

The night you left Spencer remembers how he cried for hours, looking at the photo and knowing that he would likely never see you again. He knew he would never be able to forget your smile, your kindness, and all of your quirks that he had fallen in love with over the years. His heart constricted with the thought of another man's hands on you, but he could only blame himself, for he had never found the courage to tell you how he really felt.

-----

Rain splatters on the windshield as you speed down the highway, the wipers trying their hardest to keep your view clear. Your mind had become numb to the inclement weather at this point, having already traveled eighteen hours of the twenty five hour journey; a journey you never thought you'd make. But here you are, driving on an empty highway in the middle of the night, alone.

Mile after mile flies by, your thoughts replaying yesterday's events over and over again like an unhealthy obsession. It had come as a shock, walking into your home to see your fiancé with another woman on his lap. You weren't expected back home for a few more hours, but your boss had let you go early.

You remember vividly how excited you were to come home early for once, to spend time with your fiancé because work had been keeping you busy. But that excitement turned to nausea within a second. She had her arms around his neck, he had his hands on her waist, both of their faces flushed. Of course he tried to tell you it was a misunderstanding.

"It's not what it looked like." He begged you as you zipped up your last suitcase. Without sparing him a glance, you wheeled the luggage to the front door, unusually calm despite the circumstances. Your hand rested on the cold handle and you cleared your throat.

"Don't call me, don't text me. If I left something here I will have my attorney contact you." Is all you said before you left your home of four years. Maintaining composure, you placed the bag in the back of your car and got inside.

As soon as your home disappeared from view in your rearview mirrors, the dam broke. Tears fell quickly down your cheeks, harsh breaths wracked your chest, your hands tightly gripped the steering wheel. You must've cried for hours before the tears dried, your breathing had leveled, and your aching hands eased up on the wheel. Within the blink of an eye, your life had been turned upside down and you had no idea how to pick up the pieces.

You decided to go back to Washington D.C., the one place you really ever considered home, after a few hours of driving East. Truthfully, you have no idea what you're going to do or where you're going to go once you get there, and you only have a few hours to figure it out. But you have blind faith that you'll figure something out, even if it does take a few days.

-----

The next day, you wake in a hotel room, enveloped in pristine white covers. The sun peeks through the heavy curtains, and you rub the sleep from your eyes. Checking your phone, you see dozens of missed calls and unanswered text messages from your now ex-fiancé. It seems he can't follow instructions very well. You ignore his messages and delete his voicemails without listening to them, you have no desire to waste your time listening to his lies.

You scroll through your contact list and block his number, eager to be rid of the man as fast as possible. While scrolling, your thumb lands on a distantly familiar name, and an idea blooms in your mind. Your eyes read over his contact card for a second, Aaron Hotchner, your old boss. You could always call and see if there's any chance the team would take you back. Though it would be humiliating to explain why you had come back, you'd be lying if you said you didn't miss the team who became your family.

The thought of being reunited with them is enough to send Aaron a text before you can talk yourself out of it. It's a simple message, and right to the point. If there's one thing you remember about Hotch, it's how he appreciated conciseness.

Your phone finds its way to the side table as you get out of bed and get ready for the day. You had no plans in particular, and you had the hotel room booked for another week, so there was no immediate rush to get out. Today you would allow yourself to meander aimlessly and tomorrow you would get serious about finding a place to rent.

Halfway through your unplanned day, your phone buzzes in your pocket and your heart drops. There's only one person it could be. Not having the patience or restraint to wait, you pull your phone out immediately and read the text from Aaron.

"Come by the office tomorrow." The message is simple, in true Aaron fashion and a smile breaks out on your face, happy that something is finally starting to look up.

-----

Familiar glass doors are feet away from you, the FBI logo engraved into the glass, they look exactly like you remembered. Your heart thumps in your chest with each footstep towards the door. You hadn't told anyone but Hotch about wanting to come back, but you know when you walk through these doors that all hell is going to break loose. With a deep, calming breath, you open the doors and start towards Hotch's office casually.

But of course, as fate would have it, you don't make it there without being noticed. To your right, you hear a gasp, then another, and then suddenly your name is being called out by your old friends. Turning to face them, it's like everything is starting to click and fall into place. Emily and JJ rush over to you, smiles on their faces, and you can't help but smile as well. You've missed your team dearly.

"I didn't know you were coming!" Emily says as she wraps you in a warm hug, to which you return.

"Yeah, it was kind of unplanned actually." You say, stepping back from her arms. JJ and Emily look at you expectantly, but instead of giving them the answer they're wanting to hear, you take another step back and look to Hotch's office.

"We'll catch up later." JJ smiles, noticing your eagerness to get to Hotch. You nod before turning away. With a light knock, you knuckles make contact with the wooden office door.

"Come in." Hotch's deep voice calls out.

When you enter, he stands with a ghost of a smirk on his face and extends his hand. You return his handshake and take a seat in front of his desk.

"It's good to see you again." He says as he sits back down and you sigh, looking around at the office. Hotch really hasn't changed anything since you've been gone.

"Yeah, it feels good to be here again." You answer truthfully, meeting his eyes.

"I assume this isn't just a visit?" He questions, interlocking his fingers together in front of him.

"Perceptive as always. But you're right. Listen, I haven't told anyone but I am no longer with my fiancé and I was wondering if the team had a vacancy you're looking to fill." You get right to the point and your stomach turns with anxiety. Hotch's eyebrows lift at your words and you can tell he hadn't been expecting those words to come out of your mouth. But after a few moments of contemplation, he finally answers.

"We would be glad to have you back. When can you start?" You blink a few times, trying to process that he had actually welcomed you back and hadn't let you down gently, like you had half been expecting.

"I um, I can start whenever." You say, stumbling over your words with excitement. This time, a noticeable smile adorns Hotch's face.

"How about you get settled back here first, then we can talk about coming back." He says and you agree, knowing that having a stable place to live first is probably the right thing to take care of before diving headfirst into work again.

After catching up with Hotch, he allows you to mingle around the bullpen, where your old friends have been anxiously waiting. You can tell from the look on their faces that they're expecting some sort of explanation, and you can't help yourself but share the news.

"I'm back!" You say with a wide smile. JJ and Emily cheer, Morgan comes and claps you on the back, and even Penelope comes out and talks a million miles a minute about how you need to tell them everything. And while you love being back with your team, you can't help but notice how Spencer lingers in the background.

Spencer and you had grown very close over your years together, and once you had moved away you hadn't really heard from him. It hurt, but you understood and didn't want to pressure him to keep contact. But you really had missed him. You catch his eye from across the room and you smile, knowing that once you're back full time that you will have a lot of time to catch up with him, and you hope that you're able to pick up right where you left off.

----- "Well it looks like you're getting quite the welcome back. Four women went missing in Athens, Tennessee. All four of them were found on the same day in the same manner. They had their arms tied behind their backs and their heads were submerged under water. But the medical examiner does not believe they died by drowning." Penelope briefs the team on the newest case and as she speaks you study the images in front of you.

It's been years since you've worked a case, or really in any law enforcement capacity at all. Once you had moved out west with your ex-fiancé you had decided to take a job as a daycare teacher. It was a nice change of pace for a while, but it makes getting back into the BAU lifestyle that much more difficult. After being surrounded by innocent children for years, you're now being re-immersed in a world full of psychopaths and it feels overwhelming.

You sit back as the team discusses early theories. Once upon a time you would have jumped in with your own thoughts, but you suddenly feel under qualified to be here. It has you second guessing whether this was the right decision or not. But before you can dwell on that for very long, the team is loading the jet and speeding off to Tennessee.

While on the jet, Hotch assigns everyone their duties, and you find yourself being paired with Spencer, just like you usually were. Being paired with him ignites a feeling of excitement within you. You still hadn't been able to catch up with him properly, but you're hoping this could change that.

Everyone keeps to themselves for the majority of the ride, busying themselves with reviewing the case and resting up. Once upon a time, you usually tried to sneak in a nap on the way to a new case, but the nerves creeping around in your veins keep you unable to do so, instead you worry about performing well for the sake of your reputation.

When the plane lands, the team hits the ground running. Some members go to the medical examiner's office, others go to interview the families, while you and Spencer are left to piece together the geographical profile. He's spread a map out on a table and marked where the bodies were found.

You pitch in when you feel comfortable with your findings, such as where the victims were last seen. The beginning of the process is fairly straight forward, it isn't until the deduction part until you start feeling dread and nervousness. Spencer hadn't said a single word directly to you, he's only spoken into the open air and you've responded.

"Well, what if they were all going to the doctor for the same condition?" You pitched in and Spencer hummed in response. And for the first time, he finally acknowledges you directly.

"You might actually be onto something. Let me call Garcia." His words are rushed and he leaves the room as the phone dials. Your heart sinks as he leaves. This isn't like how it used to be at all. No, you and Spencer were always a dynamic duo, but this feels very static and compartmentalized.

Perhaps it's because he's unsure if your abilities are still up to par. Or maybe he's still upset that you left in the first place. You couldn't be sure, but you hoped that this phase would pass soon so that you could have your dear friend back.

-----

You look at the clock with burning eyes, seeing that it's already one in the morning. The rest of the team had left for the motel hours ago, but you and Spencer had stayed at the station, having struck gold with Garcia. Apparently, all of the victims had contracted a very unique disease and so you and Spencer had researched that disease extensively to locate where they could've contracted it from.

So far, there was a very limited list of possibilities. With your mind becoming more fuzzy with exhaustion you know you're not being a very good teammate. Yawning, you break the long-standing silence and stand from your seat.

"I think I'm going to go to the motel, I'm exhausted and I can't comprehend anything I'm reading anymore." You announce, throwing away your empty coffee cup from hours earlier. Spencer caps the marker he's using and straightens his posture.

"Yeah, I'll go with you." He rubs his eyes as he stands, and the two of you walk out of the station together.

The night is warm and you appreciate the night sky as the two of you walk back to the motel. Your brain feels like it's been put through a meat grinder, and the unrelenting nerves double down on your exhaustion. It feels like your feet weigh twenty pounds each and so when you finally reach the motel, it's like seeing an oasis in the desert. Spencer goes in for the keys to your room and to his room and you notice the teams' cars parked in the lot.

"Bad news." Spencer says as he walks back from the lobby.

"What?" Dread fills you and you're not sure how much more you can take before you mentally break and physically collapse.

"They had to rent out one of our rooms, I guess they made a deal with Hotch for a partial refund. So, the two of us are going to be in room B12." He says, swinging the keys from his finger.

"You're kidding." Your voice is monotone. All you had wanted was some space alone, but you can't even be afforded that luxury. Instead of arguing or complaining further though, you just sigh and head towards room B12, where you trust the others have relocated your items.

You hear Spencer follow closely behind you and he unlocks the door once you reach it. Inside, there's one bed and one small armchair. The two of you just stand in the doorway, staring at the inadequate accommodations.

"I can go see if I can get the keys to one of the cars." Exhaustion is thick in your voice and you feel beat down and defeated from the day.

"No, you don't have to do that. I can take one of the cars." Spencer speaks up as you turn to leave and you meet his eyes, tiredness obvious.

"Spencer you're too tall. No, just let me it's okay." You take a step forward, but he catches your upper arm.

"Listen, Hotch needs the sleep, he hasn't been resting well lately. So why don't we just try to figure something out here." He lets go of your arm and closes the door behind him. At this point, you just want to sleep and so you agree.

"Yeah, sure. I'm going to get changed." You say and rub your eyes as you go to rummage around your bag for something comfortable. As you go to the bathroom, you hear Spencer messing with the blankets.

Once the door is closed behind you, you grip the edge of the counter and look in the mirror. Your bloodshot eyes stare back and the anxiety of the day catches up to you with full force. Feelings of inadequacy and disappointment fill you and you worry that you're letting the team down by not being able to solve things faster. Once again you find yourself wondering if coming back was the right decision.

You let go of the counter and change, ready to pass out for a few hours and be dead to the world, hoping that your anxieties don't also infiltrate your dreams. When you exit you see that Spencer has changed as well, and has also constructed a sort of pillow wall in the middle of the bed. You can't help but smile at his efforts.

"Are you sure you're okay with this?" You ask, not wanting to make him uncomfortable. After all your years of knowing Spencer, you knew he valued his personal space. He nervously nods and clears his throat as you approach the bed.

"Yeah, it's fine. Are you sure your fiancé isn't going to care?" His words are calculated and from the look on his face you can tell he had been stressing over this for a little while.

Looking down at your finger, you see the glistening ring and you spin it around a few times, remembering what it used to symbolize. You hadn't wanted to tell anyone about the break up just yet, but you know you have to tell Spencer now, or he'll be up all night worrying about the fiancé he thinks you have.

"I um, I don't have a fiancé anymore." Your voice is soft and you hear the vulnerability in it. Unable to meet Spencer's eyes, you just keep staring at the ring.

"But I thought, you're wearing the ring, and JJ said that-" He stumbles over his words and you finally look up to him, seeing him in an almost panicked state.

"We broke up. I left him, actually. I came home and saw another woman on top of him." You admit, fingers leaving the ring as you mention the infidelity. His eyes glance down to the ring before he meets your eyes again.

"I'm sorry I didn't know." He says with exasperation and you shrug but beneath your calm demeanor you feel the repressed sadness and anger within you.

"I wasn't going to tell anyone yet but I didn't want you to worry. But yeah, I left that same night and haven't looked back." You sit on the edge of the bed and Spencer follows suit, the two of you almost shoulder to shoulder and it feels like your friend is coming back to you.

"You didn't deserve that." His voice is kind and soft.

"I know. I just wish I hadn't wasted all that time on him. I wish I hadn't moved away from everyone. I missed you all every single day and for all of it to have been for nothing is just, it's a hard pill to swallow." You tell him, unable to keep your thoughts to yourself for any longer. You feel tears burning the rims of your eyes and for the first time since that day, you allow yourself to feel the emotions you've worked hard to ignore.

"Come here. I've missed you too. We all have. But we're so happy to have you back." Spencer wraps an arm around your shoulder and pulls you into him. He rubs small circles on your back as you sniffle, and you're thankful for him. This feels like the Spencer you know and a familiar comfort overcomes you.

You remember all the cases where he would help you deal with the trauma. After particularly hard cases, he would always remind you that you were welcome to call or drop by anytime, that he would be there any hour. In the mornings he would bring you coffee and he'd ask about your night or weekend. Everything with Spencer was always effortless.

And after a few minutes had passed, you and Spencer get into bed, pillow wall be damned as you link your pinky with his, just to know that he's here with you. That night your fears and anxieties did not follow you into your dreams.

-----

Spencer knows he shouldn't be happy to hear that you left you fiancé. As your friend, he should be upset with you and sympathetic. But instead all he feels is a deep sense of relief.

Since working side by side with you, the shiny ring on your finger had become quite the annoying distraction. Every time it caught the light it served as a reminder that he could never have you. But now, it no longer holds any power over him.

And when you link your pinky with his, an unfamiliar feeling blooms within him. One of hope, one that had long died inside of him when you moved away.

He's happy that you came back and before he falls asleep with you by his side, he promises himself that he will not lose this opportunity. This is his second chance and he will take it when he finds the right time.

-----

Three days later and the case is coming to a close, you can feel it in your bones. You and Spencer had begun working as a duo once again and successfully put together a full geographic profile.

Now, all that's left is to locate the suspect and bring him in for questioning. You and Spencer sit around a table waiting for the others to come back from their field investigations, and you can't help but notice how his hair is curlier than you remember.

Not only is his hair curlier, but you notice how the sun brings out the honey tones in his eyes. His long fingers lock together as he looks over a map, which is what you should be doing as well, but instead find yourself admiring Spencer.

He had grown in the last five years, blossomed into the bright man you knew him to be and he seems more comfortable in his own skin. You're happy he's finding his stride. And you can't deny the newfound confidence looks good on him.

With the realization that your thoughts had taken a turn, you snap yourself back to focus on the task at hand. There's no way you were just checking out Spencer of all people. No way. As quick as they manifested themselves, you repressed them deep within your mind.

Thankfully the others arrive back with good news, they've found the suspect; he was almost exactly in the center of the projected safe zone you and Spencer had established. They don't stay long as they gather the sheriff and some deputies before they go and arrest the man. You're sure that the team has found the right man, and you believe he's going to crack as soon as they put some pressure on him. You and Spencer stay behind to lend technical support if they need it.

Turns out, you were right again. It took all of ten minutes before the suspect confessed. The man who wanted to be seen as confident crumbled into a sobbing mess under Hotch's questions. He was taken to the county jail in cuffs and the team was left to pack up and head back to Quantico. You had forgotten what it felt like, what it really felt like, to solve a case. The feeling sinks in and you remember just how much you've missed this job. 

The jet ride back to Quantico is fairly silent. Everyone has found their own thing to do and while they decompressed you looked out the window. The view from the jet never really got old, you always found some beauty staring out into the clouds. But eventually, your eyes drift from the wispy clouds to Spencer, who has opted to take a nap on the journey home. And once again, you come to appreciate him more so than you ever have for his continued friendship. 

You're happy that you came back, and you look forward to what the future may hold. 

-----

The night is chilly but the sky is clear. You and Spencer walk side by side down a path alongside a river, the two of you stressed about work and thankful to finally have a Friday night to yourselves. Of course, the others all had plans, except for you and Spencer, so you both decided to take a late night walk.

You look up to the sky and admire the stars, seeing some shining brighter than others. You're sure Spencer has a fun fact as to why that is, but you're perfectly happy to just walk beside him in quiet content. It's been a month now since you've been back and you feel like you and Spencer had grown closer than ever before in that short amount of time. 

Your gaze shifts from the stars to him, admiring his side profile and how defined his features are. There's no denying that he's grown into his features nicely, and you can't help but to appreciate his beauty, inside and out. 

Eventually the path leads you to a small stone bridge that arches over the river. Crickets chirp in the distance and the moonlight reflects beautifully off the calm water. Leaning forward on the stones, you take a deep breath of crisp air and close your eyes to appreciate the moment of peace. 

"You're still wearing your ring." Spencer's voice breaks the silence between you. Looking down, you see how the diamond is reflecting the moonlight. It's a beautiful ring, yet you had never been so disgusted with a piece of jewelry. 

"Yeah." You twist the ring around and around on your finger before you take it off.

"Are you going to tell the others? I know they've been asking." He says and you nod slowly. 

"Yeah, I'm going to tell them, I just don't know how to I guess. They're all so happy that I've 'found the one' but, he was the furthest thing from my soulmate. I just don't want them to pity me." You say, meeting his eyes. Spencer leans on the bridge's railing as well, his eyes trained on the ring in front of you. 

"You know you don't owe them anything, right? They'll understand." He encourages, and you know he's right but you can't help but feel anxious about it. 

"I know they will." You say, looking back down to the ring. 

What once used to symbolize loyalty and undying love is now nothing more than a reminder of the time you had wasted and the time you'll never be able to get back. It reminds you of how you bent over backwards to please that man, one who used and took advantage of you. Anger rises within you and in a split second decision, you toss the ring into the river below. 

It sinks to the bottom, out of your sight forevermore. And as it sinks it feels like a weight has been lifted off of your shoulders. You feel free, untethered.

"I didn't mean for you to throw it away you probably could've sold it for a good amount of money." Spencer rattles off, obviously flustered that you just threw a thousand dollar ring into the river. But you just shrug, at peace with your decision. 

"It was worthless." You say with conviction. Spencer's lips fall apart and your heart beats faster when you meet his eyes. 

"Come on, it's getting cold out here." You break yourself out of your own thoughts and Spencer nods, offering you his arm. 

You link your arm with his as the two of you walk back to the parking lot and it feels right. Being around Spencer feels effortless and you feel like you can be your true, most authentic self around him without worrying about judgment. His presence makes you feel safe and secure, and as you walk you rest your head on his arm lightly, grateful to have him.

-----

"No I think you put it on backwards." Spencer says, reading the instruction manual again. You take a step back and look at the chair you're trying to assemble and see that he's most definitely correct. 

"I think you're right. Why is building a chair this complicated?" You ask as you sit back down and begin disassembling the part you had just put on. 

It's now been four months since you've been back. In that time you've found an apartment and have decided to finally furnish it. And thanks to Spencer, you don't have to assemble the furniture alone. The two of you had put together a credenza, a bookshelf, a side table, and now are tackling the chairs, which are proving to be more of a challenge than anticipated. 

After another hour, the chairs are finally assembled. Spencer collapses on your couch dramatically as you push the last one in to complete the dining set. Feeling like he deserves some thanks for helping you today, you go to the kitchen and pour him a glass of wine. 

You return to your couch and sit next to him, putting the glass in his hand. He hums in appreciation and takes a sip. Before you partake in your own glass, you go and turn on the fireplace, feeling like it would complete the atmosphere. The amber glow from the flames envelope the two of you in warmth, and you take a long sip of your wine. 

It's not unusual for Spencer to be over at your apartment anymore, he had been coming over pretty consistently since the night you two had taken a walk over the river. It's like something changed that night between the two of you; like throwing the ring was symbolic of more than just unloading past baggage. It's like it allowed you to move on and start anew. 

Lately, you found yourself thinking about Spencer more and more often. When he wasn't around you find yourself missing him. You miss his humor, his comfort, just everything about him. Every time he knocks on your door butterflies erupt in your tummy and you're unable to keep the smile off your face. 

You had denied the feelings for a while, explaining them away as just sentiments of friendship. But eventually, you had come to realize that you had slowly fell in love with your best friend. He makes your days brighter and brings peace to your soul. 

As you sip on your wine, you move closer to him and rest your head on his shoulder. There's just something about Spencer that draws you in, almost as if he has his own gravitational pull. Like he's the sun and you're just a planet in his orbit. But you wouldn't have it any other way. Spencer puts an arm around your shoulders and hugs you closer, sending a warm feeling down your spine. If only you could stay like this forever. 

The two of you finish off the wine in a comfortable silence, and it's not too long after that you find your eyelids growing heavy. You burrow yourself closer to Spencer, who adjusts so that you two can comfortably lay on the couch together. The crackling of the fire and Spencer's warmth lulls you close to sleep, and you might have fallen asleep, had it not been for feeling Spencer pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. 

The kiss was quick, gentle, but you know he had meant it. As you lay on him, head on his chest, his arms wrap you up and hug you tight, like he's afraid you'd float away if he let you go. You feel warmness creep up into your cheeks as his hands start rubbing slow circles on your back. It's almost like he wants you to fall asleep on him. 

Before you're pulled into sleep, you look up at him through your lashes, only to be met with his warm, tender gaze already on you. Your lips fall apart as you feel the butterflies take flight in your tummy. Up close and under the soft glow of the fire, you're sure Spencer was actually an angel in human form. You had never seen such delicate beauty before. 

Unable to stop yourself, your hand travels up his torso before it rests on his cheek. Your thumb gently strokes over his cheekbone as the two of you explore each other's eyes. It's unspoken, but you feel as if there's an agreement between the two of you, an acknowledgement of sorts. 

Feeling a surge of confidence, you lean up and press your lips to his. He's warm and soft, and his hands cradle your face as if you were made of glass. Your lips move in perfect tandem, as if you had done this a million times before. 

When your lungs begin to burn, it's only then that you pull away with a heated face and swollen lips. You blink a few times as you gaze into his eyes, seeing his pupils dilated and his lips pinker than they were just a moment earlier. His hands hold your face delicately and he looks at you as if you had personally put all the stars in the sky. 

"You have no idea how long I've waited for you." He whispers before leaning in for another kiss. His words are deliberate and genuine, and you know he's not lying. 

As you break away again, a smile finds its way to your face. Spencer smiles back and it feels like things are falling perfectly into place. You wish you had the ability to bottle this moment up and preserve it. Your heart and soul had never felt such peace than when you're in Spencer's loving arms. 

You lean your forehead against his and close your eyes, knowing with every fiber of your being that Spencer Reid is the man you're going to spend the rest of your days with.