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kamospeach · 3 days ago

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just hold on we're going home .ᐟ

plot: husband!nanami who doesn't like when his wife get's too drunk.

content warning: alcohol use, strict nanami, oral m!recieving, face fucking, lil spitting, messy messy, choking, restraint, daddy kink sorry not sorry, mating press, backshots, stomach bulging :P, breeding kink, breeding, lots and lots of dirty talk

peachy's yap: wc 3.4k.ᐟ nanami's such a gentleman you dont get in trouble until the day after LMFAO. shoko’s my lil fruity pop :D! i might have lied about posting yesterday, but sza is my fav so. birds of a feather...

if nanami asked whose idea it was he knew you'd lie. it started very calmly your girls begged to have a girl's night. nanami started taking off to spend more time with you so you had been up under him for the past month. you offered up your home for the girl's night to which nanami agreed.

but he didn't think you'd kick him out once the night came. he thought he could stay in your bed and eat what you bring him from your girlie snacks. watch murder mystery and finish some leftover work. boy was he wrong, the minute your girls walked in you pushed him out the door.

he stood at the door shock written all over his face as you stood in your pink versace robe. you smiled wide, eyes crinkling at the corner looking at your husband. he was trying to be mad at you but your big white smile swayed him.

"i thought i could stay," he said his tone tugging on your heartstrings. you frowned giving him a peck on the lips promising you’d save him a big plate. letting him know he was free to come home at 12. he was taken aback at your audacity but he knew you deserved it.

he sucked it up and made his way to gojo’s house knowing somebody was there. if not everyone. since gojo couldn’t fathom being alone for longer than 30 minutes. just as he thought geto, shoko, yuji, and now he were sitting on gojo’s couch playing games. but all nanami could think about was you.

“she really kicked you out?” shoko asked sipping on a drink. nanami just nodded not even wanting to talk about it. he was in denial that you wanted him out THAT bad.

“i’m surprised your not there shoko,” gojo said and shoko smacked her lips. she was clearly upset about getting banned from girls night.

“last time i went they said i kept kissing on my girl too much,” she said leaning back with her arms crossed. it was awkward enough that his friend’s girlfriends randomly became your friends. (he’s still trying to figure out when y’all had the time to become friends) but now when you had girl’s night the only place he could take refuge at was at the house of the person who annoyed him the most.

"pretty sure the point is to be away from their significant other anyways, i don’t know." geto shrugged clearly as distressed as nanami about being away from his girlfriend.

4 hours in they tried to get him to drink but he couldn’t even look at the bottles. too busy replaying your instagram story over and over. he had to admit, him taking off and spending more time with you made him feel like you two were newlyweds all over again.

technically he could blame these feelings on you since you asked him to take off. now he was here bored and annoyed with gojo’s loud talking and shoko’s ranting about her girlfriend who was having just as much fun as you.

another hour in his cheek rested on his palm as he watched the graphics fly across the tv screen. that was until shoko got a call that made her stand up quickly.

“nanami we gotta go,” she said and nanami looked at her bewildered.

"for what?" he asked and shoko was just rushing to grab her stuff.

"y/n drunk off her ass and my girl crying cause she miss me," she said laughing and nanami raised a brow.

"is my girl good?" geto asked and shoko nodded.

"i'll bring them here, but y/n needs to go home," shoko said looking at nanami who still had a confused look on his face. "what?"

"they didn't have any alcohol..." nanami said and all the men plus shoko looked at each other.

"so where are they?" gojo asked looking at his girl's location and his jaw dropped. "they at the club," he said and that was all nanami needed to hear before he quickly made his way out of gojo's penthouse.

shoko followed behind him with a light jog to keep up with his fast menacing steps. everyone else stayed behind while they sent the good cop and bad cop to do their dirty work.

he had never driven this recklessly in his life. he was pushing 100 on the highway swerving in and out of cars. making a park in a no parking to get to you. the line outside the club wrapped around the building but he didn't care. ready to argue with the bouncer who pushed him back.

"can you just let me in my wife's in there drunk?" he pleaded and the bouncer shook his head.

"wassup shoko." the bouncer said dapping up shoko letting her in. "aw he with you? why you ain't say that man c'mon." he said letting him in the club. nanami gave the man a sickening glare not liking how that went down.

"there they go right there!" shoko shouted over the music pointing to the group of girls. you stood on the couch singing to the music in the same robe from earlier. when you noticed nanami you squealed climbing down from the couch and running over to him.

"are you here to party with me?" you asked and he gave you a blank stare. you knew what he was there for but you rather act stupid which only fueled his anger more.

"you know what i am here for y/n," he said and you looked by at your 3 friends who were being gathered by shoko. you slowly turned back to nanami with a guilty smile. "yeah." he said grabbing your hand and you followed behind him. did you know you were in trouble? yes. did you care though? not really.

"ken wait i have on slippers." you said and he huffed picking you up. "ooo so manly." you laughed kicking your feet and accidentally hitting someone. the man turned around glaring at the both of you.

"not tonight man please." he begged the man who looked at your drunken state nodding at nanami apologetically. "then you got on the robe i got you. for your birthday, our matching ones?" he scoffed at your audacity to wear it outside.

"sorry." you laughed as he placed you in the seat. the minute the door closed that was the last nanami heard from you. you were knocked out from the time y'all hit the highway to the next morning.

your head was pounding as you sat up seeing two pills a glass of water and a note. quickly taking the pills with no hesitation, after you read the note.

take the pills. breakfast is in the microwave. you're NOT off the hook.

-K

considering the "NOT" was underlined not once not twice but three times you knew you had it coming. still, you decided to make sure what you were reading was indeed correct.

you: okay so you are mad at me?

ken💛: You read it.

you: so yes or no?

ken💛: Or.

you nodded to yourself seeing how he was going to be. although you were in the wrong you were going to drag this situation. well, you were gonna try, but honestly, you were shitting bricks all day. you cleaned the living room from the previous night and even the kitchen. you busied yourself with laundry and baking cakes and cookies. totally NOT to beg nanami to forgive you.

it didn't help after you replied with a '?' nanami left you on read. he was later than his usual 6pm that he was working nowadays. you sat on the couch watching real housewives as your leg bounced faster than your head spun. as you were just about to relax the lock clicked.

you thickly swallowed your spit as the door creaked open and nanami walked through the door. being a suck up you ran over to him helping him with his jacket and folding it over your arm as nanami loosened up his tie.

he was angry with you, yes but he couldn't deny how sexy you looked in your short gown. that only went half past your thigh the lace at the bottom enticing him.

your cocoa-buttered legs smooth from your everything shower you took two hours ago. nanami wanted to forgive right there and stuff his face in your thighs while he sloppily ate your pussy. but he couldn't do that, you were getting too comfortable and he couldn't let that happen.

"i made salmon for dinner and cake and cookies for dessert." you smiled and he hummed kissing your lips. you both sat at the table eating the dinner you made.

"so," he said wiping his mouth and leaning back. he had finished his food and you looked up from your plate.

"did you want dessert i can make you a-," you said standing only to be stopped by nanami's stern voice. he didn't use that often with you so he meant business.

"sit down," he said and you gulped loudly returning back to your seat.

"i'll give you one time to lie to me." he said and you furrowed your brows not sure what he meant. "why did you guys go to a club?"

"okay, so funny story actually. we were watching tiktoks and we saw a friend group go to a club in pajamas. so we were like hey we're in our pajamas so let's just go." you explained finding that answer easy.

"so why were you drunk like that?" he asked and you sighed, nanami didn't mind you drinking. but he always lectured you about being drunk to the point you weren't worried about your surroundings. last night you were definitely drunk past being aware of your surroundings.

"they just kept bringing out shots, peer pressure i guess." it was the truth the more shots they brought the less you cared about your husband's lectures. he hummed at your answer and he leaned up resting his elbows on the table while his cheek sat on his fist.

"and whose idea was this?" when he asked this you gave him the exact reaction he expected. your eyes looked everywhere but he knew this would be your reaction. "speak up."

"mine," you said as he stood up, nodding, and walking over to you. your eyes followed his every move your eyes trained on his veiny arms as he rolled up his sleeves.

"give me one reason you shouldn't be in trouble. for not telling me where you were going, getting fucking wasted, and acting a fool," he said and you nod as he listed off the things you dad like he was reading your sentencing for a crime.

although nanami was a soft husband he really did hate being mean to you. he was controlling you were free to do whatever you wanted as long as you told him. he didn't have many rules so for you to break two reasonable rules was insane to him. the 'acting a fool' accusation didn't matter to him he just threw that in for dramatics.

"w...well for one you love me." you smiled up at nanami who licked his lips with a slow nod as he unbuckled his pants.

"on your knees," he said clearly not satisfied with your answer. you were quick to get on your knees doing whatever he wanted. nanami being himself didn't start until he checked you were okay. "it hurts?" he asked and you shook your head grabbing at his waistband.

"mm mm." you hummed pulling his pants and underwear down. he popped your hand like a kid in a cookie jar.

"no hands, if you don't listen i'll use the belt., he said and you knew he meant it. your hands went behind your back as nanami's thick cock slapped against your face. "i'm not holding back tonight so if it's too much you know what to say."

before you even had the chance to reply to him his dick was down your throat. you gagged as both his hands found their way to your hair gripping your braids tightly. he fucked your face so hard spit was bubbling around his cock. your eyes water as nanami's thrust into your mouth.

"fuck sweetheart..." he groaned under his breath as his hips kept up the pace. you pushed at his legs and he stopped his thrust. "you're doing so good so i'll give you one last chance to move your hands." he said and you complied. he knew you were okay because you'd tap him if you couldn't take it.

"mmmmm," you hummed getting turned on just by his grunts and groans as his cockhead roughly hit the back of your throat. his dick twitching in your throat as he was getting closer and closer to his climax.

"since you're being a good girl i'll... hah... let you pick where you want it," he grunted still roughly fucking your throat. he pulled out your mouth jerking himself as he looked down at your teary eyes. mascara running down your pretty brown cheeks that would be painted red if not for your melanin.

"my face," you said not needing to even think about where you wanted it.

"s'fucking nasty wanting me to cum in your face pretty girl." nanami couldn't deny how good you looked as he stroked himself over your face. his head thrown back his lip tucked into his teeth as he grunted releasing all over your face. his white hot cum painting your face.

he roughly gripped your chin wiping his cum from your lips and your cheek. he pushed his thumb into your already open mouth. you lips latch on his thumb sucking all his thick and salty cum off his finger. licking around your lips making sure you got all that you could off your face.

he leaned down and grabbed the back of your neck kissing you roughly. you grabbed his now wrinkled dress shirt pulling him on top of you. sure the ground wasn't the cleanest place but it was the dining room rug. nanami smirked down at your urgency.

"you can't be in that big of a rush to get punished sweetheart." he laughed and you gulped at his sinister smirk. usually, he held a nonchalant expression but at this moment you could read his expressions. he leaned down sloppily kissing your lips and pushing his spit into your mouth.

"i just need you," you whined and he laughed... he actually laughed at you. it wasn't a hehe-haha laugh no it was almost menacing. he pulled up your nightgown to your waist seeing your soaked panties.

"you were that turned on from just sucking me off? hm?" he asked as he pulled off your panties. you whined when the cool air hit you soaked folds you becoming more needy by the minute.

you were so wet you didn't need foreplay all it took was nanami rubbing his tip against your clit. he let a dribble of spit fall from his lips landing on his cock. he rubbed it coating his cock with your essence and his saliva. using his thumb he pushed himself in only the tip. pulling out just to put the tip back in again.

"kenn~" you couldn't take him teasing you with just the tip. he wanted you to beg him to fuck you and you knew all the things he wanted to hear. you didn't get punished often but when you did you knew exactly what he wanted. "please fuck me m'sorry for not telling you~" you whined.

"what else sweetheart, what else are you sorry for?" he said pushing a little more into you now. he grunted feeling you tighten around him your cunt begging for more.

"m'sorry for getting too drunk and for acting up," you whined your nails gripping at the rug under you. it took everything in you to not run your fingers in his hair or drag your nails down his back. "fuck me pleasepleasepleaseplease can't take it."

"such a good girl." he mewls out pushing into you all the way bottoming out in your soaking pussy. he drowned in your wetness as he began to quickly thrust into you. his hips snapped into you like there was no tomorrow. he loved the way you hugged his cock like you were made just for him.

"you're fucking me so good daddy oh my ngh." you moaned back arching off the rug as his hands rested on the back of your thigh. he pushed them against your chest as his cockhead rubbed against your g-spot. bringing you closer and closer to your climax each time.

"are you close pretty girl? i feel it... i feel you." he whispered and your body twitched under him just from the words he said. "barely even fucked you and you're already creaming on me. look at your mess." he told you and you looked down at his cream-coated cock that was covered in your cream. a wet spot now visible on his khakis that wasn't doing anything but turning him on more.

"m'cumming." you squealed as your orgasm ripped through you. nanami smiling as your hands instinctively went to his thigh pushing him. he wanted you to give him a to tie up your hands with a belt. he knew overstimulating you would do it with no problem.

"i gave you two chances didn't i?" he asked pulling off his belt and making you whine.

"m'sorry it was too much." you pleaded and he shook his head pulling out of you.

"turn around," he said as you slowly flipped over you didn't bother putting an arch in your back. he used his belt as a makeshift cuff restraining your hands behind your back. nanami gripped your hips using his thumbs to fix your arch. "there you go..." he hummed pushing himself into your pussy that was dripping onto the rug beneath you.

"shitttt..." you whined as nanami grabbed your restrained arms tightly. angling his hips up to fuck up into and menacing slow pace.

"get so close ta' cumming every time i get in your wet pussy." he grunted his mouth getting filthier and filthier as he felt your walls flutter around him. he sped up his pulling you back further bullying your pussy.

"ken!" you yelped as his cock bullied its way into your chest, or at least it felt like that. your stomach bulging from his big cock thrusting into your womb. he was a mess drowning in your wetness loving the way you moaned his name. or the way you moaned in general the sound music to his ears.

he was edging closer and closer nutting and he was trying to hold off. but it was undeniable that you both were reaching your second climax in no time. he let go of your restrained hands wrapping both of them around your neck.

he kept up the relentless pace as you yelled out. nanami wasn't used to the rough and super fast-paced fucking. pushing him further over the edge as he grunted making pointed thrusts into you.

"fuck sweetheart i’m about to cum. you'll let me breed this pussy right?" he asked as you nod and he continued roughly pounding into you. "use your words y/n."

"yes bread your pussy." you moaned not even realizing what you said.

"my pussy? hm? you wanna be a mommy? want to be pregnant with my baby?" he was just saying anything as his climax was threatening to rip through him. "shit m’cumming."

"me too," you whimpered as he thrust into you one final time until the two of you came together. he let out a guttural groan as he released in you, his seed spilling out as he still stuffed you full. nanami pulled out letting go of your neck and using his thumb to push his cum back into you.

"you're really going to give me a baby?" he asked out of breath looking you deep in your eyes as he unbuckled the belt. he lifted you up in his lap as you both pressed your foreheads together.

"you always gave me dilf vibes anyway," you whispered and he laughed at your statement.

"i heard milf pussy was the best," he said and you gasped.

"kento that's so inappropriate!" you yelped swatting at his arm. he gawked at your audacity to call him inappropriate.

"sweetheart we just had sex on the floor of our dining room." he said and you covered your ears. "okay sorry." he laughed pecking your lips three times.

and indeed 9 months later you and nanami were the hottest milf and dilf in a 50-mile radius.

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woso-story · 2 days ago

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Drunk

Alexia Putellas x Reader

The club was buzzing with energy, the air thick with laughter and the celebratory spirit of victory. The whole team was out tonight, letting loose after a hard-fought win. You sat beside Alexia at a booth filled with your closest teammates. Glasses clinked together, drinks flowed freely, and the night was full of stories, teasing, and joy.

You leaned into Alexia, grinning. “This was one hell of a match.”

She smiled, her hazel eyes full of pride as she looked at you. “It was. You played amazing.”

You felt a warm blush creep up your neck, but before you could respond, Patri threw an arm around you. “Enough with the lovebirds, we’re here to celebrate! Come on, let’s dance!”

With a laugh, you allowed yourself to be pulled away, casting one last glance at Alexia before stepping onto the dancefloor.

The music pulsed through your body as you danced with the girls, moving to the beat, spinning, laughing, and feeling utterly free. The drinks kept coming, and soon, the world had a slight, pleasant blur to it. Everything felt lighter, funnier. You lost track of time as you twirled between your teammates, their cheers and shouts mixing with the booming bass of the club.

Meanwhile, Alexia stayed back with Mapi, Irene, and some others. She nursed her drink, but her eyes never strayed far from you. Every time you laughed, every time you threw your hands in the air, every time someone spun you around—she saw it all. She smiled, amused, and a little protective.

“Are you really watching her all night?” Mapi teased, nudging Alexia’s arm.

Alexia shrugged. “Someone has to make sure she doesn’t get herself into trouble.”

Mapi smirked. “She’s having fun. Let her be.”

Alexia did. She watched as you swayed, completely at ease, lost in the moment. But when she saw you stumble slightly as you made your way off the dancefloor and toward the bar, something in her stirred. Without thinking twice, she stood up and followed you.

You plopped onto a barstool, breathing heavily, the room spinning just enough that you needed a second to steady yourself. A presence slid in next to you, but in your hazy state, you didn’t immediately process it.

Then, an arm wrapped around your waist.

You turned your head, blinking slowly at the woman beside you. She was beautiful—hazel eyes, soft features, strong presence.

Too close.

You leaned back slightly, frowning. “Uh… I have a girlfriend.”

Alexia’s brows lifted in amusement. “Oh?”

“Yes,” you said, nodding seriously. “And she’s amazing.”

The bartender approached, and before you could open your mouth, Alexia smoothly ordered, “A water, please.”

You pouted, turning to her with a slight glare. “Hey! I was gonna get a cocktail.”

“You’ve had enough,” she said simply, her voice calm but firm.

You huffed. “That’s not for you to decide.” You waved her off dismissively. “Go away, my girlfriend is waiting for me.”

Alexia bit her lip, trying not to laugh. She tilted her head, playing along. “Really? What’s she like?”

Your expression softened, and a dreamy smile took over your face. “Oh, she’s perfect.” You sighed happily, resting your chin in your hands. “She has the most beautiful hazel eyes… I get lost in them all the time. And her smile? Ugh. It’s gorgeous. She’s so generous and kind. And she always makes me laugh, even when I’m in a bad mood.”

Alexia listened, her heart swelling with each word. She had always known you loved her, but hearing you ramble about her like this—completely unfiltered, completely sincere—made her fall for you all over again.

You continued, completely oblivious to the fact that you were talking about the very person in front of you. “She’s also so strong. And confident. And protective, but not in a bad way—she just always makes me feel safe, y’know?” You sighed again, taking a sip of the water Alexia had ordered for you. “I love her so much.”

Alexia’s smile was impossibly soft. “She sounds amazing.”

“She is” you said, nodding firmly. “I have to go find her.”

With that, you hopped off the stool—well, more like stumbled off—and made your way back to the table where Mapi and Ingrid were now sitting.

You leaned on the table, looking at them seriously. “Hey, have you guys seen Alexia?”

Mapi and Ingrid shared a look, both of them clearly holding back laughter. “Wait—”

Before they could say anything, Alexia appeared beside you once again, effortlessly wrapping an arm around your waist and pressing a kiss to your temple.

You turned your head, blinking up at her, then suddenly grinned. “There you are! I was looking for you!”

Alexia chuckled. “Were you now?”

“Yes!” You pouted. “You disappeared.”

She shook her head, smiling fondly. “I was with you the whole time.”

You frowned, confused, but then shrugged, leaning into her. “Whatever. You’re here now.”

Mapi covered her mouth with her hand, her shoulders shaking with silent laughter. Ingrid just sighed, shaking her head in amusement.

Alexia squeezed your waist gently. “I think it’s time to go home, mi amor.”

“Nooo,” you whined, looking up at her. “I’m not even drunk.”

Alexia gave you a pointed look. “Carino, you just spent ten minutes talking to me about how much you love me without realizing it was me.”

You blinked. “I… what?”

Mapi couldn’t hold it in anymore—she burst out laughing. “That’s what you were doing?!”

Alexia smirked. “Yep.”

Your face burned. “No. No way.”

“Oh, it happened.” Alexia kissed your forehead, her smile only growing. “And I’m taking you home before you embarrass yourself any further.”

After some gentle coaxing and a little bit of pleading from Alexia, you finally agreed, letting her guide you out of the club.

---

By the time you got home, exhaustion had taken over. The moment you landed on the bed, you were out like a light. Alexia chuckled as she carefully changed you into more comfortable clothes, making sure you were tucked in safely.

She brushed a hand over your cheek, taking in the peaceful expression on your face. Then she pressed a soft kiss to your forehead before whispering, “I love you, too.”

---

The next morning, you woke up with a pounding headache and a groan. Alexia sat beside you, a glass of water and some aspirin in hand.

“Good morning, carino,” she said, smirking.

You narrowed your eyes at her. “Why do you look like you’re enjoying this?”

She shrugged innocently. “Oh, no reason.”

“…Lex.”

She grinned. “You were so drunk last night that you didn’t recognize me.”

Your stomach dropped. “I—What?”

“You told me you had a girlfriend,” she continued, enjoying this far too much, “and then you went on and on about how much you love me.”

Your hands flew to your face. “Noooo.”

She laughed, pulling them away so she could kiss you. “It was adorable. And for the record, I love you too.”

Still mortified, you buried your face in her shoulder. She held you close, her body shaking slightly with laughter.

Yeah, you were never living this down.

#alexia x reader #woso fics #woso community #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas fanfic #barca femeni #woso #woso x reader #woso fanfics

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rebelssvy · 1 day ago

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kiss it better. ✧.*

bakugo x reader ·˚ ༘

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

summary: making out with hot frat boy baku at a collage party, in a closet. no sex or heavy petting, just really hot making out and lots of dirty talk.

thinking about, frat boy bakugo. despite all your efforts to not be here, your new roommates dragged you to this party. you had zero interest being here and zero intention flirting with anyone that came your way. sexually frustrated and maybe a little tipsy wasn’t a willing combo for you. it wasn’t until you bumped into a sweaty back that left you cursing under your breath. what shocked you more was the response you got in return. a line of curses that had your mouth wide open. this guy messed with the wrong girl and that was for- fucking sure.

“excuse me?” you said craning your neck up to the guy, tapping him on his shoulder to make him face you.

“you got a fucking problem?” the sassy blonde replied to you, now fully aware of your presence. turned around facing you, arms crossed in anger.

“your my fucking problem asshole.” mocking him with each syllable, you stocked towards him. you were at a physical disadvantage but that wasn’t stopping you. no, not when this guy is making you already bad night, worse.

without another word you were now being dragged through the halls, brushing up against people against your will. this random man had you in his grip, tight but not loose enough for you to slip through his fingers. if you wanted to you could’ve fought your way out of his hands, but a part of you wanted to see where this lead. notices in his handsome face and muscular tone when he turned around. this was a battle worth fighting.

the hard surface of the door against your back brought you back from your imagination, he had you cornered in this random room. wait. it was closer to a closet. you really didn’t have anywhere to go. his huge frame trapped you, you now got a better look at him. you realized you weren’t gonna run anyways he was just to gorgeous.

breaking the silence, he started-“listen, i’m not gonna let some pretty random girl ruin my party.” you gasped at his words, they were simple, but his tone was harsh. “so when we leave this closet your not gonna be out there looking so upset. your gonna act like your having a good time. got it?” he finished.

“you think i’m pretty?” you asked toying with him. the scowl on his face seemed permanent.

he tugged at his shirt collard, clearing his throat before saying, “yeah but it doesn’t matter how pretty you are with your fuck ass attitude.” you laughed in his face as a reply.

“you think i have a bad attitude? fuck off, you are clearly so much worse then me!” you said through giggles.

“just shut up oh my fucking god.” he groaned while his hand flew to his hair.

“make me.” you pushed yourself up, onto your tippy toes. testing him to see what type of guy he was you flushed at your own behavior.

without another word, his hand found the back of your neck and you were pulled against the man in front of you. his lips finding yours with fastness. the kiss was rough, teeth clinking against each other. you gasped when you felt his hand move from his spot on your neck, to its new position on your waist. pulling your body harder against him your lips now worked in rhythm, the harshness was now seductive. sloppy and wet.

slowly, he parted away from your lips, his hands never leaving your body. you grabbed onto his shoulders for balance. slightly lightheaded as you stumbled back.

“you could be a problem for me.” he said through hot breaths, himself also regaining composure.

“oh really tough guy?” before you could laugh farther, he silenced your laughing in his face buy laying his lips back on yours once again.

“stop arguing with me like a good girl and be fucking quiet.” he mumbled against your lips, his words making your mouth part. his tongue ventured into the new space taking the opportunity to catch you off guard. the two of you getting very hot and bothered now, fighting for dominance.

dry humping each other you caught his groans in your mouth. pulling apart he moved away from you slowly.

through rushed breaths, he said “if you feel the same way i feel about you meet me upstairs in five minutes. room 12, it’s my room.”

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:··:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:··:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

thinking bout a hot HOT part two.

the part two is up!!! check out my master list

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monstersflashlight · 16 hours ago

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Patreon Commission for @i-got-a-bad-feeling-about-this

Request: Could I get fem reader x demon where the demon and reader meet at a book shop, but suprise it's the demons book shop. It's neat closing, so after seeing read buying monster romance book, he gives her the real thing!

A/N: Accidentally very romantic (and a bit sad), probably will expand in the future because I really like the plot. Enjoy!

The curse

Demon x fem!reader || size difference, tail play

You’ve come to this library since it opened. It’s just around the corner from your house and you are completely in love with the vibe and the general aura of the place. It smells like old books and something sweet you can’t quite point out.

Most of the time it seems like there’s nobody around, not even somebody to ring your purchases, but you feel at home there. It’s like there’s a vibe in the air that makes you be so quiet and calm, your brain shuts up for a bit while you are browsing different titles, and it’s just… peaceful in a world that’s too noisy.

So you started to spend more and more time in the library, you didn’t even know why, but every time you left your house, something urged you in that direction. So you comply with your baser urges and end up walking into the library with a soft “hello” that nobody answers. As soon as you enter, calm washes over you.

Your feet walk on their own to the monsterfucker section, always well stocked. “Always around the monsterfucker books, human, I’m starting to think you have a kink...” A deep voice resonates behind you, half amused, half teasing.

You let out a loud yelp and turn around so fast your feet slip under you, and you feel the world tilting his axis as you fall to the ground. Your ass sounds like a thud when you hit the hardwood, an imposing figure appearing out of thin air with a smirk so big you can see his fangs. He’s magnificent, big and completely red, his eyes so dark they feel endless and his wings so wide you are a bit scared he’s going to knock the shelves over.

“Who- who are you?” You stutter, your heart is going so fast you almost think it’s trying to escape your chest.

He chuckles, looking at you with something close to… fondness? “I’m the owner of the place,” he finally says, bored, as if he’s said that exact same thing a thousand of times. His big body is leaning against the books you were just looking at, and there’s fire burning inside his deep black eyes. Literal fire that ignites something deep and primal inside your chest making you gasp. He looks relaxed and cool, very much like one of the book boyfriends of your preferred romances.

“I’ve never seen you around?” You intend it as an affirmative, but sounds more like a question.

“Haven’t you?” He asks you, his head tilted to the side as he bites back a smile. “The library has a spell, nobody can remember me outside these walls. But who do you think has been checking your books before you buy them? Giving you personalized recommendations based on the ones you already bought?” He tries to play it as if it’s funny, but you see past his cold demeanor and into his very sad eyes.

“That… that makes no sense,” you let out.

Your brain is spinning and you want nothing more than to believe him, something in your chest is pried open and exposed, like a nerve you didn’t know was there but it’s screaming at you to understand whatever he’s saying.

“Of course it does. Come here,” he extends his hand to help you up.

The second your fingers touch an avalanche of memories flood your brain.

Him telling you about the books he likes. You telling him about your obsession with monster romance. Him offering you some tea and sitting in silence with you as you both read. You talking about your past and your most embarrassing memories as you both laugh...

You remember him giving back your memories every time you touch, and how it grew on you. How he changed the way of introduction everyday… and how he said goodbye every evening when you had to go, eyes sad and a tiny smile playing on his lips.

“Why did you do that?” You ask, breathlessly.

Your brain continues spinning, and feelings you don’t know if you can name start blooming inside of you. It feels like one of those night flowers that close during certain hours just to open up again when the sun sets. He’s the moon rising in the horizon as your heart pulls you to him as if blooming...

He smiles, even more relaxed than before, releasing your hand and playing with the cover of a book that has a monster very similar to him on the cover. “What did I do?” He teases, a tiny smile showing his fangs.

“Why did you erase my memory every time I leave?” You ask, and deep inside your head there’s a memory of you asking something similar already.

And just like last time, he reminds you: “It’s a norm. The library forbids people from remembering me, that’s how’s supposed to be.” He sounds like a broken record when he tells you that, emotionless and bored as if it doesn’t mean anything, but you can see past that.

“Then… Then…” You try to threaten but nothing comes to mind. He’s staring at you with amusement, one eyebrow raised. And then you surprise you both: “Then I won’t leave.”

He stares at you with confusion, his eyebrows raised and his eyes big in surprise. “What?”

“I won’t leave. If leaving the place means forgetting you… I won’t leave.” It seems like the most reasonable solution and you curse yourself internally for not realizing it sooner.

He laughs without humor. “You don’t mean that. You have a life outside. You have things to do, a work to attend to…”

You cut him. “I will figure it out. I’m not leaving you again. I- I… I have feelings for you,” you confess. You don’t know where all this bravado and confidence is coming from, but every memory spinning inside your head screams at you to tell him how important he is in your life.

He moves so fast you barely see him before his hands are cupping your jaw and his lips are over yours. He’s so tall you are on your tiptoes, and in a second his hands are on the back of your thighs and he’s pulling you up against his chest. This angle is so much better and you are teasing his lips with your tongue, asking for permission.

His mouth parts and you are soon exploring every inch of his mouth, running your tongue over his fangs until he’s moaning against your mouth and his hands are massaging your ass. It’s the most passionate kiss you’ve shared with anybody, and the fact that is him, the fact that he’s a cursed demon and you are in his lair… It only makes it hotter. You feel like one of your book heroines, and you know what’s next. Your pussy knows what’s next.

“Make love to me?” You whisper against his lips, pulling back just enough to stare into his deep black eyes. He blinks slowly, and a wicked smile spreads on his face.

He moves his hand to the side and, just like that, you both are naked and pressing against each other. Your back finds the shelves and some books fall around you, but you don’t care, you can’t care when his hands are cupping your boobs and pinching your nipples. His tail curling around your middle and the tip of it finding your clit. To your utter mortification you are more than drenched, and the second his tail touches your clit, you cry out in an orgasm that leaves both of you surprised.

“Wasn’t expecting that,” he says with a low chuckle. He looks so smug you want to kick him. Or kiss him senseless, you aren’t sure which one yet.

“Ugh, shut up and stop looking so smug,” you tell him, your hand pushing at his face like an annoying bug. He laughs against your palm, pressing a kiss against it and then against your forehead.

“Do you want me to shut up? Or do you want me to fuck you?” He teases, leaning down to peck at your lips.

You are breathing hard when you answer: “Both.”

His finger travels down your body until they rest against your opening, silently asking for permission before you nod. He kisses you at the same time he pushes two fingers inside your tight channel, making you moan against his lips. He starts a maddening pace, stretching you with his fingers until you are at the edge of a second orgasm and your brain is swimming in a mix of desire and pent up sexual frustration.

“I’m ready, I’m ready, please just fuck me already!” It comes out like a shout, and he chuckles as he pulls his fingers back.

“What my human desires, my human gets.”

He aligns his cock with your pussy, and slowly starts breaching you. He’s big, way bigger than any human you’ve been with, but the spark of pain only makes everything better. Your head is thrown back, and he’s holding you with just one arm as his free hand rubs slow circles over your pointy nipple. You are almost there… You can feel his dick hitting your G-spot… And when his tail touches your clit, you explode into a thousand pieces again.

“I- I’m starting to think your tail is magic,” you joke when your brain comes back from an amazing high.

“It’s not my tail, it’s you,” and with that affirmation he starts fucking you like a powered machine.

You chant his name as he fucks into you like there’s no tomorrow. He holds you to the shelves as the books fall around you, batting some with his hand when they fall dangerously close to your head. He grunts and groans, telling you how good your pussy is and how wonderful you feel around his dick. You are desperate to come again, your body in such need, you can’t even form proper thoughts as he keeps fucking you into oblivion.

“I’m gonna come, darling, I’m so close,” his voice sounds like a plea, and you grab his horns with force, kissing him senseless as you help him bounce you on his cock.

Your third orgasm is nothing like the ones before. The combination of the kiss, his dick and his tail playing with your clit is so good your brain short-circuits and you pant open-mouthed against his lips. His own noises joining yours as he comes deep inside, his release hot and sticky inside your welcoming heat.

You stay like that for a while, your body shivering in aftershocks and his breathing erratic. But reality arrives way sooner than you want it to.

Your brain is spinning in the thousand and one ways it could end wrong. The thousand and one things you should do if you really want to be there with him. But most of all, you need to figure out how to break the curse in the library so you can remember him when you leave. And for that you need to get out and go back home, start researching…

“You have to go, don’t you?” He asks against your neck, his face buried there as he kisses along your jaw.

Your heart is hammering inside your chest before you answer. “I have work tomorrow, but I’ll be back and we’ll figure it out. It’s too late for me to call and arrange for me to start working from home. But I’ll do it. I swear I will.” He doesn’t say anything when he helps you get dressed and walks you to the door. He looks very sad when you leave that day, he doesn’t even try to hide it. “I’ll be here tomorrow and we’ll figure it out, okay?”

“Sure…” He agrees, but you know he doesn’t believe you.

The sound of the door closing behind you leaves a bittersweet taste in your mouth, but you can’t exactly figure out why...

A/N: I’m sorry for that ending (but lowkey not).

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hitlikehammers · 3 days ago

Text

Rockstar!Eddie Leaves What He Had With Steve Behind in Hawkins 💔 to Chase His Dreams 🎸

(so why is it that he’s back in Steve’s bed Hawkins every couple months for ‘very pressing reasons’ that are straining Steve’s heart honestly anything but? 🫤❤️‍🩹🥺)

NOTE: this was originally a fill from @eddiemunsonbingo AGES ago, and I’m only bringing it over here NOW because something for the @steddielovemonth is going to be posted soon that is a standalone in its universe, but also very much a sequel to it ♥️

Steve really does try not to think about it in terms of…time.

Maybe that’s foolish. It’s mostly denial. Lots of it isn’t reliable anyway: the score his body keeps isn’t accurate, war-time left over from too many near-misses with a fucking alternate dimension but the popping in his joints and the ringing in his ears and the white hair he pulled out of his scalp and stared blankly at in the sink for a good twenty minutes: those are real things, but they don’t chart the passage of days, of hours, months and fucking years with any real meaning.

It’s been four years. Roughly. Depending on what the start point is. Whether it’s that Spring Break. Whether it’s the first winter. Or the spring after, when Robin begged him to go with her—there’s still time. She still begs, because they still talk given the thread inside them stays tied unbreakable to one another, oblivious to miles between. Maybe it’s measuring from the graduations, the kids—only Erica’s left at Hawkins High, now, though Steve gets calls from the whole bunch of them, Eleven the most, which was maybe surprising, then it’s a good split between Dustin and Will, another surprise. Max calls enough but her calls are calls, with a weight most of the others lack. Lucas’s calls aren’t super frequent but always long, mostly because he talks around the point forever, whatever the point happens to be. Even Mike usually ends up on the other end of the line once a month. It’s…that could be where the time starts from.

Or it could be the summer, that first summer. The one that taught Steve what it was to have a heart just to fucking break it.

Could be that. Impossible to say.

(It’s been 3 years, 7 months, and 14 days. Steve had only counted in retrospect, in the wreckage left behind, because while he’d known there was a deadline in it, to it all, he’d thought he could be enough. That he could change a mind. He’d thought…

Foolish things. Bullshit. Didn’t matter. Could be any fucking date.)

But since the point's come up, and it’s front of Steve’s mind, his least favorite (most favorite) place to find it: he hadn’t expected it. Robin liked to say she saw the signs but. Steve hadn’t watched it happen in slow motion because there wasn’t a single goddamn slow thing about it. Which was…for whatever it was worth, Steve knew falling fast and hard and with everything he was had maybe failed him every time, thus far, but at least he knows that for him?

That means it’s real. He’s all in. He might not be met equal on the other side of the equation—hadn’t been yet, maybe wouldn’t be ever, but he wasn’t having any luck trying to fucking change that fact so, learning to work with what he had was the best he could do. And he had love. He’d never been able to name it to himself so far: not before, and certainly never since. But.

Figuring out the sexuality thing had been a not-bathroom-but-definitely-floor talk on the shitty Family Video carpet sometime around November of ‘85. Slow days, idle comments, and Robin’s suspiciously-but-reliably-gentle-when-the-need-was-dire hand to his shoulder to say no, no: actually wanting to kiss people of any gender wasn’t really…the default Steve had always expected it had to be. How could anyone look at, say, Harrison Ford and not think, oh yeah, I would at least suck his face?

Turned out probably at least half the people on the planet. As in the straight guys and the lesbians. Steve had spent the majority of three days on that disgusting fucking carpet, open to close, popping up to ask Robin if she was sure because what about—

She was sure. And eventually, through a couple of needs for deep breathing and a handful of assurances that it was okay to cry—he appreciated that, but he kept the crying to his room after these long-ass shifts and if Robin stayed for some of those times, that was because she was half his head, half his heart, and she knew what he was going to do sometimes before he did.

They did end up on the floor of his bathroom, a clean one for once, at one point. Maybe because they both held to tradition. Maybe because Steve had largely come to terms with the mindfuck of yet another piece of his world, his self unravelling and rewriting itself, and thought the vodka in his dad’s liquor cabinet was a good way to celebrate. The label was entirely in Russian and Robin had been practicing on hers, said she was pretty sure it was the good shit.

Sometimes you can drink enough of the best shit on an empty stomach, though, and still spew the whole of it up.

Steve sometimes does think he drinks his dad’s best liquor that way on purpose, though. Delightful going down and yeah, it sucks to chuck it up but. The idea that it’s ultimately wasted feels…right.

Anyway: Steve had settled with it all by New Year's, and while he’d hosted the rugrats who could only blabber about their latest campaign with their epic DM, and he’d kissed Robin when the clock turned, well. It felt like a new start, a fresh page.

Something that had the chance at being a good thing.

And nothing much happened in the two-and-a-half-months that followed save for finally catching a glimpse of the D&D god who ran their little club while he was idling in his car to pick up the shitheads, this legendary DM who did not make Steve jealous one tiny bit and who was cool and was edgy and was so fuckin’ cool, Steve, did we tell you got cool he is?! and Steve had said language as monotone as he could before he squinted as out came all the metal and the ink and he’d said your club president dude is Eddie goddamn Munson and he should have kept his mouth shut because the amount of talking that ensued left him with a headache the size of Montana; but.

That was really all that happened until about…mid-March.

Then Spring Break happened.

It could be argued Eddie and Steve grew close enough to pass the acquaintances benchmark, ended up as at least tentative friends on top of necessary battle mates as early as the Upside Down. Whatever reason Eddie gave, he jumped in after Steve. Whatever speech Steve landed on, he didn’t want Dustin orEddie hurt.

It could be argued Steve wasn’t paying attention and didn’t stop in time and landed in the land of Tentative Friends You Wouldn’t Mind Added Benefits With after the…at least after the way Eddie leaned in close and his lips we so red and he called Steve big boy and…

Yeah.

When Steve carries what may or may not be Eddie’s still fucking corpse out of the Upside Down—he can’t tell, every time he tries to check again his own heart's too loud, his own breaths too shaky—but by then, they’re family. Bound in blood. Steve would die for him, like the others. He won’t let him die, if he can fucking help it.

Between him and Max, Steve almost crashes, breaks. Steve’s there when Max’s fingers twitch and he laughs with tears in his eyes and hands over hands and tells her he loves her and he’s sorry and he’s there, tries to talk around the letter he opened and resealed without evidence because Steve knows some tricks too, okay, and her words had broken him but now he could live up to what she thought she was leaving behind, could make sure she had every goddamn thing she thought she was giving up in spades, to roll around in in abundance. He was going to take care of her, whatever she needed. Whatever it took.

Her lips had quirked and the doctors called coincidence, don’t get your hopes up but; Steve knew Max. That was all her.

And there were more tears, he let her fucking feel them; he fucking hoped she’d notice, and remember, and give him so much shit.

Eddie takes longer, pulls out of the woods enough to exhale a few days later, and the way Steve slips out to find the hospital chapel, the only goddamn place he won’t be found by anyone he knows, and bawls his goddamn eyes out?

It’s family, and it’s love because it’s family but…it’s been so quick. It’s been intense, and that probably speeds it along but…

Shit. Shit.

That’s when Steve knows he sets a new goddamn record for himself and falls hard and heavy and stupidin, like, a week and change. Jesus Christ.

It’s in the recovery that they build something though. Something that’s not trauma or terror or the threat of imminent death. Steve spends most of his hours between two hospital rooms listening to progress reports and taking notes and the kids gravitate toward Max—Dustin would have been the outlier but Steve knows he’s not ready, and so he gives his own updates just to his brother when he drives him home after visiting hours—but that means Steve’s Eddie’s most common conversation partner. They talk about bullshit. Steve defends a-ha to the last breath he has. Eddie’s rendered speechless for a second and then frantic when challenged to pick his favorite band. Again when it’s his favorite song, from his favorite band. And again when it’s his favorite song of any song, ever at all. Steve's heart swells in the watching. He’s foolish enough to bask in the glittering of Eddie’s eyes when Steve indulges in talking, scene by scene as guided by the master in the bed beside him, about what his opinions on Star Wars really were. And then guided by no one, just invited to share what his opinions are on the last movie he saw and loved: which was Weird Science, the last movie he watched in a theatre because he and Robin had gone to face their fear or some shit after Starcourt and it was easier than he’d expected. Eddie listens, and nods, and asks if they can rent it when he’s out, before making sure to add but you should really have a new choice like, eight months later, man, you work at a video store.

Steve was mostly just focused on Eddie more than implying, of his own volition, that he wanted to have a movie night.

Eddie’s released before Max, largely for mobility reasons, so they both go to visit her now. Robin’s put on the night shift when they schedule their movie night and Steve immediately moves to reschedule but she says no, she’s seen it, make Eddie suffer this time. So it’s just them.

They sit closer than they have to, on the couch.

And it’s little things that build from there. Max’s physical therapy is a government secret, like some fancy space-age protocol that has real hopes to put her on her feet again so she needs a ride, and while they could take turns, Steve and Eddie just take turns as to which vehicle they hop into to drive her. They stay when she needs them—not when she asks because she’s Max and she never asks—but it ends up three days a week back and forth and during: together.

And a lot of nights, for a movie or a smoke or a nightmare or a pulled stitch before they’re all taken out: together.

And shifts where Steve doesn’t even bother to bring his own lunch because Eddie Munson, unpredictable and wholly forgetful super-super senior—who Nancy and Hopper and most of all Joyce convinced the School would be finishing his final senior year at home save for tests, and only that once he was cleared by his doctors—that Eddie Munson brought Steve something every single time he worked. A burger, a chili dog, chicken fucking nuggets. A PB&J clearly homemade and cut diagonal.

So yeah. It starts out how it does when Steve’s in trouble. But it builds like…Steve’s never known before.

They kiss in May. Maybe so that it’s not their first, and a total cliche, when Steve kisses him for graduation behind the bleachers.

The sleep together after graduation, high on the thrill of it, and that’s maybe a cliche but Steve could not give a shit less.

And then they're EddieandSteve, only to find out they have been for a while; and this is just something a little deeper, a little bit more.

In ways that mean everything.

Looking back, Steve knows Eddie never minced words about his plan to leave Hawkins in the fall. With a mixtape and a prayer if I have to, Stevie-boy, he’d said once even, and Steve had laughed.

He’d fucking laughed.

So he’d known.

But July bleeds into August and Steve…Steve’s in love, okay, for real in a way that he’s never felt before. Right in a way he’s never felt before. He kinda just…overlooks it. Because Eddie seems to be at least on the same wavelength. Touches him first, reaches for him first: wants him. Looks at him with not just desire or attraction but…something no one’s ever looked at Steve with before.

And so he hopes. More than hopes.

But when Eddie starts packing, Steve can’t breathe.

He buys a set of luggage and goes home to start the same, has half of his not-excessive possessions shoved in when he realizes:

He’s not invited. Eddie’s never asked him to come.

Looking back, he’s afraid he wasted too much of those last weeks. Scared of giving too much away, the hurt from so many sides and the heartache that’s already taking root, but also: the way he clings, but tries not to make it obvious.

Fuck; but of course it was gonna be obvious, and how much energy did he waste, how many opportunities slipped by, because Steve was trying not to give away that Eddie leaving—to get away from a town that hated him, to try and make a real go with his music, to be anywhere without Steve so he could live out the dreams that predated Steve, that Steve had no place in—to try not to give away that all of it; it’d fucking destroy him.

Steve doesn’t know, to this day, how he stood and let Eddie kiss him breathless out the driver-side window, how he waved until Eddie was out of sight. He doesn’t know.

Kind of like he doesn’t know how he fucking keeps doing it.

Eddie throws tapes to every radio station with Van Halen or other top-played bands written on the insert in sharpie like that gives nothing away, and sneaks a demo in every underpaid delivery boy’s hands to record executives as he drives to the West Coast, sends Steve postcards what seems like has to be every goddamn day, filled up with his rambling until there’s no space left, has to draw lines around Steve’s address to make it clear where the damn thing’s going lest it get confused. Like they’re SteveandEddie still. Like only…only the things that changed after graduation are gone.

Steve sobs after about a month of it all, grateful and resentful, hateful and still so goddamn full of love it’s sickening. Literally, it makes him feel nauseous. He…

He keeps every postcard.

When one of them comes to say some idiot in San Francisco accidentally played Corroded Coffin on what’s apparently an important station, and Eddie got a letter in response from one of the labels, he says he’s coming back for the boys, they need to be ready. Steve knows he’s not one of the boys, but.

Eddie wouldn’t have told Steve he was coming if it wouldn’t matter to Steve. And maybe Eddie wasn’t in love with him anymore, maybe never was in love with him.

But he’d be lying if he said he thought Eddie didn’t love him. In a different way. A…you-don’t-get-to-come-with-me-but-I’d-still-want-to-see-you-when-I-stop-back kind of way.

And Steve…Steve’s not a fucking monk or anything. But even Robin doesn’t try to push him when he finally just tells her what he feels, lovesick and pathetic as it is:

I gave everything I had to someone else, and it’d be different if I wanted to back, to give again, but…I don’t.

I don’t want it back, not from him. Not if any part of him, wants to keep any part of it.

And because she’s Robin, she knows he means something else when he says ‘it’. And because she’s Robin? She’d push if she thought it was worth it.

She just holds him, and that’s really the best thing he could ask for.

But it becomes a thing. The boys go with Eddie, and they record new shit to impress...whoever. And they do. They come back for Halloween, because Eddie loves it. The label’s dragging its feet, but they’re not deterred, they’re energized. They come back for Thanksgiving because Wayne loves it—except he doesn’t, Steve knows that, Wayne actually hates trying to make a bird and Eddie had lamented more than once that they ended up with lunchmeat cut into cubes one year when Wayne was particularly frustrated with the process. They go out East, and try a few studios in New York. They come back for Christmas.

Eddie spends most of his time with Steve. Steve doesn’t fucking fight that; wants it…like…

There’s nothing to compare how he wants it to. Nothing exists that fits.

Eddie spends most of the time that he spends with Steve, though?

In Steve’s bed.

And here’s the thing: Steve had a decent amount of experience to compare to, but once they’d fallen into a rhythm, got past the awkward bits, the learning curve? Sex with Eddie had been a goddamn revelation. Not just because he was a man—after he’d left, Steve had forced himself to try, and dispelled that possibility quick as hell—and now?

Now, it’s like they never stopped. Every fucking time, it’s like they never stopped.

Steve’s not surprised in the slightest that he remembers every give and tell of Eddie’s body—of course he goddamn does—but that Eddie doesn’t miss a beat in touching, sucking, licking, worshippingSteve’s? That’s insane. That’s…

Unexpected. Every time it’s unexpected and every time Steve’s shown he wasn’t forgotten when he probably should have been. Eddie’s building a life that doesn’t include him.

He’ll only get in the way.

But Steve is selfish and stubborn and maybe it’s often, like almost strangely so, but it’s only a week or two at a go so he tells himself he’s allowed. He tells himself that it felt like making love in the beginning because Steve was in love, and that it still feels exactly the same because Steve…Steve never stopped.

Steve is still just as goddamn in love.

So yeah. Steve sleeps with Eddie and it’s like…it’s like rationed air. He gets a regular taste and he gets to keep breathing.

And it’s okay. Probably more then. Because he gets Eddie—even a little bit. Even just in scraps. When he has Eddie?

He has him, even for moments that were never made to last.

It’s Easter, this time. The band put out their first record in January. It’s doing really well. Eddie’s over the moon. Someone called about a magazine cover for a publication in Cleveland that’s apparently kind of a big deal, Alt..something. Steve will buy every copy in a fucking 100-mile radius. 200 miles. 500—

It’s Easter. Eddie didn’t lament not celebrating it after Spring Break in ‘86 but he’s back every year now. And if it’s just…come to mean something, or maybe did then and circumstances won out against it? Steve will be here. Steve will be comfort and a reprieve or a hot as hell romp with a familiar body, Steve will…

Yeah. Steve will do whatever’s needed. Wanted. Anything.

Pathetic.

But so much better than nothing.

Case in point: they’re both naked, sweat mostly dried, sharing a joint and it’s comfortable. It’s quiet and gentle and put up against sitting alone on a weeknight, not with Eddie?

It’s heaven.

“So when’s the dream happening?”

Steve looks cross-eyed toward his lips; he hasn’t smoked this thing long enough to have heard wrong. He squints up at Eddie, whose chest he’s laid out on, confused. Offers him the smoke but he waves it away.

“The dream?” Steve asks finally, when Eddie doesn’t seem to want to answer on his own.

Eddie looks at him weird. Not weird for its own sake but like: like he’s staring into him, and then like he’s disbelieving, but then also like he’s seeing him for the first time.

That kind of weird.

“Getting the fuck out of here,” Eddie answers like it’s obvious. “White picket fence. Little nuggets.” He spreads his hands as wide as possible without tossing Steve from where he lies. “See the sights.”

And Steve’s response is immediate. Doesn’t even require a thought.

He laughs. Like, ugly-laughs.

“Man,” he shakes his head as he catches his breath, and passes the joint off this time with purpose, not an offer or a choice as he snorts a little; “that’s not the dream.”

When Eddie doesn’t grab the smoke, Steve finally looks up. Eddie…

Eddie looks like what Steve’s always struggled to understand the word ‘poleaxed’ to mean. He thinks it might be this.

He looks…like something stuck him through the gut. Slapped him silly across the face.

“What d’ya mean?” And it’s just three words, one that’s a cheat, and he says it slow enough to take an age.

Steve breathes out, and then, if he’s gonna be honest, and if he has to keep holding the damn thing anyway, decides to take another drag before speaking:

“Figured out what the dream was, inside the dream,” Steve says, wondering if he’ll get away with the vagary; knowing he won’t.

“All we see or seem?” Eddie jokes a little, but it falls flat, his tone eerily kinda…strained but hollow.

“I like poetry.” Steve smiles up at him, soft, and offers the joint again straight to Eddie’s lips. He takes it this time.

“It was about family. It was about stability, not,” Steve shakes his head, stops talking half-assed around the lungful he’s holding, and lets it out slow; “not in a place, fuck, not in a house, but,” a person he doesn’t say, but he hears it in his head; “it was about sharing it.”

And that's it. That’s the simplest, most straightforward truth. Steve doesn’t think there’s anything complicated, or offensive in it. Hard to swallow. Even if he’s come to terms with it. Is mostly at peace with it.

Which is why it’s weird, that Eddie feels suddenly rigid beneath him.

So Steve turns, and braces his hand on Eddie's chest for balance, and frowns when he doesn’t even have to push down to feel the way his heart’s a fucking riot.

“What?” Steve asks, gentle; Eddie’s face is a portrait of conflict, of distress and Steve can’t fucking figure out why, they just came like four times between them and are sharing some very nice Cali weed—they’re nestled close, they’re together, it’s…

Eddie’s quiet, his breath disconcertingly steady for how his pulse pounds, and then he breathes out slow before covering his face:

“I don’t think I can fuck this up any worse than I already have, so,” he mutters, dejected for reasons Steve can’t even guess, then he laughs, humorless, shakes his head:

“Let me try, I guess.”

Steve frowns, uncomprehending, until:

“I’ve been in love with you forever.”

Steve thinks the world stops. His heart does, at least. Suspended. Silent so he doesn’t miss a syllable.

“And I told myself,” Eddie bites at his lip, worries at the bottom swell; “end of that summer, from the very first, I said: don’t ask him to come with you, even if it breaks your heart,” and oh god, oh god after all this time: Steve doesn’t think he’s projecting to hear the genuinely broken heart in those words for just remembering.

“Don’t ask him to settle, you’re not even in the same universe of what he wants,” fuck, what lies Eddie’s saying; did he believe them? Has he always—“what he needs.”

But Eddie is everything he needs, always was, will always be—

“You’ll never have the picket fence. You can’t give him his nuggets. You should never be trusted to park a Winnebago.”

They could have had a shitty studio apartment. They could have had the kids in college. They could have run the BMW until it died, or sold it to put toward a better van for equipment. They could have—

“You’re selfish, Munson, you’re a rat fucking bastard but,” Eddie’s still going, heart still hammering under Steve’s touch even as Eddie swallows hard and fails to smile, looks ill with the attempt like it hurts to try: “you love him too much for that.”

Oh. Oh god.

“It didn’t break my heart, though,” Eddie clears his throat and glances away, to the ceiling, eyes too bright: oh fuck; “broke my goddamn soul,” and a tear falls, and Steve can’t help but wipe it away, and kiss the track. Even just once.

So he does.

“When I saw you again that first time back,” Eddie starts again, voice rougher and shakier as he reaches a hand for Steve’s. “I could have asked the boys to fly out, the execs offered, but,” and this time, the attempt to grin is more successful, like a weight’s lifted from it: “and you smiled at me, it felt like,” and when he shakes his head this time it’s for disbelief, but the kind that comes with awe; “and when we slotted back together like we’d never been apart, it was…”

Eddie’s voice trails, but it cracks at the end—Steve doesn’t know which does more to stop his words.

He’s grateful, relieved, when they come back. He’s powerless but to give when Eddie touches his cheek so gentle and breathes:

“And I had to tell myself again, and again,” he murmurs, stroking Steve’s skin like he’s precious: “you love him too much to take his dream away from him.”

“What did it matter?” Steve can’t help but ask, no malice in it, just the need to understand. “You had your dream, you have—“

They have a contract. They have an album climbing the charts. They’re not just on their way—they’re there. The only next step is to get bigger, and bigger, and—

“Dreams within dreams, wasn’t it?” Eddie murmurs close to Steve’s cheek, where maybe he’s pressing to be close, or maybe he’s hiding a little, so Steve strokes his hair because he can either way and relishes how Eddie leans, melts into it like always. “Inside the dream?”

Steve nods, more to encourage more words. More Eddie.

“Break my dream open and there’s you with me, every step,” Eddie whispers, his lips warm on Steve’s skin. “Break my heart open, same damn thing,” and that causes Steve to shudder, and his heart to pick up now, too. “Both just kinda crumble if you take out the center.”

Steve can’t quite believe what he’s hearing. Wants to. Doesn’t think they’re lies. It’s just, he…

“Those,” Steve tries to speak but his voice cracks; he clears his throat and kicks his lips while he tucks Eddie into his neck, under his chin: “those would be good lyrics.”

“No,” Eddie shakes his head and nuzzles Steve’s throat with the motion and this can’t be happening.

This can’t be happening, can it?

“No, those words were only ever meant just for you.”

And Eddie kisses the pulse point close to his mouth and holds there, like a sentry and a miser, and holy shit.

Holy shit.

“And I don’t know,” Eddie’s saying more, but it’s pitchy, thready, like he’s barely holding the words together at all; “I don’t know if it’s nostalgia, or convenience, or routine,” his voice breaks again and the sob’s in the word when it comes even if it’s not streaming down on his cheeks: “pity,” and no, no, not fucking ever, how—

“I was never your dream then, and I don’t even know if I can be your inside-dream now, and,” Eddie’s rambling, and he does that when he’s desperate, when he’s overwhelmed and overfull with feeling—and Steve knows that. Steve knows that about him.

Steve knows. Better than he knows himself, Steve still knows him.

“I just want the world for you,” Eddie whispers, stroking up and down Steve’s jaw; “my sweetheart. My sunshine,” he smiles so real and soft and Steve melts, like the heart in his chest starts spilling through his ribs, warm and liquid: “you deserve more than the world, more than fuckin’ me and I,” Eddie shakes his head again, more this time like he’s stopping himself, like it’s a defense mechanism and Steve reaches for his cheeks, broad palms on either side to hold him still because…he doesn’t want Eddie to stop.

Ever.

“Did I ruin it?” Eddie breathes, and barely at that, eyes so wide and swimming and oh, god; “did I—"

And Steve can’t help it. He can’t help but kiss him with all he’s got, even if it couldn’t be all Eddie’s worth in all the world. Steve can’t contain all that Eddie’s worth.

But he can give everything, because this is the man who already has it.

“What the hell was I supposed to be to a rockstar?” Steve tries to talk through his own tight throat, his own growing smile, his own threat of tears bubbling close to the surface. “How the fuck was I ever going to measure up, ever do anything but hold you back when you could have—“

“I come back to you, for you,” Eddie answers immediate; it’s not what Steve’s asking but he won’t lie and say he didn’t want to know, at least a little. “The handful of times I’ve tried,” Eddie shakes his head once now, definitive; “I have always left my everything with you.”

The idea that Steve’s spent all this time feeling empty, and hollow, and missing the best of himself where it lived in the man he loved—the idea he was wrong, that they both were so fucking wrong is…insanity.

“I had a bag half packed.”

Steve doesn’t need to explain further. The noise Eddie makes is pure pain.

“Baby,” he nearly croons, falls into Steve somehow closer, wraps him up tighter; “I wanted to kidnap you in the night.”

“I sobbed in my bed after you were out of sight.”

“I pulled over before the town sign, because I couldn’t see the goddamn road.”

And Steve…Steve doesn’t really have a decision to make about what he says next. What dream he wants; always has.

“I never got rid of the luggage.”

And Eddie hears everything he says in those words, because after everything, Eddie Munson knows him, and…yeah.

Steve’s been kissed in a lot of ways before. By this man in particular, even.

But this: if leaving broke Eddie’s soul, if somehow the lack of Steve somehow did that?

This is…this is the body meeting another body, heart to heart and tasting the way a soul slides back in place. It's Eddie’s hands in his hair like hell never let go and he’s happy about the idea; blissful for it, even. It’s—beyond anything Steve’s ever known. So: yeah.

It’s not a decision. It’s just a fucking given.

♥️

🎸also on ao3

✨permanent tag list: OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @ajeff855 @askitwithflours @awkwardgravity1 @bookworm0690 @bumblebeecuttlefishes @captain--low @depressed-freak13 @dragoon-ze-great @dreamercec @dreamwatch @dreamy-jeans137 @estrellami-1 @goodolefashionedloverboi @grtwdsmwhr @gunsknivesandplaid @hiei-harringtonmunson @hbyrde36 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @kimsnooks @live-laugh-love-dietrich @mensch-anthropos-human @nerdyglassescheeseychick @notaqueenakhaleesi @ollyxar @pearynice @perseus-notjackson @pretend-theres-a-name-here

divider credit here

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #future fic #post s5 #angst with a happy ending #miscommunication #romance #tenderness #fluff #rock star eddie munson #steve harrington stays in hawkins #fuck buddy #but does it count if you’re exes and your still friends and you do it all the time?#like it can’t even be reunion sex because one party is always finding and excuse to come back #and it can’t even be make-up sex because they didn’t FIGHT they just…were DONE #chasing your dreams #(and recognizing when those dreams sometimes change)#yes eddie walked away from a once-in-a-lifetime kind of love #(he had his reasons I promise)#yes he makes detours to hawkins almost confusingly often for a successful musician 🤨#(YES he ends up in steve’s bed every time)#happy ending #stranger things #eddie munson bingo #hitlikehammers v words #hitlikehammers writes

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boybandbaby · 2 days ago

Text

Secret (Evan Buckley x SingleMom!Reader)

word count: 1343

warnings/tags: nervous buck, 18+ mdni (mention of sex), as always please let me know if i missed anything

note: part of my single mom reader universe which can be found here

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

Buck had noticed your change in demeanor from the first two dates. He thought things had been going well but he’s starting to second guess himself.

He starts to think that maybe he had worked up this idea that things with you could be end game. I mean it was only your third date and he was already thinking of engagement rings.

He had been scolded by each member of the team and his sister when he asked Chimney which ring shop he went to. They all told him to slow his roll and not to get ahead of himself. Though they were excited for him and his new situationship, they didn't want him to get too ahead of himself.

He wonders if maybe you had noticed that he was beginning to really have feelings for you. Maybe now you had found him creepy or too pushy or too needy. Was he texting you too much? Was he asking to see you too much? Had he made you uncomfortable and now you were trying to figure out how to break things off already?

Then he remembered a joking comment from Eddie on yesterday's shift. He had been discussing the movie you picked out for both of you to see and that he was really excited to spend more time with you.

"How long have you guys been seeing each other?" Eddie had asked.

"We've been talking for a little over a month but it's officially our third date." Buck replied, buttoning his shirt up.

"Ooh, third date? You know what that means." Eddie wiggled his eyebrows. Buck knew he said it to be funny but now Buck wonders if you maybe live by the ridiculous rule of sleeping together after the third date.

What if you’re expecting sex tonight? Or what if you’re freaking out about him wanting sex tonight? Or what if you don’t want sex with him at all, ever?

Buck can feel himself sweating through his shirt in the very well air conditioned movie theatre. He’s glad it’s somewhat dark or he’s sure you could see the sweat beads rolling off his forehead. He knows you very well may be able to see him as he can see your face clearly in the light from the screen.

You’re quieter today. Face bright under the movie lights with a small smile that has a hint of nervousness in it. The popcorn bowl is still quite full and candy boxes unopened despite both of you stating you loved movie snacks.

You spend the entire movie silent and rigid in your seats. Your hands found each others' the first two dates. The first time over the table at dinner and the second time on the car console on your way to the beach. Now, they lay in your lap and his on the arm rests. You're itching to hold his hand but you're just too nervous about the secret you're holding in.

Buck knows he has to confront you kindly after the movie about what’s going on and hopefully reassure you he’s not in this just for sex. So as you’re both finally leaving the theatre, the last ones, he goes to speak when you do first. “That was a good movie, right?”

“Yeah, yeah. I enjoyed it.” He smiles, hands in his pockets as you stand in the cold, face illuminated by the neon lights of the signs out front. Buck cannot remember who was even in the movie, let alone the plot. “Look, I wanted to talk to you about something…” he trails off.

“Oh? Um, yeah sure.” You look around and guide him to a near by metal bench. “Everything okay?”

Internally, you’re spiraling. You know you haven’t been acting normal tonight but you hoped that he would just ignore it. You’ve only known him for a few short weeks but you know parts of him by now. You know Buck has a habit of overthinking things so you’re sure he’s picked up on it. You’re wondering if somehow he knows your secret.

“I know it’s our third date and there’s this like third date rule that people follow. I just want you to know that I’m not expecting anything from you. I hope that’s not why you’ve been quiet all night. I know we’re still getting to know each other but I hope you know that I would never try to pressure you into doing something you weren’t comfortable with.” Buck rambles, hands flexing and squeezing on his thighs. He can feel sweat accumulating on his palms and he realizes he hasn’t even looked at your face since he started talking.

When he looks up, your eyes are slightly glossy and he’s not sure what he’s said to make you…upset?

“Y/n…”

“I have a daughter!” You blurt. When you search his face for any sort of information on how he’s feeling about this news, you’re met with furrowed brows, mouth slightly agape, and silence. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled it out like that. All night I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you. It’s the third date and yes I’m aware of the third date rule but I of course know you weren’t trying to sleep with me. I just figured the third date is either make or break and it was time for me to tell you about my daughter. You know, that way you can decide if you want to continue seeing me or get out before it goes any further.”

“What’s uhhhh, what’s her name?” He stutters.

“Her name is Evie. She just recently turned 7. Her father isn’t in the picture but that’s a story for another time.” You wave off. “What do you think? Or like how are you feeling about all this? I'm so sorry I haven't said anything up until now."

“It’s doesn’t change how I feel about you. I’m surprised, sure, but I know you probably kept it a secret for a reason. I can’t imagine it’s easy being a single parent and trying to date.”

“It’s not just that. I don’t want to bring someone around her until I know that it’s serious and it hardly gets to the serious state. I really like you but I was scared this would scare you away. I’m also scared that we’ll get in too deep and you’ll realize you don’t want to be with a woman who has a kid or that the other shoe will drop and you’ll be this horrible evil guy.” You finally grab his hand. "But I know you're not a bad guy."

“Just breathe.” Buck kisses your knuckles. “Breathe, babe. I totally understand where you’re coming from. We'll take this as slow as you want. Your daughter comes first and I want to be part of your life and eventually hers if you'll let me."

"You're seriously so sweet, Buck." You pull him in for a hug. "I don't want to force you to stay or make you feel like you have to be okay with this."

"You're not forcing me to do anything. I really really like you and I want to make this work. I'll be as involved as you'll let me and I'll be patient with you just like you are with me and my job." He rubs your back before kissing your forehead. "Please don't ever scare me like that again, though. I was freaking out the entire movie."

"I'm sorry! I was nervous!" You laugh. "I could barely pay attention to what was happening."

"I don't even remember what movie we were watching." He smiles. "You want to go for ice cream? Or do you have a curfew?"

"Shut up, I don't have a curfew." You push his shoulder. "I could go for ice cream, as long as you're buying."

"I think you should buy me ice cream since you had me on edge all night." He winks. "Come on, milfy."

"Evan!" Your eyes widen as he starts running to his car. "I can't believe you just said that!"

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

#911 abc #911 x you #evan buckley x reader #911 x reader #evan buckley x you #evan buckley x y/n #evan buckley

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gingerteafairy · 2 days ago

Note

Hii, you could do some Dave doing. Where the reader has curly hair, and she has always told Dave to define their curls, so one day they try it and he likes it. So every day before she goes to school she goes to his house to do it. that has a lot, a lot of lint.

I've always imagined Dave as the silly boyfriend who is so in love that he lets himself be done by his girlfriend, so why not

hi! sure, he's definitely like this. as a curly hair girl, that's basically the dream goal. hope you like it!

𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐬 ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

tags n warnings: fluff, dave lizewski x reader. word count: 1.6k masterlist

Dave considered your hair a masterpiece. It was so defined, so mesmerizing. It was impossible not to want to touch it, and he felt honored to be the only person you allowed to mess up the perfect finish just a little. But he wasn’t the only one admiring the curls, because you loved Dave’s curls too, and that was exactly why you knocked on his door an hour before school.

"Babe, what the hell are you doin' here this early?" he groaned, still half-asleep, opening the door and squinting through his glasses. He had that look of someone who was very much not a morning person.

"I came to give you a really good surprise," you said, your voice full of excitement, stepping inside and immediately getting out of the freezing cold air outside.

"Really?" he perked up, rubbing his eyes as he walked past you to close the door. He came back and wrapped you up in a hug, not letting go as you made your way into the kitchen. As you walked, he inhaled deeply, clearly appreciating the scent of your curls. "What is it?"

You set the bowl on the counter and pulled off the cloth covering it. "Voilá."

Dave leaned his head over your shoulder to peek at what you were hiding. "What is this?"

"Cinnamon rolls," you explained, slipping out of his embrace and moving around the kitchen with a confidence that made it feel like you lived there—partly because you practically did at this point. You opened cabinets, pulled out flour, and grabbed a cutting board. From your backpack, you pulled out a rolling pin and a small bowl filled with a shiny, thick liquid.

"Is that the filling?" Dave asked, clearly intrigued as he leaned over to get a better look. "Smells amazing."

"Yep, we’re gonna spread it on the dough, and you’re gonna help me," you said, smiling sweetly as you motioned for him to join you. He nodded enthusiastically, ready to dive in.

Making cinnamon rolls at the crack of dawn wasn’t exactly Dave’s idea of a perfect morning, but seeing how excited you were, he felt this weird urge to get involved in your little surprise. You’d always talked about how cool it would be to cook together on a date. But really, you couldn’t have chosen a better time?

"You’re gonna roll out the dough with this pin, spread the filling, and make little rolls," you explained, demonstrating your technique.

"Like this?" Dave asked, raising an eyebrow, his hands moving with surprising skill.

"Exactly like that!" you said with a big grin, grabbing some more dough. "You’re good at this, Dave. You’ll make a great helper for my next surprise."

"Wait, there’s more?" he groaned dramatically, raising an eyebrow as he finished shaping another roll.

"Oh yeah, and the cinnamon rolls will be your reward," you teased, noticing the dough was almost finished.

"Alright, alright," he grinned, still playing along. Minutes later, the rolls were shaped perfectly, and you placed them in the oven.

"Now, Dave, we’ve got the baking time to work on the next part of the surprise. Let’s head to the bathroom," you announced with a playful glint in your eyes, heading up the stairs. Dave followed, still a little confused.

"You’re way too mysterious," he laughed, glancing at you over his shoulder as you shot him a mischievous smile. "See? This is what I’m talkin’ about."

Once inside the bathroom, you closed the door behind you. You pulled your backpack off your shoulder, rummaged through it, and pulled out two containers, holding them up for him to see. "You're gonna shower and wash your hair with this."

"Is this part of the mystery, or are you gonna tell me what this stuff is?" Dave asked, his curiosity growing as he took off his glasses and set them down on the sink.

"You’ve always said you love my hair, so I figured I’d do yours the way I do mine," you said, raising an eyebrow, expecting him to catch on. But there was a clear look of confusion on his face followed by a shake of his head. "Come on, Dave. Please?" you pleaded, leaning in closer, and giving him your best puppy-dog eyes.

He squinted, pressing his lips together in thought. "Ugh... Fine, why not?" he finally agreed, flashing you a playful smile before pulling off his shirt and getting ready to hop in the shower. He glanced at you over his shoulder as he grabbed the waistband of his shorts. "Gonna stare at me the whole time?"

"I need to make sure you’re doing it right," you said with a straight face, although you could feel a smile creeping up.

Dave mumbled something about being embarrassed under his breath, pouting in that way that made you melt. You couldn’t help but smile, shaking your head at how adorable he was.

"Fine, but follow the instructions. Leave the mask on for five minutes, just like it says on the package," you said, giving him one last set of instructions before closing the bathroom door.

"You got it!" he called from inside, and you walked back to his bedroom to wait for him.

You prepared everything you needed: hair cream, split-end repair serum, gel, brushes, microfiber towels—everything to make his hair look perfect. You had to admit, this was so much fun, and you were excited to see the results.

Minutes later, Dave came back, a towel wrapped around his waist, water dripping everywhere.

"My hair’s never been this soft, check it out," he said, pulling a lock of his hair to show you. "It’s shiny. Is there glitter in this stuff?"

"Nope, babe. Just a good treatment mask," you laughed, turning away so he could get dressed in private.

"It smells just like those cinnamon rolls you’re making," he said, pulling on the bottom half of his clothes and choosing a shirt. "You can turn around now."

You turned back around and found him sitting on the bed, looking so cute and relaxed. You sat next to him, placing all the hair tools beside him. "Why all the stuff? Don’t you just brush it?"

“No, Dave. And to be honest, I do this every time I get ready,” you laughed, starting to comb through his hair to get rid of any tangles. “My hair doesn’t just get perfect on its own, you know?”

“But it is perfect on you…” he complimented, looking up at you, his eyes locking with yours. “I’m scared I’m gonna look like a damn clown.”

“You won’t, Dave,” you giggled, grabbing a towel to dry off the excess moisture from his hair and continuing to comb. “I’ve always wanted to do this to your hair, you know? Your hair is so beautiful.”

He shook his head slightly, confused. You took some oil in your hands, rubbed it together, and spread it through the length of his hair. Then, you grabbed some cream and worked it through evenly. Finally, you picked up some gel, and Dave raised an eyebrow.

“What’s that?” he asked, his face making a disgusted cat-like expression.

“Gel.”

“I know what it is, but why do you need it?” he asked, leaning in closer to smell it.

“To make your curls last longer,” you explained, applying a little and scrunching it to enhance his curls. “Done! First part's all set.”

“First?” he asked, his voice sounding a little whiny.

You cupped his face in your hands, giving him a quick kiss on the lips before pulling away to look at him. “Just one more step and we’re done, okay?”

“That’s a low blow,” he mumbled, then laughed softly. You grabbed a towel to wipe off the cream that had dripped onto his face, then went for the blow dryer with an attachment. “Now this I have no idea what it is.”

“It’s a diffuser,” you laughed, plugging it in and adjusting the device to work on his hair. “It helps dry the curls without damaging them or making them frizzy.”

“Whoa, this is a whole new world,” he said, his voice full of enthusiasm as he soaked in every moment of this pampering session. You were close to him, giving him special attention to make sure he looked perfect.

“Finished,” you announced after a while, adding a little more split-end repair serum to loosen his curls. “Okay, you can take a look.”

You stepped back so Dave could get up and walk over to the mirror. He touched his curls, laughing lightly and admiring how they turned out. “Wow… it’s like doll hair,” he whispered, pulling at one of the curls with his hand. “It looks like yours.”

“That’s because this is how I do it,” you smiled, walking over to him. “When you do it yourself, just grab a section of your hair and roll it like a cinnamon roll.”

“So that’s why you brought me the cinnamon rolls,” he rolled his eyes, smiling at you. “You’re clever. But just one thing… don’t your arms hurt from doing all that?”

“A little, but you get used to it,” you shrugged, still admiring his curls. The timer on the oven dinged. “The rolls are ready. Let’s eat and head to school.”

“Sounds good!” Dave grinned, and you both made your way to the kitchen. Dave loved the cinnamon rolls, and as always, everything you did seemed to be perfect. You packed some of the cinnamon rolls into a bag to take to school, and Dave grinned. “If I get these rolls every time I let you do my hair, I might just go buy that infuser thing.”

“It’s diffuser,” you corrected him, laughing. “And maybe I can reward you with that.”

That ended up becoming a routine, where you would do his hair every morning before school, sometimes even doing your own hair alongside his. It was kind of a fun little ritual, especially since the day before you’d been too lazy to do yours, and you took the opportunity to spend just a little more time with your gorgeous, curly-haired boyfriend.

#dave lizewski x reader #dave lizewski x y/n #dave lizewski x you #dave lizewski fanfiction #dave lizewski #x reader #reader insert #imagine #fanfic #aaron taylor johnson x you #aaron taylor johnson x reader #aaron taylor johnson fandom #aaron taylor johnson

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truelotus · 2 days ago

Note

Hello, I really liked it💜💜

I don't mind if you ask, My beloved Aizen

It was a deal that Aizen had to defeat Yhwach. And they bring her to him. He makes her pregnant and carries his child.

𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐧

Character: Sosuke Aizen

Warning : Vaginal Sex, female reader, pregnancy, unprotected sex, missionary, dominant aizen, submissive reader, dirty talking + more

The head captain, Shunsui Kyoraku. Had come down to the muken prison. To make a deal with one of the most notorious criminal.

The soul society was at an unimaginable loss right now, they were going to need help. He had no shame coming to this man for help, he was more ashamed of the deal he was about to make with this man.

“I’m not asking for you to fight for the soul society, but.. if you did. I’m willing to bring her to you.”

This caught Aizen’s attention, he wasn’t shocked to learn that you were still alive, but the fact that he could see you once again.. it brought him to pure joy.

Sosuke Aizen had little regrets, but his biggest regret would have to be getting himself sealed away to muken prison. Sealed far away from you.. he thought about the actions he did but never once felt guilty about anything. What he really did feel guilty about was leaving you out there alone.

Maybe it was a selfish thought of his but, he wished that you too, could be sealed away with him.

“I see.”

Aizen stepped forward, “Though I cannot say I am fond of your use of her in this manner. The opportunity to see her once more, leaves me with little room to refuse.”

Shunsui chuckled at his words, “I’ll go fetch her for you then.”

You were in the middle of healing somebody with your kaidō skills, you are very skilled with kaidō so instead of fighting you were healing everyone you saw was injured.

Just then, you could hear footsteps approaching behind you. You quickly turned your head, afraid that it would be an enemy.

“C-Captain Kyoraku!” You were surprised to see him here, not fighting at the front lines.

“Ah, hello my dear. It seems that you are really putting yourself to work.” He said as he watched you heal the wounds of the person.

“Yes! I’m doing the best I can to keep everyone alive.” Even though all your friends and comrades were all fighting, leading themselves to death or getting hurt by the quincies, you still had a smile on your face.

Because no matter what happened to them, you would be able to heal them and bring them back to their feet. That is how much of a talent you have with kaido, you were trained by Unohana after all, it is no surprise how well of a healer you are.

“I thank you Y/N, unfortunately I’m going have to stop you. There’s someone I want you to meet.” For some reason, you felt that it wasn’t going to be good.

You swallowed the lump in your throat while stopping your kido. “If it is who I think it is, then I am not coming with you.” You picked up the now healed person, carrying their body somewhere where they’d be safe until they woke up.

“I’m afraid that you have no choice Y/N, I made a deal with him.”

You could feel your heart drop to your toes, a deal? what kind of deal?

“What kind of deal did you make with that man..” You balled your fists up, nails digging into the skin of your palm. Afraid of what he might say next.

“That if I bring you to him, he’ll do his part on helping the soul society, and bring down Yhwach.”

The head captain was just going to throw you at him? While knowing your traumatic experience with him?

You once loved that man, but now with the help of Byakuya Kuchiki, head of the Kuchiki clan. You were slowly moving on. And even Byakuya was beginning to move on from his past lover..

You’d restart your whole process if you saw Sosuke again, you’d hurt Byakuya too..

“I refuse.”

“You leave me with no choice!” Suddenly Shunsui disappeared in front of you, but then he appeared behind you. He picked you up, throwing you over his shoulder.

“Let! kick go! punch of! kick me!” You kicked and punched him while he carried you over his shoulder, eventually you stopped when accepting your faith, you were now mentally preparing yourself to see him again.

Sooner or later, Shunsui carefully and gently placed you on the ground.

You could feel him.

He wasn’t touching you.

But you could feel his eyes staring you down..

You didn’t dare to look up at him, you looked down at your feet, fiddling with your fingers. You can’t look at him again, you’d be under his spell once again if you did.

“You hold your head quite low, my dear. Why not raise it so I can gaze upon that beautiful face I so dearly miss?” His tone was smooth and calm, his voice was as charming as ever.

Your body moved on its own, you tried so hard to stop yourself but you just couldn’t resist.

Slowly, you raised your head up, meeting his gaze. Your hands were now to your chest, your hands were balled up together.

“Sosuke..” You muttered out, you knew everything was over for you when you made eye contact with him. You were once again wrapped around his finger.

“Now that I’ve seen you.. I can be at ease now. Do not fret my dear, I’ll save your precious seireitei.”

You and Sosuke had just gotten your new home in the world of the living, you will be staying with him here so keep him tamed. It was really all thanks to Kisuke Urahara.

He developed a device that could restrain half of his power, but for it to fully work, Sosuke needed to live in the world of the living. So, central 46 agreed that he could finish his sentence there but someone needed to keep watch on him, Shunsui Kyoraku spoke out and suggested that it should be you.

So here you are, in a nice cozy home. With Sosuke Aizen.

It’s been so long since the last time the two of you were alone together, and knowing Sosuke.. he was going to take advantage of the opportunity. The two of you were in the bedroom, unpacking.

“Isn’t this place lovely Sosuk-” He had come up behind you, interrupting your sentence. You could feel something hard rubbing against your behind.

“It’s been a while since I’ve last slept with you, you don’t know how much I’ve missed you.” You could feel him leaving kisses around your neck, you could feel his hand slipping under your shirt, reaching to your breast.

“You’re too much sometimes Sosuke..” You were just about to push him off until he pushed you onto the bed.

Oh wow he was really going for it hard

You saw as he undressed himself, throwing his clothes on the ground. When he saw you still fully dressed, he took matters into his own hands and began to rip off your clothes. This man was starving for you.

It all happened so fast, you didn’t stop him from undressing you because you were too busy at starring at his hard cock, you could see it twitch when he removed your panties.

He climbed onto the bed, he was hovering over your body. You looked beautiful under him, he loved and missed seeing your beautiful face all flushed up under him.

Right now, he wanted nothing more than painting your walls white with his cum, he doesn’t know what got to him but he had the sudden urge to fill your pussy to the max with his cum, to make sure that you will carry his child. He wanted to see you pregnant with his child.

“I want to see that pretty little cunt filled with my cum, I’d love for you to carry my child.” Without any warnings, sosuke slid his hard shaft right into your glistening cunt.

Your walls sucked him in, his eyes were focused on yours the whole time when he began to push his cock in and out of your cunt.

But he couldn’t help by looking at your bouncing breasts, they went up and down with each thrust he did. He dug his nails deep into the skin of your hips, it was almost too much for him.

Oh how he missed you..

He was pounding your walls soo good, you could see him biting his lip to resist himself from moaning.

But he couldn’t hold himself back, you could hear him grunting as he pounded himself faster into you.

He was hitting your good spot with each thrust, he lowered his face to meet with yours, forehands touching. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pushing him so he could be further into your cunt.

He smashed his lips against yours, it was a sloppy kiss but it felt incredible still. You missed him and he missed you. You parted your lips to let out your moans, so he could hear of how much of a good job he was doing.

His tongue slithered into your mouth, tasting you. The both of you moaned into each other’s mouths.

Your back arched at how good his cock was feeling you up, your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

It wouldn’t take long for him to finish inside of you, he then imagined your pussy being so filled with his cum that it spilt out of your pussy.

And that little scenario set him off, he came inside of you, you could feel his warm sees filling you up just nicely.

He stayed like that for a few seconds, but he didn’t remove his cock from you..Instead he continued thrusting into you, your walls were filled with his cum yet he continued to fuck your pussy.

The cum swirled around your walls with each thrust he made, he was going to make sure that you ended up pregnant. So he continued to fuck your cum filled pussy.

He was going to fuck your pussy until he simply couldn’t cum anymore for the night, you were going to milk him dry.

It was certainly going to become a long night..

You were putting breakfast on Sosuke’s plate and onto yours, you made sure you added extra on yours.

You were now eating for two, you needed to give your child as much nutrients as possible so they could become a healthy and strong baby.

Just then you could hear Sosuke sneaking up behind you, hugging your figure gently. His hands rested on your now round belly.

He didn’t think you could look even more beautiful, but when he noticed your stomach growing from carrying his child, he appreciated your beauty even more. Your beauty really was like a gift from the gods.

“How is he holding up?” He said as he rested his chin on top of your head.

“He seems to be doing just fine, I realized that he kicks more whenever he hears your voice.” Sosuke hummed as he then felt a kick from your stomach.

“You know you really shouldn’t be overdoing things, you need to rest more. Leave everything to me will you?” He said as he removed himself from you, dragging you away from the food so you could sit down and he could serve you breakfast.

“I know I know.. But I can’t help it!”

He chucked and moved your hair from your forehead, leaving a little kiss on it.

Maybe this is what he longed for, to have a family. The idea of being a father never interested him but when he had that sudden urge that one night, he couldn’t help but smile at the thought of having a family with you.

“Please, Let this husband of yours take care of you and the baby.”

Hm.

Yeah this is definitely where he wants to be at, he wanted nothing more than this now.

He can’t wait for the day he sees his child in your arms.

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loverboysturn · 2 days ago

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˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ popular!matt and smart!reader meet for the first time !!

finally an introduction blurb to these two!!!!! eeek so excited about them :)

note: these two are from the same universe as popular!chris and cinderella!reader which you can find everything for here.

asks & requests are always open for this au.

matt has been failing classes for months.

it’s not something he was particularly proud of, and at first he wasn’t entirely bothered by it. the after-game parties, the endless practice sessions, and keeping up with whichever cheerleader was pining over him were enough to keep his focus elsewhere. but now, the failures were piling up and the pressure was all starting to feel a little too much. coach had called him into his office, bright and early, making it clear that if his grades didn’t see an improvement soon, his place on the team was at risk.

the truth was, unlike chris, football had never really been matt’s dream.. it was more his father’s. he played because his dad pushed him into it, and he didn’t want to let him down. he knew that if he got kicked off the team, it wouldn’t just be the end of his time on the field; it would be something his dad would never let him hear the end of. the weight of that expectation felt suffocating at times, but matt couldn’t afford to disappoint him. not now, not ever.

so, here he was, standing in front of the only thing that could save him, the tutor center on campus. if swallowing his pride and begging for help was the only way to keep his spot on the team, then so be it. he’d do whatever it took to keep his dad from finding out just how close he really was to losing it all.

matt pushed open the door, stepping into the tutor center, a place he had never thought to visit before. the air feeling heavy with the scent of black coffee, the walls lined with posters full of motivational quotes on them. he felt like the outsider, for the first time.

and then, he notices you.

you were sitting in the corner of the room, piles of textbooks and notebooks stacked around you. your fingers flying over the keypad of the laptop infront of you, brow furrowed in concentration, completely absorbed in whatever you were working on, as if nothing else around you existed.

matt hesitated, feeling suddenly unsure of himself. he wasn’t used to being in a place like this, he wasn’t used to feeling like he didn’t belong, but with a deep breath, he stepped forward, heading straight towards your desk.

“hey,” he says, voice breaking the silence. “i’m matt.”

you glance up at him, eyes narrowing slightly, before going back to typing, not giving him much more than a brief glance.

“i know exactly who you are,” you replied, your voice was flat, not looking up from your laptop, “everyone talks about you and your friends.”

he chuckled, though it was definetely more out of discomfort than anything, “all good things i hope.”

you didn’t answer, the room filling back with an awkward silence.

matt glanced around at the empty room surrounding you both, placing his hands awkwardly in his pockets, then his gaze goes straight back to you, before he cuts straight to the point. “look, i’m not gonna lie to you. i need help. badly. i’m failing most of my classes, and coach says if i don’t sort my shit out then i’m off the team. and if that happens, my dad… he won’t let me live it down. i need you to tutor me.”

his popular facade was starting to crumble, the embarrassment creeping in as he said the words aloud. he wasn’t used to this, asking for help and it made him feel vulnerable.

you study him for a moment, like you were really taking in every word. “you want me to tutor you?”

matt nodded eagerly, wanting so bad to make this work. “please. i’m not asking for a miracle. i just really need to pass, that’s all. i won’t make shit complicated, you won’t even have to deal with me for very long.”

you dropped the pen you had been chewing the lid of, crossing your arms and looking straight at him. “and why should i help you?”

he could feel the weight of your gaze, the way you were looking into him so intensely was making him feel almost… nervous, another feeling he wasn’t used to. “because you’re the smartest girl on campus, right?” he says, a false confident tone in his voice. “everyone knows it and i know you don’t want to help me out because i’m on the football team, but i really, really, really need this. please.”

matt felt his heart starting to race, he didn’t know what he would do if you said no, but he wasn’t backing down. “i’m not like them,” he says, referring to his teammates. “i’ll do all the work you ask, i won’t waste a second of your time.”

you studied him for a long moment. he could see you were trying to decide if you believed him or not, but you know you needed to benefit from this too.

“fine,” you sigh loudly, “i’ll help you, but only if you get your teammates to lay off my best friend when you’re all at the diner. i’m not going to help you if they keep making her shifts miserable.”

matt blinked, taken aback. “what? i can’t contr—“

you cut him off, instantly, “then no tutoring.”

he hesitated for a second, he hadn’t expected this, but he knew he had no other choice. “alright. i’ll talk to them. but you promise you’ll really help me pass?”

you nod, “if you follow through with your side of the deal and you turn up to every session, then yes, i will help you.”

matt met your gaze, his expression a mix of determination and uncertainty. “deal.”

you push your laptop aside, replacing the empty gap with a textbook from one of the many piles next to you. “we’ll start tomorrow morning before classes start, 7 o clock, don’t be late.”

he stands there for a moment, internally grateful you hadn’t completely shut him down like he had truly anticipated happening, “i’ll be here at 7 o clock on the dot, i won’t be late, not even by a second. i really appreciate this, you’re savin’ my ass big time.” he grins, before turning to leave.

“and matt,” you call out after him, just before he reaches the door. “please don’t make me regret this.”

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theprioryorange · 1 day ago

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team bonding - a jackieshauna x fem!reader series (part one)

pairing(s): jackieshauna x fem!reader

summary: in which jackie and shauna have been at each other’s throats for weeks now, bickering over the most insignificant things. one night after they have a ‘private talk’, they approach you with a confession & an idea which can help them bond and mend their friendship. (or! jackieshauna have a threesome with the reader to solve their issues because they both have been crushing on you for a while...)

tags ⎯⎯ ✦ best friends to lovers, threesome, rivals to lovers, smut, fluff, hints of angst, power bottom!jackie taylor, dom!jackie taylor, power bottom!shauna shipman, dom!shauna shipman, service top!reader, sub!reader, teasing, slight bullying, powerplay, face sitting, cunnilingus, fingering, degradation, praise, petnames, light bondage, slight voyeurism, edging 𝝑𓏲

warnings!: nsfw, graphic smut, explicit language, 18+ (minors pls don't interact!)

word count: 11.9k+

a/n: this is my first ever time posting any of my yellowjackets fics of mine on here so i hope you all enjoy, i’m also going to be posting this to ao3, my username is jurinsanna if you guys ever read stuff on there :) w/ this fic although it's fem!reader i have tried to make it as inclusive as possible, there's no like super descriptive parts about the reader (their body type, skin colour etc.) so i hope nobody feels excluded

oh also the reader has glasses lol

It had been four weeks in the wilderness and Shauna was seriously pissing you off.

“I can’t believe we’re stranded in the middle of nowhere and you’re still concerned about being better than me”, you groaned as you fed the fire more wood.

She looked at you and failed to see how you shifted under her gaze. “We’re gonna be rescued soon, asshat. I want to just keep up with my studies.” You tried not to laugh at how utterly ridiculous that entire sentence was; only a girl like her would be worried about her grades in a literal life-or-death situation.

Shauna’s most-likely snappy rebuttal was cut off as you both heard an impatient voice cough behind you. Jackie Taylor stood with all the confidence you expected of a popular high school soccer captain. She looked pissed off too. You fought the urge to roll your eyes but also bit back a little smile, it was always so funny when she was annoyed. She had been very annoyed recently, it seemed her and Shauna were arguing 24/7 about nothing and everything. Like fire and ice. They hadn’t seemingly meshed well in the past few days, it looked to be more than the fact the tensions were high and stress amongst the team was seemingly contagious.

“What are you two doing?” Jackie asked, eyes flittering between you like she was looking for something that wasn’t there.

“Sitting by the fire, what else would we be doing?” Shauna replied for the both of you, the fire hitting her eyes, giving the brown irises specks of gold that make you try to reign in the pull of desire you felt in your chest. Your classmate’s big brown eyes had been a weakness of yours ever since you had first met.

“I don’t know”, the confidence that seemed to be held in your captain dissipated in seconds. Jackie’s shoulders deflated and she uncrossed her arms like a child scolded. It seemed like only Shauna could do that, and maybe you, but there hadn’t really been a chance for you to confirm that yet.

Captain Taylor was petty and bitter for a reason you couldn’t work out, you and Shauna could tell she wanted to say something else but couldn’t think of anything (much to her own embarrassment). You filled in the silence that was beginning to teeter on awkward: “Umm, well, do you want to sit with us?”, coughing awkwardly, you tried to avoid Shauna’s irritated glare.

“Okay”, the standing girl said with a voice that suggested she was pleased as punch, sitting directly next to you on the other side.

Sitting directly in between Shauna and Jackie was certainly interesting, the contrast between them always made you giggle, and shiver. Shauna sat with her legs apart, manspreading, her jeans splattered with mud and the blood of an animal you could not remember, her nails were short and blunt. They were painted as black as the abyss. Jackie’s manicured nails looked odd in comparison, and in general too, since you had been in the wilderness for around a month now. Her legs were crossed, and the shorts showed off the scrapes and bruises that littered her calves (her very perfect calves). Gulping, you looked ahead and let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“What?” Shauna asked you directly, fixing you with a suspicious glare, sometimes you wondered if she knew about the way you felt for her and her best friend. You tried to brush the thought aside, she was probably just being broody as usual.

“What?” You threw back, panic rising in your throat, “why are you looking at me like that?”

She doesn’t answer and lets up her gaze, instead staring into the fire once again, you try to push down the taste of disappointment. You had really wanted an answer to that question, every time the brunette looked you in the eyes it produced a feeling inside your chest that was akin to melting. The feeling of disappointment however was short-lived as soon you felt a weight on your other shoulder, the side that Jackie was sitting next to you; her head resting on your shoulder comfortably. Oh, Jesus Christ, you flushed bright red, sending a silent prayer to whatever God was listening that neither of them would notice how flustered you were from such a simple, friendly gesture.

It turned out either God didn’t exist, or if He did, that He was not listening, as when you gained enough courage to turn back to Shauna, her eyes met your own. You looked away quickly but didn’t miss the flash of something jealous that passed across her face. It at first made sense to you, really, she and Jackie were such close friends, or used to be, she was probably just jealous that you two were closer now. You and Jackie were childhood best friends after all.

Shauna currently hated the other girl though, so that jealousy was curiously placed. Or… you were just misinterpreting it.

“Dude, I’m so serious if we don’t get out of here soon, I’m gonna go insane”, Jackie’s voice penetrated the silence. She sounded stressed, a plausible reason why she was practically laying on you.

“We’re going to be fine, ok?”, you didn’t fully believe the words yourself but said them anyways as you gazed at her with concern swimming in your eyes, wanting to comfort your captain more than anything else. Shauna made a noise of amusement beside you, causing you to turn to her with a glare, it always seemed like they were unknowingly battling for your attention. Or at least you constantly struggled to decide who to give it to.

“What’s so funny?”, Jackie asked her best friend, voice laced with disgruntlement.

“I’m just thinking about how when we get back, I’m gonna kick Y/N’s ass on the midterm”, Shauna’s voice was light, and you could tell she was a) not intending to hurt your feelings and b) genuinely excited to compete against you again academically. It made you nostalgic somewhat, remembering all those times you compared test scores when you were little.

“You’re so not”, your reply came quickly and made the other laugh.

“I remember when we quizzed each other on enzymes, you barely got four out of ten”, Shauna was quick to remind you, making you flush. It wasn’t what she had said that had made you redden (seriously, you didn’t care all that much for biology right in that moment… at least not the stuff they taught on the Wiskayok curriculum), it was her tone. All playful and almost sultry.

Beside you two, Jackie groaned; “God, you two are such nerds.” She had never been interested in school as much as Shauna and you were – which was funny considering she did actually maintain straight As.

You and the other girl both turned towards your captain with matching twin glares, “We’re really not”, you protested.

She reached a hand up and playfully wiggled your glasses, “These tell me otherwise”, you heard Shauna snort behind you and tried not to flush. “I don’t know why you’re laughing, Shipman, you’re even worse”, Jackie laughed, carefully taking them off of you, you were about to protest, your vision already going a little blurry, but she soon was leaning over you. The dark blonde was pressed flush against you as she placed your glasses on Shauna, pushing them up the bridge of the brunette’s nose as she protested.

You tried not to squeal like a loser as you looked at Shauna, Jesus, the glasses were really cute on her.

“Looking good, Shipman”, Jackie teased. The taller girl huffed and took them off, handing them back to you with an apologetic glance. “Aww come on”, the popular girl protested. Jackie turned to you, a small smirk making its way gradually across her lips. “Don’t you think she looks good with your glasses, Y/N?”.

The question made you nearly faint, why was she asking that? It was clear Jackie knew what she was doing, from the way she was glancing at the two of you.

“Umm”, you hesitated, putting your glasses back on, of course you thought Shauna looked gorgeous no matter what, but it was embarrassing having to compliment someone so close to you. Especially when you had a massive crush on them and the person currently teasing you both. You turned to look at Shauna, instantly wishing you hadn’t, her big brown eyes held so much expectancy, she looked like a kicked puppy.

“Well? Did I look okay with them on?”, she asked you.

The way she was looking at you made you want to cry. “Yeah, they look nice on you”, your reply was quiet and nervous.

A small smile appeared on her face; you couldn’t see her teeth, but you could tell it was genuine. You couldn’t, however, tell that she was blushing. Jackie could though, ever so perceptive when it came to her best friend (and you, it seemed). “Aww, Shipman’s blushing”, Jackie teased, she was still half leaning on you and didn’t appear to want to move anytime soon.

“I’m not blushing”, Shauna’s response was blunt but there was a hint of shaky embarrassment in her tone.

“Sure”, Jackie drawled, not seeming to believe her. You didn’t know what to believe, mind too occupied with trying to figure out why Shauna cared so much about your opinion.

Soon they were both looking at you again, their gazes making you feel warm all the way down to your toes. Shauna took a moment to look at Jackie, before standing up, “I need to go help Taissa chop some wood, when it gets darker it’ll be too cold to do it”, her words made the feeling of desperation buzz in your chest. You didn’t want her to go, you wanted to stay there forever in between them on the cut-down tree trunk, saying nothing and doing nothing but listening to each other breathe.

“Duty calls”, you replied a little curtly, fighting the urge to lean into Jackie and fall asleep, she was so warm, and you were so cold.

Jackie stayed silent and Shauna made a move to leave, but not before pausing a moment to shoot a request to her best friend: “Could you meet me by the back of the cabin in like an hour? I need to talk to you about something.” The words made you nervous, even though they weren’t directed towards you, but Jackie didn’t seem to mind, instead giving her a thumbs up of approval before letting her arm drop again and wrap around your waist. After a moment she grabbed your arm and put it over her shoulder, your arm resting against her chest.

You and Jackie sat there for a while, your head leaned against hers, you could feel her heartbeat against the back of your arm, and it made you so tired you began to drift off. When you woke there was no one there but you, somehow the other had left without waking you up and had laid you down carefully on the log, leaving quickly, but not before laying a blanket over you.

The night air was cool, the fire had burnt out hours ago, and the hairs on your arms stood up as you wrapped the blanket tighter around you, standing to go inside. You could hear the other girls chatter inside and felt rather like you were about to go inside your home, it was odd how comfortable you all had gotten in that cabin. You wondered if in other circumstances the same sort of thing would have happened, the closeness. The door was opened slowly as you shivered on the porch, the girls went quiet at the site of you.

“Hey”, Lottie spoke first, “you okay?”.

She looked concerned and you swallowed the feeling of affection that rose in your throat. These people were teammates, friends, fellow survivors, but they weren’t your family, you couldn’t think of them as such. The softness Van and Nat were looking at you with told a different story. “Uh, yeah, just fell asleep out there”, you said quietly.

Tai shot you a strained smile, “You want some food?”, she offered you an unremarkable selection of food: deer and berries. Your stomach made a sound as if it could see the food as well as your eyes could, Tai laughed a little, her smile real this time as she watched you grab a handful of berries.

Eating them quickly, you glanced around the room, “Where’s Jackie and Shauna?”, you asked.

Their places were empty and the girls around you shrugged, all except Misty, she regarded you with wandering eyes as she spoke; “They’re outside the back of the cabin, said they needed to talk privately.” Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion; they had been there all this time? Surely you had been asleep for at least two hours, what “private conversation” took more than an hour?

“I’m gonna go look for them”, you said, leaving no room for argument, walking past the girls and through the cabin till you were outside, this time leaving through the back entrance.

It was so dark you had to squint to see, even with your glasses on. Everything seemed still, all that could be seen was the lining of the forest. Trees for miles. You began to grow worried, searching with a little more fervour for the two girls as you realized it was way too cold and way too dark for them to be out here alone. Still not seeing much, you went round to the side of the cabin, near an area of forest, your ears were suddenly greeted with an assortment of sounds: rustling, heavy breathing, moans?

“Hello?”, you called out, thoroughly flustered.

The sounds stopped, before being replaced with muttered curses and panicked shuffling. “Shit, uh- hey”, Jackie appeared from behind a tree and approached you slowly, as if you were a feral cat and would run off with any sudden movement. She looked positively debauched, her hair was messed up and her t-shirt was scrunched halfway up her stomach. You could see a litter of badly hidden marks across her neck and chest. Questions were about to tumble out of your mouth, but you both were interrupted by Shauna coming out of the same private spot. She approached you two slowly, looking as roughed up as the other girl, her mouth was swollen and she was holding her flannel as if she had taken it off, she put it back on quickly, to you and Jackie’s shared secret delight.

“What are you guys doing out here?”, the question sounded shaky leaving your mouth and you thought you already knew the answer, but that answer seemed almost impossible, maybe even too good to be true - not that you’d admit to yourself that you’d think of it as that. It didn’t make sense, Jackie Taylor was the straightest girl you had ever met, and the most sexual interest you had ever seen Shauna show was towards her scientific calculator during the last physics test you had taken.

Not to mention the fact for the past week they had been arguing 24/7 and had been at each other’s throats since even before the crash. By the marks on Jackie’s neck though, you could guess this time they had taken the phrase quite literally.

“Oh, just uh, talking through some stuff. Working out issues, you know?”, Shauna sounded nervous, and it made you even more suspicious. But you probably had just read the situation wrong, right? You were cold and still slightly tired, the dark could have easily pulled tricks on you, especially with your poor eyesight.

“Right, um, yeah”, you replied, “you guys should probably come inside.” They nodded quickly and followed you round the side to the front of the cabin.

“But um, could we talk to you upstairs privately? Once we get inside?”, Jackie spoke from behind you as you approached the porch. You were flooded with apprehension and a twinge of excitement and pulled the blanket tighter around your shoulders.

“Okay”.

The journey from the porch to the attic upstairs was eerily quiet, Shauna and Jackie seemed to be communicating in shared secret glances which made you feel twitchy and hot. What were they going to speak to you about? Did they not want to be friends anymore? The thought made your stomach turn. In just a few moments all three of you were standing in the cabin’s attic, the inside was a little warmer, so you dropped the blanket onto the floor where Shauna’s makeshift bed was. It looked oddly cozy.

Jackie spoke first, “So um, we wanted to talk to you about something, something we’ve uh… noticed.” Shauna nodded at her words, and they stepped a little closer to you, and each other.

You nodded, trying to keep calm, what the fuck was she talking about? “You know it’s, like, normal to have crushes on girls, right?”, she asked. The question was more rhetorical than literal, and it made your brain short circuit for a brief moment.

Your eyes widened. “What?”, the words were out before you could stop them. Shauna exchanged a glance with her best friend before elaborating.

“We’ve noticed you’ve been like, looking at us. I don’t know, I only noticed a few weeks ago when Jackie pointed it out to me, she said that you always stared at me. And then like, thinking about it, I realised you also always stare at her. You never really, like, show interest in boys or anything like that, so that’s the conclusion we’ve come to… and to be honest it’s the only one we can think of that makes sense.”

Jackie nodded with each word she spoke, seemingly comfortable with the idea that you had a crush on both her and Shauna or at least were somewhat attracted to them.

“We’re not mad or anything”, the light-haired girl rushed to clarify, anxious that you’d bolt off downstairs.

“Oh” was the only word that could come out of your mouth.

Shauna laughed a little, “I think we’ve broken her”.

Jackie laughed at that, before stepping a little closer to you with a teasing grin, “…We’re right though, about you liking us, aren’t we?”.

“W-what, I-I”, you stuttered before giving up on trying to talk to deny it, you moved for the door but were stopped by two hands on your chest as your captain stood between you and the door, blocking your attempts to flee.

“Oh, you’re not going anywhere, baby” Jackie pushed you roughly, laughing as you collided with Shauna, your back pushed against the brunette’s front as she held you in place.

“What?”, you were breathless, head turning to meet Shauna’s gaze - she looked almost ravenous. Turning back to Jackie, you realised she had a similar expression, one not too dissimilar from the one a wolf wore looking at its prey.

“You heard what she said” Shauna spoke from behind you, arms stilling your attempts to break free of her grasp. You didn’t really want to get away from her though, in fact, you wanted to sink into her arms as you felt Jackie’s soft wet mouth explore every yet undiscovered part of you. But appearances had to be kept up, it was a lot to take in all at once. Unfortunately (or fortunately) for you, they both saw right through you.

The girl in front of you laughed, “You know what me and Shipman mean, be a good girl and listen carefully now.” Jackie reached a hand out to trail drown your front, fingertips raising goosebumps down the soft flesh of your arms.

“Jackie and I, well, we’ve had some disagreements recently”, Shauna started to explain, but the cogs in her brain seemed to be whirring all too fast and she gazed at her captain slash best friend a little pleadingly, waiting for her to continue. Jackie seemed to notice her hesitancy and grinned, she moved closer towards you, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. She spoke then with a confidence Shauna currently did not have, or appeared to have anyway.

“I remember Coach saying one time that the best way two players could bond and fix whatever little problems they’d been having was by… actually, we want you to try and guess.” It was getting clearer by the moment that they were not going to make this easy for you.

You cleared your throat and tried to think back to what he had said, your mind came up blank, only thinking of the heat that Shauna’s front was producing by being pressed flush up against your back. You could feel how hard her nipples were through her bra. “I-I, uh, I don’t know”, your reply made them both laugh, Jackie smiled a little softer then, her eyes wandering to the girl behind you. You turned to follow her gaze, eyes meeting Shauna, the brunette leaned in to whisper in your ear, you could feel the warmth of her mouth near your neck and fought the urge to whimper. All composure was lost at the next word she spoke.

“Sharing”.

They let out twin sighs of desire as you made what seemed to be the most embarrassing and desperate noise of your life. “I think she likes that idea”, Jackie teased, running her fingers up to the hem of your t-shirt, they hovered there for a second before she grabbed hold of it, slightly tugging it up, exposing the skin of your lower stomach.

“Of course she does, she likes us”, Shauna grinned, her confidence seemingly growing by the second.

“Can I take this off?”, you were asked by Jackie, who was pressing her face into your neck. “It’s okay if you want to keep it on”. To them your comfort was more important than the amount of fun they got from watching you squirm, a small reminder that they had been your closest friends before anything else. They truly did care – a fact that made you comfortable enough to agree to their request.

You nodded. Neither of them seemed satisfied with your response though, so Shauna urged you further.

“Use your words, love”.

“Yes”.

“Good” Shauna hummed, moving back a little as Jackie pulled your t-shirt up and over your head. You could hear as their breaths hitched at the sight of you, you stood there a little nervous in only a black bra. “Wow” the girl stood before you spoke, always the first to give her opinion, “you’re beautiful”, she murmured.

“Jackie’s right, you’re gorgeous”, Shauna said, sounding almost out of breath - the brunette smiled a little and her eyes trailed down to the small of your back. As they took in your body you fought the urge to cross your arms across your chest, not because they were making you uncomfortable, but because you weren’t the most confident of people. Some people at Wiskayok had given you shit for your looks before, before joining the soccer team you had been pretty chubby, and none of the varying physical changes you had went through during your life had made a difference to the way you felt about yourself.

Jackie noticed your sheer nervousness, there was a glint of remorse and recognition in her dark eyes. “You don’t have to hide from us, ok? We love what we see, don’t we Shauna?”. Despite her shitty judgemental parents, and all the popular girl stereotypes Jackie fit, being cruel wasn’t one of them. Throughout your time being classmates and close friends with her she had always been in your corner. Right then was no different.

The same case applied to Shauna. The young woman in question nodded, moving forward so she could be pressed against you again. “Jackie and I are so excited to share you, just for us hmm?”, the brunette was as close as she was before as her lips ghosted the side of your neck.

This time, Jackie moved closer as well, running a hand down your trembling body as she leaned in close to your face.

“Can I kiss you?”, she asked, her voice was sweet, but her facial expression told a different story; it looked like she wanted to eat you alive. You’d be lying if you said you wouldn’t let her. You would let Jackie Taylor and her very stubborn best friend do anything they wanted to you.

“Yeah”, it seemed right then you couldn’t give more than one-word answers, your voice trembled as she leaned in and kissed you sweetly, she tasted faintly like cherries. It was probably the lip gloss she still had some of, despite the fact you three had been in the wilderness for nearly a month.

Both of you heard the strange, desperate sound Shauna had made at the sight of you two kissing. Jackie laughed and turned to her best friend, “Do you like watching us? Being watched? I bet you wish she saw us outside earlier, don’t you?”, she asked Shauna as you turned to the brunette who was flushing profusely.

Your stomach was still buzzing from the kiss with your captain as you looked at the midfielder. “Yeah, I do”, Shauna replied, looking mildly embarrassed at being caught out, but mainly just wanton.

“Why don’t you give Shauna a kiss now, baby? She’s ever so good at it”, the shorter girl let go of you and gestured to Shauna, who stood behind you with a hand on your waist. You didn’t need to be told twice as you turned your head and took Shauna’s mouth with your own, the kiss was every bit as heated as your one with Jackie’s was sweet.

“Shit”, you, and Shauna could hear the light-haired girl beside you let out a noise of approval as she watched you two kiss. “Slip her some tongue, Shipman”, she ordered, the words made you almost choke, as well as the fact immediately after you could feel the other girl’s tongue swiping against your bottom lip for entrance. Shauna was always good at following orders and Jackie was always good at giving them - the girl was the captain of your team for a reason. The dark-haired girl tasted like the berries she had eaten that morning, there were also hints of… cherry?

Oh. So that’s why they were in the spirit of sharing. You hadn’t been mistaken thinking what you thought when you saw them outside earlier. The thought of the two of them together out there, kissing heatedly against a tree, made your knees weak - even more so when Shauna let out a whine into your mouth.

“You two are really enjoying yourselves huh?” Jackie observed, lust-blown pupils fixated on the point where Shauna’s mouth - and, god, her tongue met yours. You half expected her to pull up a chair and put her feet up to enjoy the show, but Jackie Taylor was never one to just observe, she loved to be a little more hands-on. So, really, you shouldn’t have been surprised when she approached behind you and moved your hair out of the way, exposing the soft skin of your neck. You moaned into Shauna’s mouth as Jackie began to place hot, open-mouthed kisses on your neck, she grazed her teeth against your throat and could feel your pulse against her tongue. You trusted her not to bite too hard if that’s what she wanted.

“Fuck”, you groaned as you could feel Jackie bite your neck lightly. Clearly the weeks in the wilderness had awakened some strange primal urge in the both of them, but you weren’t complaining. She didn’t bite you hard enough to draw blood, and kissed the mark she’d made on your neck to sooth it. Her lips were now at your collarbone.

“So cute”, Shauna pulled away from your mouth to praise you.

“I need you both so bad”, your pleas were cut off by the brunette.

“Let’s take the rest of these clothes off, me and Jackie really don’t want anything in the way.” The dark-blonde-haired girl pulled away from your neck and tugged down your shorts, stepping out of them you noticed how fiercely they stared at your body. The idea made you simultaneously ecstatic and nervous, more so the former than the latter.

They moved you onto the makeshift bed Shauna had set up on the attic floor, it wasn’t the sort of thing out of a romance novel but the three of you really didn’t care, you all were too busy thinking about getting your mouths on each other.

“Why don’t we get out of these clothes too, Shauna?” Jackie suggested, stood above in front of you, she didn’t wait for the other girl’s response as she lifted the crop top over her head, throwing it carelessly to the floor near where your discarded clothes were. Next came her shorts, kicking them off like you had, they joined the small pile of clothes that had accumulated. Of course Jackie Taylor was wearing pink matching underwear, even when stranded in the wilderness fighting for survival, her bra had little love hearts printed on it, her panties however only had one small red heart right in the middle.

Shauna’s eyes were locked on her chest, and you fought the urge to laugh. Their desire for each other had been so obvious, even before you had nearly caught them earlier, or before they had made theirs for you clear, and you had been so oblivious to it all. The taller girl stared for a few moments longer before following suit, taking off her jeans, once she got to her flannel, both you and Jackie made noises of protest.

“Wait, wait, wait - keep that on, but take everything underneath off.”, you were relieved that Jackie was so outspoken in the bedroom, as you were thinking the exact same thing as she was. That damn red flannel would soon be the death of both of you.

“Ok”, Shauna murmured as she took off her t-shirt that was underneath and then put her flannel back on over her bra, she kept it open with the buttons undone so both you and Jackie could see her perfectly sculpted abs. Her bra was black like yours. You resisted the urge to look down, knowing if you caught a glimpse of her toned, long legs you would most likely pass out before you could get to feel them wrapped around your head.

Jackie grabbed her waist gently and pulled her close, leaning in for a kiss that was all tongue. She only pulled away for a moment to pause and muse over your lustful expression, “I think she likes watching us”.

Shauna laughed at her words before replying: “Let’s give our girl a show then”, she moved towards her best friend’s mouth with more fervour this time. You could both tell she was getting more desperate by the minute.

They were right of course, the sight of them kissing drove you fucking insane. You sat from your place on the floor and observed as they made pretty little noises into each other’s mouths, you wondered if today earlier was the first time they had kissed. Probably not. They were best friends after all. It seemed like Shauna noticed your desperation, as soon she moved out of Jackie’s arms and was kneeling in front of you, a hand trailing up your chest.

“Can I take your bra off baby?” She asked, you looked behind her to Jackie, who stood watching attentively.

“Please”, you replied, you wanted, no, needed, to feel Shauna’s mouth on your bare chest.

She unhooked the garment skilfully, leading Jackie to tease her. “Wowza, Shipman, you’re a bra pro.” Shauna rolled her eyes, flushing a dark crimson before finally removing your bra. You smiled at how flustered she got when Jackie teased her. Both of their eyes immediately went straight to your bare chest, “Holy shit”, Jackie breathed out.

Shauna hummed in agreement, a hand itching to reach out and grasp one of your breasts.

“You have like…really nice tits”, the standing girl sounded like she was going to pass out. You could relate to that feeling as Shauna gently moved her fingertips down your collarbone to the top of your right breast.

“Can I…?”, she trailed off. You nodded eagerly and soon Shauna’s warm hands were touching the most sensitive parts of your chest.

“Oh”, you breathed out as she thoroughly felt you up.

“You’re so pretty baby” Shauna’s voice was quiet as she leaned in and kissed you.

“Jesus,” Jackie said from behind the both of you, sounding the most turned-on someone could physically be. “Let me feel her now, Shauna”, her tone was barely controlled as she approached and Shauna protested a little, the noise being muffled by your mouth.

“Come on, Shipman, we’re supposed to be sharing her.” Jackie whined, and Shauna fought the urge to roll her eyes.

“Fine”, she groaned as she pulled begrudgingly away from your mouth. It was flattering to watch them fight over your attention, a part of your brain was still convinced this was some elaborate joke – that all the rest of the team were about to jump out of the shadows and yell that you just got pranked. That hadn’t happened yet though, and didn’t look like it was going to anytime soon. They were serious about wanting you.

The realisation had your chest falling and rising quickly in the cold air but was soon warmed by Jackie’s breath. She sucked one of your nipples into her mouth, you gasped and tried not to moan, her muffled laughter causing vibrations through your body.

“You like Jackie’s mouth on you baby?”, Shauna asked, sounding a little breathless herself. The midfielder opened her shirt so you could see her chest, she laughed when you flushed and looked away instinctively.

Soon Jackie was kissing up your chest, up your neck, and to your mouth: “Do you want us to touch you?”, she asked as Shauna moved to kneel on the other side of you. You nodded, too nervous and starstruck to form a sentence. “Hmmm, what do you think Shipman, should we give her what she wants?”.

The other athlete furrowed her eyebrows in thought, “I think she should work for it, like when we play soccer, you don’t just go for a goal immediately do you? You pass the ball, tire the other team out… that is if we’re still using the excuse that this is just one big team exercise for soccer.” Jackie cracked a grin at that. What Shauna was saying made you shiver, it was scary but exhilarating at how utterly powerless you were under their gazes.

Of course, you technically did have power and could stop at any time you wanted, but you liked feeling like they controlled you. “How can she work for it?”, Jackie asked, a cruel gleam in her eye.

“What do you think, Y/N?” Shauna turned to you then; pupils so blown with lust that her eyes looked almost black.

“I, uh, I don’t know”, your voice was unsteady, and you tried to hold back a moan as Shauna’s hands traced your breasts again.

“Aw, come on, I’m sure your slutty mind can think of something up”, Jackie laughed. Your face warmed and you shifted under Shauna’s hands, “I’m, “ - Shauna moved to pinch one of your nipples, “fuck, I’m not a slut.”

Shauna raised an eyebrow, “You’re letting your two best friends fuck you, that sounds pretty slutty to me”, her words made you squirm.

“It’s a good thing though, we like it”, Jackie added, moving to push your hair back away from your face.

“Yeah, we’ve been waiting to have you for literally forever.” Shauna’s words made you nearly choke on your own spit, how long had they been feeling that way? You imagined them sneaking glances at you in the locker room when you were all getting changed, or on the pitch when you would pour water over yourself to cool down during a drink break.

“Wait, fuck I’ve had an idea.” Jackie suddenly said, looking like a lightbulb had just gone off above her head. The amusing image was about to make you laugh until Shauna began to trace her fingertips lower down your body.

“What is it?”, you struggled to ask as Shauna’s fingers just reached the hem of your underwear, she looked up at you as if she was thoroughly pleased with herself. She was so mean, you loved it.

“You can put your mouth to good work.”

Oh.

“Shit”, Shauna laughed, “another genius idea I’m not gonna lie, I need to step up my game – poor baby looks like she’s about to pass out.” They teased you a few moments longer before Jackie began to grow impatient, needing your mouth on her.

“Is that something you want?” sure she was absolutely soaked through her underwear, but their priority right then was your comfort more than anything else. You were afraid if you opened your mouth you’d start begging, so silently (but very enthusiastically) nodded your head. Staying silent clearly didn’t save you from getting teased, as they cooed and giggled at your reaction respectively.

“Okay, baby, lie down for me”, your captain instructed, the teasing tone from earlier being replaced with soft command. You wanted to ask how you could make her feel good with your mouth if you were laying down but trusted her enough to feel confident that whatever it was, was going to work out, so laid down. Shauna moved a few pillows behind your head, so that your neck wasn’t in an uncomfortable position, the consideration made your heart flutter.

“Shipman, help me take my panties off, will you?”, she asked a suddenly flustered Shauna as she unhooked her own bra and let it drop to the floor.

“U-uh, yeah, shit, sure.”

Next thing you knew, Jackie’s underwear was gone, and you were face to face with her pussy as she straddled your head. An embarrassingly loud noise left your mouth as you took her in. “You like what you see?”, she grinned from her position above you, you couldn’t see her face but could hear in her voice how much she was enjoying teasing you like this. Fighting the urge to immediately put your mouth on her, you bit your tongue and listened as they made fun of you.

“I bet she’s trying really hard to not taste you”, Shauna said, moving next to you so she could look at your face. “Jesus Jackie, she looks like she’s going to cry with how desperate she is”, she cooed.

Jackie laughed and wiggled her hips like she was taunting you. “Okay, okay”, she seemed like she was going to give you a break and lower herself onto your impatient tongue, “I’ll let her prove that she deserves to be fucked”. Your captain slowly lowered herself onto your mouth, with a moan she leaned her head back, pleasantly overwhelmed by the sensation of your tongue moving pressed flat against her clit. You moved downwards to her slit and prodded inside her with your tongue, hoping to find her g spot as soon as possible. It would be a complete lie to say you hadn’t given much thought to what your best friend would taste like, she tasted so good, and you knew you’d never forget her taste or her scent or the way her hands were now tangled in your hair.

“Shit, Shauna, she’s actually pretty damn good at this”, she spoke to you next: “have you had practice eating pussy baby?” You moaned into her and tried to respond but were too preoccupied with trying to get her to cum in your mouth as you needed to taste it desperately, your underwear was already soaked through but the things they were saying made them even more so.

“I don’t think she can talk”, Shauna chuckled, observing the way you kept going back up to Jackie’s clit to give it attention.

“Whatever, fuck, whatever she’s doing it’s- ugh- it’s working”, the girl above you sounded like she was drunk on your tongue, her words slurred and struggled. Shauna couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy, of Jackie, of you? she couldn’t tell - but knew whatever it was, was outweighed by the sheer arousal that overcame her watching as her best friend rode your face.

Jackie began to grind into your face, deciding she couldn’t just sit still any longer, she needed to have control. You gave it up happily, as usual when it came to her, your hands reaching around to grab her ass and help her ride your face.

“Slap her ass”, the brunette ordered, you obeyed without hesitation and soon a small red print showed on the unmarked flesh of Jackie’s ass. Shauna moved around and kneeled so that her and Jackie were facing each other, almost face to face, she kissed her deeply.

“Fuck”, Jackie whimpered into her mouth, already close. The other girl grinned and tucked some of Jackie’s dark blonde hair behind her ear.

“I didn’t expect her to be so good at this”, the brunette mused, it was true, she knew you weren’t completely innocent but hadn’t expected for you to be this good.

“Well, she’s beaten your science test scores before so- “, Jackie’s broken words were interrupted by a moan as you began to suck on her clit, “I’d say she’s pretty much good, fuck, at e-everything now”.

The midfielder feigned offence, “Just because she’s good at eating pussy and science doesn’t mean I’m not”.

“Wanna prove it?” Jackie asked her through breathy moans with the hint of a smirk.

“Happily, but right now it’s about this little slut”, Shauna moved a hand down to stroke some of your hair surprisingly gently. Gentle was not a word to describe how Jackie’s fists were still gripping your hair though as she impaled herself on your tongue. They began to kiss again, and you’d have given anything to see them as well as hear them, the desperation didn’t last long as Jackie’s hips began to stutter.

“Fuck, Shipman, she’s gonna make me cum.”

Shauna laughed, kissing her again, “Go on, babe. Cum all over our best friend’s face.” It turns out Jackie Taylor could take orders as well as give them, as soon she was coming hard in your mouth with a loud cry. She tasted even better than you had imagined, Shauna had to steady her so she didn’t collapse on top of you, both of you calmed her as she came down from her orgasm.

“Holy shit”, the striker breathed out, legs shaking, you tried not to let out a noise of disappointment as she moved off of your face, instead opting to sit on your lap.

That feeling was short-lived though as she carefully bent down to kiss you. Jackie groaned as she tasted herself on your mouth, your other teammate watched for a moment before kneeling beside you so she could kiss you too. Shauna made a similar noise, “Fuck, Jackie, you taste really good.”

“Thanks babe”, Jackie grinned, still a little out of breath. She looked down at you with an expression of satisfaction, “I think you’ve proved yourself, what do you think?”. You didn’t nod or speak, still too dazed from your mouth being buried in Jackie’s pussy.

“I think she’s earned it”, Shauna spoke for you, kissing you sweetly on the forehead.

The other girl hummed in agreement, “How do you want us baby?”. A million images instantly flashed into your head, all more vulgar than the last - the sad truth was you wanted too much. Wanted them too much.

“She’s always been indecisive, Jackie. Let’s just make her take what we give her, hmm? I’ve got a few ideas.” Shauna’s words made your head swim, a few ideas could mean anything.

“Such as?”, her best friend asked, the brunette simply smirked and moved in closer to the other so she could whisper something into her ear. You tried hard to listen to what she was saying but couldn’t hear anything over the pounding of your own heart.

The idea seemed to be a good one though as Jackie almost gasped with excitement as she turned to Shauna, “Oh, fuck, Shipman, you’re a kinky one aren’t you?”

The taller girl blushed to her friend’s delight, “Shut up”. Your eyes darted between them, what had Shauna suggested? The thoughts were interrupted as the midfielder began to take her flannel off, you bit your lip to keep from protesting, knowing seeing her bare chest would be worth the price to pay. To your surprise though she didn’t move to take off her bra, instead taking the shirt in her hands and adjusting the sleeves. Whilst she done that, Jackie got off of you and offered you a hand to help you get up.

“Get up and kneel”, she commanded once you were on your feet again.

You obeyed immediately and found yourself then kneeling on the floor of the attic, shaking with barely contained anticipation. Shauna stood only in her bra, the red item of clothing still in her hands, “Hands behind your back”. The young woman’s tone was blunter and more to the point than Jackie’s, less interested in teasing you and more interested in getting exactly what she wanted then & there.

A hint of confusion washed over you, but you trusted and obeyed her anyways, moving your hands behind your back. The two girls observed you with mischievous smiles, “She’d do anything we’d ask, huh?” Jackie mused, sitting and watching as Shauna stepped forward.

The brunette took the flannel and began to bind your wrists with it, using it as sort of makeshift rope. Oh, she was tying you up. The fact it was with the flannel made it even hotter, Jackie thought so too; “We really like when you wear that, you know? It looks sexy on you.” Shauna blushed, it was a common sight with how easily flustered she got but never failed to make you and Jackie both smile. You unfortunately couldn’t see her face though in that moment, your face turned towards the wall as your best friend tied you up. Once she was satisfied with how tight she had bound your wrists and walked around you, so you were at eye level with her very toned stomach.

Shauna’s abs were a godly sight and you had to keep your mouth closed shut, scared of saying something incredibly pathetic about how much you wanted her inside you. She tilted your head up so you were gazing at her face, “My eyes are up here”.

You turned red as Jackie laughed behind you from her position on the blankets. “C’mon, stop teasing us and just take your clothes off!”, your captain exclaimed, her tone was playful, but it was clear she was growing impatient. You couldn’t help but agree, you had spent all too long fantasising about what the brunette’s tits looked like.

Shauna rolled her eyes, but her hands moved to the back of her bra to unhook it. She let the black garment drop to the floor and your breath hitched, you could barely handle the sight of Jackie’s chest, let alone hers as well as Shauna’s. They were going to be the death of you.

“Wow”, Jackie’s eyes raked over her best friend’s nearly naked body, “I mean wow”. Her words summed up your thoughts about your teammate perfectly.

Shauna shot her a nervous but appreciative smile, before looking down at you. “What do you think?”, it was like an odd mirror of your interaction earlier - except instead of asking how your glasses looked on her, this time she was asking how she looked without anything but panties on.

“You look beautiful”, you struggled to say, her whole body seemed to thrum at your praise.

“Thank you, baby… now”, she began to speak, glancing over quickly at her captain, “I was hoping you’d show me how good you were with your mouth, I mean Jackie got to feel your tongue, so it’d be unfair if I didn’t.” You let out a breath, cursing the fact your hands were tied as you felt the need to steady yourself. Her words made you lightheaded with desire.

“Please let me”, you spoke, trying to not ramble. She grinned and kissed you, guiding you back to where Jackie sat.

Shauna laid down, moving so that you were kneeling in between her legs. Jackie got up and kneeled behind you, beginning to kiss your neck, “Shauna was also thinking that whilst you showed her how good you were with your mouth, I could make you feel good with my fingers. It’d be cruel to make you wait longer, right?”

The idea made you shiver and had appeared before in some of your wet dreams. Jackie’s fingers were long, you had always bet that they could reach all the places deep inside you that needed to be reached.

“What do you say baby?”, the brunette in front of you asked, looking at you both for approval.

“Okay”, you nodded desperately, Jackie smiled against your neck and reached a hand around your stomach, moving downwards towards the hem of your underwear.

Just as she was about to move her hand inside, she stilled and pulled away, “Actually, let’s see you make Shauna feel good a bit first, she needs to take those panties off.” You could see Shauna try to hold in a grin at how mean she was being to you, you took in a deep breath, trying not to cry.

“Can you take my panties off for me?”, your taller teammate asked you, moving her waist upwards so you could easily move the underwear down past her hips. You were going to joke that you couldn’t since your hands were tired (quite literally) but realised she hadn’t forgotten that. They meant they wanted you to take them off with your mouth. Jesus, had half the novels Shauna had been recommending you this entire time been erotica? Where did she get all these ideas from?

It wasn’t to say though that you were complaining, nodding, and wasting no time in getting them off with your teeth. Once they were off both you and Jackie let out a noise at the sight of her, yours more a whine, hers more of a groan.

“Shit, baby, I’m jealous you’re going to get to taste her”, Jackie told you, trailing her tongue lightly against your pulse point. You squirmed at the words as well as the sensation, as they put the idea of Jackie eating out Shauna into your head. You prayed to whatever God that was listening that there was a chance you could see that in the future, no matter what happened to you guys out there after that, you’d die happy.

Shauna leaned her head back against the pillows, “Don’t worry you’ll get your chance”, she told her so matter-of-factly it made your stomach tingle.

Captain Taylor pulled away from your neck, “Good”, her reply was blunt, but you could tell on the inside she was ecstatic. Who wouldn’t be excited at the idea of a chance to eat out Shauna Shipman? You certainly were.

“Bend over then and tongue fuck her, or are you going to stay there all day?”, Jackie moved back and was growing impatient by the second. You were a little nervous but weren’t taking your time on purpose, just more in awe at the sight of a very naked Shauna Shipman, you liked it when your captain snapped at you though.

Shuffling back a little, you bent down so your face was in front of Shauna’s cunt. The brunette let out a half moan, half sigh as you licked a long stripe from her entrance all the way up to the top of her swollen clit. “I’d let you use your fingers on me too, pretty girl, but I really like the sight of you tied up. Bet Jackie does too.”

Jackie hummed in agreement, letting one of her hands trail across your ass. She was itching to get her fingers inside of you, but didn’t want to let you know that. Suddenly, the sound of a loud slap rang across the room as Jackie’s hand connected with the left side of your ass.

“Fuck”, you cried out, voice somewhat muffled by your best friend’s soaked core.

Shauna barked a laugh, “Oh fuck, she likes that, hit her again.” The striker slapped you again, the brunette in front of you closed her eyes and savoured the sound of Jackie’s palm making contact with your soft flesh. There was no denying your teammate had a hunger for violence, from her dangerous plays on the pitch, to her short temper and tendency to get into fights. So, there was little surprise when the discovery was made that Shauna Shipman was a bit of a sadist in the bedroom.

Jackie regarded the sight with equal lust and fascination, she was excited to figure out all the things that really made you melt. Things that would make you squirm, all your weaknesses that would make you do anything she asked you to. That would make you hers.

“Suck on my clit, baby”, Shauna moaned, her hips bucking up so her cunt could meet your mouth. You did as she said, taking her clit in your mouth and sucking firmly, your hands desperate to move around to her pussy, but the efforts in trying to untie the flannel were futile. Plus, you couldn’t risk ripping the fabric of that thing, it was the best thing in Shipman’s entire closet.

Shauna tasted amazing; they both did. You came to the realisation that you could do this for hours, days even, if they’d just let you.

“Do you want my fingers now?”, Jackie asked, watching as Shauna whined and writhed under your mouth’s ministrations. You pulled away for just a second to answer your captain with a plea, but Shauna still groaned in protest and grabbed a fistful of your hair, pulling you back down again. She never was patient.

Jackie took a hold of the hem of your underwear, pulling them down, she was going to ask you to move so she could take them fully off, but glanced at the almost feral expression that Shauna had and decided otherwise. If you were taken away from her at that moment the brunette would’ve most likely committed murder.

Jackie took in the sight of you and sighed, “God, you’re so fucking pretty”. The praise made your heart flutter and heat flood in between your legs, which were trembling from sheer desperation and adrenaline. You wanted badly to thank her, but your tongue was too preoccupied moving inside Shauna. It seemed you had found her sweet spot, as she began to squirm even more, her gasps and moans rising rapidly.

“Jesus, Shipman, you’re already close and I haven’t even stuck a finger inside of her yet. Don’t you want to cum together?.” Her words made you smile, it seemed like you really were good at getting them off, it made pride swell inside your chest. From now on, your biggest achievements weren’t going to be soccer championships, perfect test results, or all of that crap. They were going to be how fast you had made Shauna and her equally sexy best friend cum.

“Uh, fuck- “, the midfielder was about to retort something back but was cut off as you began to suck on her clit again, “I recall you didn’t l-last that long either, bitch.” Ah, she could deliver a good come back even in the midst of being given oral, your admiration for Shauna grew daily. The sting of the insult was mainly lost though this time as her voice shook, it was slightly shameful how something that felt like a bolt of electricity shot straight down to your core when you heard Shauna say the word “bitch” too.

Jackie seemed to notice your reaction, “Oh”, she laughed, a hand palming your now bare ass.

“What?”, the other grunted, breathing getting heavier as you took all the wetness she gave you.

“She seemed to like it when you called me a bitch”, the shorter girl said, soft fingertips trailing down to ever so gently brush against your slit.

“Of course she did, the little slut.” Shauna teased, she began to pinch her own nipples, rocking her hips upwards as you got her off with your tongue.

“Gosh, she’s pathetic”, Jackie breathed out, tone half fond and half in awe as her finger moved down and under to slowly circle your throbbing clit.

“Good with her mouth though”, the other replied. She had certainly found a great way to pass the time in the middle of nowhere. Shit, even if you guys were back in civilisation your tongue was certainly something Shauna would forgo a study session at yours for.

Your captain finally showed you mercy as she applied pressure directly onto your sensitive bud, moaning into Shauna’s pussy, you shifted so that by some luck her finger would be pushed into you.

“Want me inside?”, Jackie asked, begrudgingly moving her hand to tease you further, nearly as worked up as you were from all the teasing. Keyword: nearly, the lucky bitch had already came, she was already wet again though. Your captain knew you couldn’t reply, she was asking not for an answer, but to rile you up even further, she wanted to see you to beg for it.

“She’s been a good girl, Jackie, just fucking give her what she needs”, Shauna said, you knew she was only defending you because she was desperate to cum and right then only your tongue could get her there. If the brunette wasn’t so desperate, she’d definitely tease you along with her best friend.

There definitely was something stirring about her calling you a good girl though, since you were academic rivals as well as close friends, compliments from Shauna were scarce, the sappy side of her only coming out when she was drunk. You knew she loved you both, and knew that she cared, she just usually showed it in quieter, more subtle ways. Like driving you to and from school, picking up your favourite snacks, and always bringing an extra pen in case you needed to borrow it during the English class you shared together.

It seemed Jackie had agreed with the other girl’s statement as soon you could feel her index and middle finger enter you slowly. You moved back onto her steadily, she grabbed a hold of where your hands were tied together with Shauna’s flannel and used it to pull you onto her long fingers, controlling how fast or how slow the drag of them inside you was. “Shit, you’re so wet”, she whimpered.

Your tongue flicked against Shauna’s clit as Jackie let go of your tied wrists to play with yours. “You’re so good at eating me out baby”, the brunette praised, moving some of your hair out of your face, not wanting it to get in the way and bother you. The way she was caressing your face made you feel loved, it was a feeling that burrowed itself deep inside your chest. “I’m gonna cum”, the midfielder whimpered, basically riding your face now. You desperately needed to breathe but didn’t dare pull away - scared that you’d ruin her orgasm.

Plus who needed oxygen anyway? Your best friend’s pleasure was way more important than breathing.

Shauna came with a scream, her thighs keeping your head there as her cum flooded your mouth. God, even then you wanted more, it was scary to think you might never be sated no matter how many times she came. You eased up a little and licked her gently as she felt the aftershocks of her orgasm, moaning as the dark blonde girl’s fingers still worked inside you.

“Fuck”, Jackie groaned and to your disappointment, stopped moving her fingers, “that was like the hottest thing I’ve ever seen”. The other girl laughed, very much dazed and out of breath. You kissed Shauna a few times on her clit and inner thighs before deeming it okay to move your head away. You caught your breath as you rested your forehead against her thigh.

“You done so well baby”, the taller girl muttered, eyes closed as she ran a hand through your hair.

“Thank you”, you said, trying not to smile. You would’ve let the compliment override your brain completely, however your mind still was preoccupied with Jackie’s fingers that were still inside you.

“No, thank you”, Shauna’s voice was soft, “Babe, stop being so mean and let her cum - she deserves it”, she continued. The post orgasmic daze was making her softer, it seemed.

Jackie huffed fondly, taking the opportunity quickly to help you remove your underwear fully. They joined the pile of other clothes on the attic floor. “You’re going soft, Shipman. Of course she deserves to cum, but it’s fun to play with her”. With the words ‘play with her’, the striker began to move again and curled her fingers upwards deep inside you. You let out a strangled moan against Shauna’s thigh.

“There we go”, Jackie cooed, moving her other hand around so she could continue to play with your clit. It was as if she had done this before to someone else, as she knew exactly where to put pressure and where to just graze gently. The thought of either of them with anyone else made jealousy burn hot in your blood, pushing away the thought, you focused on what was happening now. Shauna observed a few moments longer before getting up so that she was sitting in front of you, holding you up, she kissed you soundly, groaning as she tasted herself on your tongue.

“You’ve wanted this for so long, haven’t you?” Shauna asked as Jackie put more pressure against your clit, rubbing small circles as the fingers of her other hand reached near your g spot.

You nodded, struggling to speak, a flurry of whimpers escaped your mouth as the sound of Jackie fingering you rang out across the room. The three of you knew the girls downstairs had definitely heard at least one of you by now, but you didn’t care, the only things on your mind were Jackie, who was now hitting your g spot, and Shauna, whose tongue you took into your mouth greedily. “God, you’ve always belonged to us”, Jackie spoke this time, her voice was unlike you had ever heard, it was as if something raw and primal was rising in her throat.

“Even before now as we’re fucking you”, she continued, every thrust of her fingers causing the familiar sensation in the bottom of your stomach to tighten. “I bet you’ve been waiting for us to do this, huh? Waiting around, following us everywhere like a lost little puppy, hoping we’d fucking notice you and just-“, she groaned as she felt you tighten around her fingers, “just fucking wreck you. We’ve ruined you for everyone else, haven’t we?” Her words made you melt into a puddle of desperation.

Shauna pulled away from your mouth, you could tell by the expression on her face that she absolutely loved the things her best friend was saying. “Shit, you’re right”, the brunette agreed, “I wanna know how many times you’ve touched yourself thinking of us baby, I wanna know when you do it.” She was practically whispering into your ear now, filthy words only you and Jackie could hear. “Every time after practice? When you see us in our soccer kits and just can’t help yourself? After we hang out or after our study sessions? I bet you’ve imagined me just swiping all the fucking flashcards off our desk and throwing you on there instead”.

Jackie laughed. “I wish that was on the biology curriculum, wanna let everyone know your ours”.

It seemed as if Shauna was working herself up again with the things she was saying: “I bet you’d love us to fuck you all in front of all of them downstairs, hmm? Let Tai and Lottie and the rest of them know you belong to us”.

At her words, and the mention of your teammates (who, despite your heart belonging to the two girls you were with, you were also desperately attracted to), you let out an obscene sound which could be only described as you losing whatever shred of self-respect you had left. Moving back and forth on Jackie’s fingers, you leaned forward and crushed Shauna’s mouth against your own, not only needing to feel her lips against your own and her tongue in your mouth. But to also get her to shut up because if she kept saying things like that, you’d either cum embarrassingly quickly or pass out and die.

Your efforts proved futile though as Jackie kept hitting places deep inside you that you didn’t even know existed. “Are you close?”, she teased, knowing you were about to cum all over her hand. Whining against Shauna’s mouth, you tried to squeeze your thighs and keep her hand there, knowing what she was probably going to do next. Just as you reached the edge, you felt her pull out of you. Her laughter rang in your ears as you teared up with frustration.

“Fuck, Jackie, that was so mean”, Shauna’s words seemed angry, but she was laughing, secretly just as deliciously cruel as her best friend.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it was just too tempting,” she apologised to both you and Shauna, knowing how much you had wanted to cum, and also knowing how much Shauna had wanted to watch you cum. Mainly to you though, as she could definitely see how wet you were from her position kneeling on the floor behind you.

“Please”, you pleaded, “I need you inside me, Jackie.” She let out a sigh of affection, rubbing your back a little whilst she contemplated whether she was going to let you cum this time, or be even crueller and deny you for a second time.

“Fine, my sweet girl. You’ve got me going soft for you, so better appreciate it.” She entered you again, instantly pressing up against a spot she knew drove you wild. You rambled gratitude to her as she used the fingers of her other hand to flick your clit.

Shauna peppered kisses across your face, glad that her best friend had finally decided to show you some mercy. “You’re taking her fingers so well, my love”, the midfielder said, grasping your face gently with both hands. You seemed to melt under both of their touches, Jackie’s more so literally as wetness ran down your inner thighs.

You were close again already, struggling to not cry out so loud the entire wilderness could hear you. The girl in front of you helped muffle your desperate whimpers as she kissed you again on the mouth with so much fervour your teeth nearly knocked together.

“Back onto me, yeah, just like that”, you could hear Jackie demand. “Cum for me, please, fucking cum all over my hand baby”, she was begging now.

The words sent you tumbling over the edge and your vision nearly went blurry as you came all over Jackie’s hand, your wetness running down her forearm. Shauna had to hold you gently to keep you steady, so you didn’t fall face-first onto the floor, she chuckled and kept kissing you to drown out your moans.

The striker ceased her ministrations on your clit, not wanting you to become oversensitive to the point of pain, instead fingering you slowly as you came down from your orgasm. “That’s it”, she gently guided you, running a hand up and down your back as Shauna kissed your forehead sweetly. A few moments were taken as you caught your breath, basically sandwiched between them.

When you seemed steady enough, Jackie pulled out of you and moved to untie your hands. You grunted as you stretched them behind your back in relief, trying not to grin as you realised that meant you could now pull her and Shauna closer to you. You, having grown a lot bolder, sat up and reached behind you, gesturing for Jackie to come and kiss you from behind.

She did as you had hoped, wrapping her arms around your waist she placed a kiss against your neck, kissing her way up to your cheek and then across to your mouth. Soon you could feel Shauna’s mouth on you too, kissing your cheek sweetly, Jackie pulled away so that the brunette could kiss your lips too.

“Well shit, that was fun.” Jackie laughed, Shauna moved from you and captured Jackie’s mouth with her own. They kissed with closed mouths for a minute or so before Shauna got impatient and opened her mouth so she could feel Jackie’s tongue against her own. The sight of them together made your heart swell, a pang of regret seized you that you didn’t get to see them make each other cum, but that was quickly soothed realising that tonight was about you. You’d get plenty of opportunities to see them together in the future.

“Sure was. What did you think baby? You enjoy that?”, Shauna asked you, you lowered your head, flushing.

They laughed, “Don’t act all shy now”, Jackie teased. You didn’t reply, fearing that if you opened your mouth, you’d say something incredibly cheesy.

“The girls are all probably asleep, we need to get some sleep too I think.” Shauna’s voice was gentle as she pulled away from you both and stood up, gathering all your discarded clothes as well as her red flannel that had been untied from your wrists. She took some time folding them neatly as you and Jackie sat as she held you.

You were secretly glad that they didn’t seem to be making a move to put anything on, you enjoyed the quiet intimacy of being naked around one another. Your confidence still wasn’t ideal, but they had just proved to you that they loved every part of you no matter what. You could tell Jackie felt the same way too, with the quiet way she had kept looking down at her body when she had first taken her clothes off. She acted confident but she was just like any other young woman.

It was relieving to believe someone when they told you they loved you, let alone two someones. That night when you, Jackie, and Shauna fell asleep in each other arms, not even the dread of tomorrow could creep into your chest, as it was already full of love and comfort and a warmth so unfamiliar it made you want to cry.

The next morning wasn’t much different than usual, except for the fact all of the girls couldn’t stop staring at you, when you would catch their eye, they’d look away quickly as if they were embarrassed.

Shit, they had definitely all heard you three.

a/n: welp, that's it for now goobers, tune in for part two (and possibly three ;))

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lynzishell · 18 hours ago

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Prev // Next

Transcript below the cut:

Asher: The first person I’m hiring is going to be a social media manager. The livestream will be fun, but keeping up on the rest is such a time suck. Atlas: I need real testers. Waiting for our friends to send me feedback and bug reports in their spare time is killing me.

Asher: Not exactly what I imagined our top priorities would be. Atlas: [chuckles] Me neither. Asher: It’s wild, though, people are actually starting to get excited, and we haven’t even announced the release date yet. If this game does as well as I think it will, we are gonna need to lease office space and hire a team.

Atlas: I know. It’s starting to feel very real, and I don’t know the first thing about running a business. Asher: Me neither. We’re gonna need to bring someone in that knows what they’re doing. Atlas: We’re going to need so many people. Especially if we’re going to be raising twins at the same time.

Asher: Jesus, we’re never gonna sleep again. Atlas: [laughing] What have we gotten ourselves into? Asher: [laughing] I don’t know. We’re so fucked.

Iris: Ash, will you come take a walk with me? Asher: I can’t, I’m busy.

Iris: You said you were taking the weekend off. Asher: We are, we’re just talking. Iris: Well, come on then, I need to talk to you. Asher: It’ll have to wait. I’m meeting Phoenix at the shelter, he’s already on his way.

Iris: You’re getting a dog? Asher: No, Phoenix is. I’m just helping. Iris: You’re delusional if you think you’ll be able to go to the shelter and not bring a dog home.

Atlas: That’s what I said. That’s why I’m going with him. Iris: Well, good luck to you. Just make sure Spencer knows it’s not staying here after you move. She’ll get attached. Asher: We’re not getting a dog.

Iris: Delusional!

Asher: [groans dramatically] I can’t take it anymore. We really need our own place. Atlas: I’m honestly surprised you broke first. Asher: I’m not. We need to move. Like, tomorrow.

Atlas: With what money? Asher: How much do you think I could get for a kidney? Atlas: [laughs] Asher: It’s not funny. I’m that desperate.

Atlas: I know what will make you feel better. Asher: What? Atlas: A dog.

Asher: [smiles] Don’t say that unless you mean it.

Atlas: Come on, let’s go.

#ts4 #ts4 simblr #ts4 story #sims 4 #sims 4 storytelling #the goode life #sims 4 challenge #starsignchallenge #starsignlegacychallenge #gen1 aries #aries pt5 #atlas goode #asher goode #iris goode

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paradoxic-ally · 3 days ago

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Nevermore Theory

Alright, I’m finally going to go out and post my own Nevermore theory, now that the comic has returned. A lot of the things I wanna talk about are already pretty popular subjects of theory in the fandom (“Who killed Annabel Lee?”), but I wanna tackle a few points I rarely see addressed.

I am going to put all of this under the general thesis of: “The deans don’t lie, but they deliberately mislead.”

Unscientifically speaking, every time the deans come out and tell us something, my bullshit senses go off big time! I want to focus on two main claims they have made, that influence how we view the story in a major way: Who killed Annabel Lee and What’s up with the new life?

1. Who killed Annabel Lee?

I feel it necessary to type out the exact wording the deans use, because it is often misread or misremembered. Don’t worry, that is by design!

“Betrayed by the one who loved you above all else.”

“Who loved YOU” and not “Who YOU loved”. I think that distinction is very important and easily missed. Especially since the expressed purpose of the deans in that scene is to drive a wedge in Annabel and Lenore’s relationship. Now, you could easily argue, that this still points to Lenore. The two of them are the No. 1 relationship to root for after all. But this is where the second part of the statement comes in: “above all else”. In my opinion, Lenore has already demonstrated that she can and will put other things above Annabel Lee (divorce arc anyone?). I don’t doubt, that Lenore and Annabel were a lot closer when they were still alive, but I also don’t doubt that this is one of Lenore’s core personality traits. The other thing I want to point out is, that you don’t have control about “who loves you the most.” You would hope it is your significant other, or maybe a good friend or even a parent. But you can’t really know that. Which brings me to another part of this theory: “Well, who did it then?”

Short answer, I don’t know, but I have a hunch.

First off, I kind of dismissed her father as a suspect by personal preference. We don’t have a lot to go off here, but I think he is too dismissive of her to fit the description. I’m particularly thinking about the scene where he gushed to “Leo” about boats, rather than playing wingman for his daughter.

My main suspect is instead Annabel’s nameless suitor. We don’t know much about him, other than he has already challenged Annabel multiple times (showing dedication). She says: “I’ve defeated the poor fellow a dozen times now, but he is terribly persistent.” Her father has promised him, that at the end of the season he can marry Annabel if she hasn’t found a husband by then. I can imagine how angry he might be, if that plan doesn’t shake out and she gets engaged to another man, right before he finally gets his wish.

Coming back to the deans, I think we can find that they very deliberately chose their words to lead to a false conclusion. Annabel might know who she loves above all else, but she can’t know who would love her in that way. She is left to make assumptions and we along with her. The words “love” and “betrayal” point to someone close to her, and since she died on her wedding day we are lead to a most likely suspect. That’s how we skip over the precise details of the claim. And the deans have never even uttered a lie.

2. What about the new life?

“If you survive these exams you’ll get a chance at a new life.”

That’s the first claim we get from the deans about the prize waiting at the end of nevermore academy. And it is frustratingly vague. Luckily, we already know the first trick they pulled with that one, so we can take that as a guide to analyse it further. This short little claim lets you read almost anything you want into it. It doesn’t specify how many students are allowed to claim the price or, even more importantly, how tose exams will be designed. By leaving out information the automatic assumption is: “Everyone who passes the exams, gets a chance at a new life.” However if these exams ever are designed to only allow a single winner, then only one person would be able to clear the win condition. Nobody would think about any of this, when presented with such an opportunity. It’s why all hell breaks loose when they finally reveal the reward will only be granted to one student. Speaking of which, their wording changes a bit in that reveal.

“…and to the one lucky student amongst you who will be born again.”

Born again is new. It implies at least to some degree a fresh start. Not simply a continuation from where you left off. But that’s another problem. We do not know a single thing about what that new life entails. The students are too caught up in the urgency of the whole situation. They are dead. The deans are offering a way to return. That is all that matters. We hear what we want to hear. I think if we were to ask every student, every one would want something different out of the new life. I doubt Pluto would like to return to how things were.

What the new life looks like is impossible to say, and it is once more designed that way. I still would like to theorise. My personal pet theory is, that you return to the world of the living as a spectre. This is why the deans push students to manifest train their powers. Students with strong spectres are shown favouritisms and exams are designed to eliminate students who haven’t manifested. If you were to return to the world of the living as a human, what good would your spectres do you?

Im conclusion, the deans use our own assumptions against us, by being deliberately vague on important subjects. At the same time, they have yet to outright lie about something. They simply don’t tell you things. To me, that means double checking everything they say. It is kind of like uttering a wish to a djinn or dealing with fae. Be really mindful of the wording and how it may be used against you.

Thanks for reading this far and please let me know if I have missed something, especially if it debunks some of my claims. I am happy to hear your thoughts :)

#nevermore webtoon #nevermore webcomic #nevermore theory #ally rambles

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itsnesss · 2 days ago

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𝐏.𝐒. 𝐈'𝐦 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬; minho moon ( series ) O2

pairing ; minho moon x female!reader

content ; fluff, romantic tension, angst, personal conflicts, rivalry, enemies to lovers

summary ; you never imagined your life would change so much with a simple exchange. in canada, everything was predictable, but when the chance to study in seoul came, you took it. you met minho. a tall, serious guy with a cold attitude who made you feel even more out of place. from the very beginning, you hated each other. every encounter was filled with disdainful looks and harsh words. your first meeting was so uncomfortable that all you wanted was to escape his indifference. but as time went on, you realized that minho wasn’t just an obstacle—he was the beginning of something unexpected. what started with hatred and a simple fall led to a connection that made you feel more alive than ever

status ; ongoing !!

— navigation ; OO1. OO2.

TWO ; P.S. People Often Judge

You walk towards the dormitory with a slight sense of frustration. There were no available rooms for you after talking to the director. When you arrive, the girls are already settled.

"Hey, Kitty," you say, trying to sound calm. "How are we going to organize ourselves for sleeping?"

Kitty, with a somewhat uncomfortable smile, looks up.

"Well, Yuri and Julianna decided to share a bed. So, you’ll sleep with me. At least you won’t have to sleep on the couch, right?" Kitty laughs, but there’s something in her tone that makes you think she’s not entirely comfortable with the situation.

You nod, relieved that you won’t have to sleep on the couch, but you can’t help but feel awkward.

That night, when everyone settles in to sleep, you move closer to Kitty.

"Kitty, has anything weird been going on with the girls?" you ask, bluntly.

Kitty looks at you, a little surprised by the question. She doesn’t know how to respond, but when she sees your expression, she knows you want to talk.

"A bit. I feel like there’s something uncomfortable, especially with Yuri and Julianna. They’re always... sticking together. It’s weird."

You nod, feeling a slight melancholy in your gaze.

"I try to keep myself busy so I’m not the third wheel." Kitty sighs. "But the truth is, I like Yuri, and I didn’t know how to tell her. I wrote a letter. But when I got here, she was already back with Julianna. It was a blow for me." Kitty laughs bitterly.

You look at her in silence. You didn’t expect such a personal revelation from Kitty, and it makes you feel a deeper connection to her. Kitty, always so extroverted, seems to be struggling with something much deeper.

"Wow, Kitty, I didn’t know…" you say, genuinely surprised.

Kitty smiles with a mix of sadness and gratitude.

"It’s not something I talk about much, but... well, thanks for listening." Kitty shifts a bit in bed, trying to get comfortable.

You nod, knowing that you understand more than she thinks. Despite the tension of the past hours, you feel closer to Kitty now.

The next day starts like any other, until you walk into the room where Mr. Moon’s project is going to take place. Kitty, as always, is with you, talking about anything to pass the time. However, before entering the room, you stop when you hear a conversation that makes you feel more distant than ever.

"I don’t like Stella that much," Minho says, with a casual attitude that doesn’t go unnoticed.

Kitty, surprised, asks with a teasing smile:

"Really? Doesn’t she appeal to you at all?"

Minho doesn’t beat around the bush:

"No, she doesn’t appeal to me. I saw her at the event, and there’s no chemistry. I don’t know, she’s just not my type." Minho shrugs indifferently. "What about you, though? How do you feel about Y/N?"

Your chest tightens when you hear your name. You can’t help it. The pain starts seeping into your chest.

Kitty responds with a nervous laugh:

"Well, yeah, Y/N is a good girl. I don’t understand why you’re asking, Minho."

Minho, with his usual tone, grimaces.

"I don’t know, I feel like something’s off about her. She doesn’t really convince me."

You freeze. It’s like you’ve been hit in the stomach. That’s the confirmation of something you already suspected. Minho doesn’t see you in a good light, and the discomfort you feel seems to be mutual. Without letting anyone see you, you turn away, your heart full of disappointment, and quickly walk off.

You walk briskly down the hall, not looking back. Minho’s words hit you like a wave, a cold pain slowly filtering into your chest. You don’t understand why he said it, why he made those assumptions about you when he doesn’t even know you well. What right did Minho have to say something like that? You think, your hands gripping the edges of your jacket as if you could erase the feeling of rejection that’s settled in your body.

At first, you try to ignore your own feelings, telling yourself it’s just a conversation without importance, something fleeting. But Minho’s words keep echoing in your head. He made assumptions without knowing you, and not only that, but he tried to sow doubt in Kitty. Why did he think he had the right to judge you?

The idea of going to the cafeteria seems like a useful distraction, so you head there to get something hot to drink.

When you arrive, you head to the coffee machine, hoping the smell of the brew can calm your anxiety. You take your drink in silence, watching as the other students chat and laugh, unaware of what’s going on in your head. You don’t want to think about Minho, but it’s impossible not to. The words he said about you, his assumptions about your life, all of it hurts.

With your drink in hand, you head to the Art Expression room. You don’t feel like socializing, but at least there you can focus on something different for a while. When you enter the classroom, you see Kitty, who is already sitting.

"Hi, Kitty," you say, dropping your backpack on the table before sitting down.

"Hey, Y/N! How’s it going?" Kitty responds, looking at you out of the corner of her eye but not pressing too much.

You sigh, preferring to leave the topic from the morning behind. But just as you’re about to say something else, Minho walks in. His presence fills the room immediately, as it always does. You tense up, and a thought quickly crosses your mind:

"It can’t be…"

Minho walks straight to his seat without even looking at you, but you already know it will be impossible to avoid any kind of interaction. The tension between you two has been in the air since the morning, and you feel it.

As if he hadn’t noticed the heavy atmosphere, Minho casts a mocking glance at you before speaking.

"Wow, what a coincidence. Seriously, can’t you sit somewhere else?" he says, looking at your seat with a mixture of annoyance and sarcasm.

Kitty, seeing the tension beginning to rise, quickly intervenes.

"Come on, guys. Can you stop fighting for five minutes? It’s not that serious," Kitty says, rolling her eyes and placing her hand in the center of the table, as if she’s some sort of mediator.

The atmosphere in the classroom becomes tense for a moment, but soon the door opens with force, interrupting the conversation. All the students turn to look at the entrance. The man who appears is tall, with a firm and elegant posture. It’s none other than Mr. Moon, Minho’s father, who is also the teacher in charge of the class. A murmur of surprise spreads across the room.

"Good morning, students," Mr. Moon greets in an authoritative voice. "Today we’re going to do something different. This isn’t just any class."

You and the rest of the students pay attention. What could he have in mind?

"Today we’ll determine who among you will earn a spot in the Advanced Voice program. We’ll also decide who we’ll cut off the mic as judges."

A feeling of excitement and nervousness fills the room. Some students seem excited, others tense. You, though somewhat surprised, can’t deny that the idea of participating in such an important event gives you a mix of anxiety and adrenaline.

"Each of you will present your performance, and I will be scoring. I’ve prepared a sheet with options for notes, so make sure you’re ready. Remember, it’s not just about talent; it’s about the connection you manage to convey. Trust your instincts," Mr. Moon adds.

You try to calm your nerves. You look at your sheet, quickly writing down some notes, before looking at the rest of the class. Minho, of course, seems completely confident, while Kitty can’t help but look at you with curiosity.

Finally, Mr. Moon begins to listen to each of the students. The room fills with singing, some more confident than others. You watch carefully, noticing how Minho, despite his arrogance, has a presence that draws attention. However, it’s not the only thing that stands out that morning.

At the end of the exercise, Mr. Moon begins announcing the results. Dae is the first to receive praise. Mr. Moon looks at him and says firmly:

"Dae has received unanimous approval. Well done!"

The class breaks into applause, and you can’t help but feel relieved for Dae, though your mind is preoccupied with what’s coming next.

Mr. Moon continues with the ratings until it’s Stella’s turn.

"Stella, I’m afraid I can’t accept your performance. Only one person voted for you... and that was the only one who agreed that your presentation had something to offer," Mr. Moon says with a neutral tone.

Stella stands in silence for a moment, looking at the other students before speaking.

"I didn’t mean to hurt anyone’s feelings," she says softly, referring to Minhee, who is in the same row.

Minho, who has been silent, can’t help but intervene.

"He’s hurtful to let someone with no talent think they have what it takes," Minho says with a cold look, making it clear that he doesn’t plan to soften his words.

You feel the anger starting to build inside you.

"And what do you know about what it takes?" you respond quickly, not thinking too much about your words. "Maybe the problem is that you think too highly of yourself to judge others without seeing what they really have."

Mr. Moon watches the interaction between the two before speaking again.

"Minho is right, in part. Sometimes the truth hurts, but it’s better to know it. We can’t let false talent take over something this important."

Annoyed but unwilling to let it go, you just looked at Minho one last time. You didn’t know what he was thinking, but something told you that your teacher’s words wouldn’t be the last word in the internal battle you felt toward him.

After a long and exhausting day, you finally returned to your dorm. The living room was empty; your roommates had gone to a gay club. A mix of relief and loneliness filled your chest. You had the whole place to yourself, with no interruptions. You decided to take advantage of the quiet to do homework and disconnect from everything that had happened.

Sitting at your desk, surrounded by books and papers, you slowly worked through your assignments while thinking about what had happened with Minho that morning. You felt exhausted, as if you were incapable of understanding everything that was going on. Despite trying to focus on your studies, your mind kept returning to him—the boy who had turned your life into chaos in such a short time.

When you finished your homework, you collapsed onto your bed, deciding to take a break. You grabbed a bowl of ice cream from the fridge and turned on the TV, looking for a romantic movie to help you forget, even for a little while, the tension you felt. You couldn't allow Minho to keep occupying so much space in your mind.

It was late, and your roommates still hadn’t returned, so you enjoyed the peacefulness of the room. However, something bothered you: Stella had gone out with Minho. What did he see in Stella? You didn’t understand. You couldn’t deny that you felt a little jealous, though you didn’t even want to admit it to yourself. What was Minho doing with a girl like Stella? It was hard to comprehend.

As you got lost in your thoughts, your phone vibrated. It was your sister. You decided to answer, hoping for some comfort in the call.

"Y/N? How’s everything going?" she asked in a calm voice.

"Hey, sis," you replied, relieved to hear her. "I’ve had a weird day. I’m here, doing homework, eating ice cream, and watching a movie… I don’t know, I’m just a little confused."

"Why?" she asked, noticing the tension in your voice.

You took a deep breath and told her everything you had been going through.

"I understand how you feel," your sister responded. "But remember, you can’t control what people do. You have to focus on yourself. That’s why you went all the way to Korea."

You weren’t sure if you felt better after the call, but at least you had a different perspective. You decided to go outside for a bit, get some fresh air, and clear your mind.

As you left your room and walked down the hallway, you ran into Minho. He was standing there as if he had been waiting to see you at that moment. You looked at him and, without being able to help it, frowned.

"What are you doing here?" you asked, trying to control your tone, but your frustration was already evident.

As you walked toward the building’s corner, you heard footsteps. You looked up, and to your surprise, you came face to face with Minho.

"Seriously?" you said, unable to hide the surprise in your voice. You didn’t want to see him, didn’t want to deal with him again, but there he was.

Minho looked at you with a cynical smile, almost as if he had been expecting this to happen.

"What’s wrong, Y/N? Were you hoping I wouldn’t find you here?" he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Without thinking twice, you immediately responded, showing all your disdain.

"And what do you want now, Minho? Keep making annoying comments and thinking you can tell me what to do?" You were fed up. There was no way you were going to tolerate more of his jokes and condescending attitude.

Minho raised an eyebrow, clearly unaffected. His expression was full of arrogance.

"I’m just here to remind you that you’re not as special as you think, Y/N. Sometimes, you need to come down from that cloud you live on. You think you can control everything, but you can’t."

You clenched your fists, struggling to keep your composure. You stepped up to him quickly and gave him a shove, not caring what he thought.

"You know what? I’m so done with you, Minho. You’re full of assumptions, opinions I didn’t even ask for. Do you really think you have the right to talk to me like that? To make me feel like I’m beneath you?" your voice was tense and fierce.

Minho, unfazed by your shove, didn’t move an inch. He stood there, watching you with a mix of irritation and arrogance.

"You have a lot to learn, Y/N. Maybe not everyone is here to please you, did you know that?" he said, stepping closer, his voice laced with disdain.

You glared at him, your eyes burning with anger. You couldn’t believe you were standing there, letting him act like he had control of the situation.

"You know what?" you challenged, your tone sharp. "Enough. Do you still think you’re better than me just because you have some talent and people adore you? Well, don’t be mistaken, Minho—I have my own strengths, and I don’t need your approval."

Minho smirked, unfazed.

"I never said you needed my approval. I’m just making it clear that not everything revolves around you."

Without wanting to hear more, you turned around and walked quickly back to your dorm, leaving Minho behind. There was nothing else to discuss. Every word he said only fueled your hatred toward him. And you weren’t going to stop.

With your heart racing and your stomach in knots, you slammed the door shut as you entered your room, searching for the peace you so desperately needed. Why did Minho have to be like this? What did he want from you? The only thing you knew for sure was that the more you saw him, the more you hated him.

The day of the relay race competition arrived, and the atmosphere was filled with tension. Students lined up on the track, eager to prove their skills, but something was off. Q wasn’t among the runners.

"Where’s Q?" Kitty asked, her voice full of concern as she scanned the empty field. Dae and you looked around too, frowning.

"I don’t know…" Dae replied, glancing around as if expecting him to appear at any moment. "Where is he?!"

You sighed and crossed your arms, looking at the clock that marked the start time of the competition. Something wasn’t right. Q would never miss such an important race. Suddenly, an idea flashed through your mind, like a spark igniting a warning light.

"What if… Jin made him disappear so he couldn’t compete?" you murmured, causing Kitty to react with shock and anger.

"That would make total sense… He was at the bar with him all night, and Jin would totally do something like that, wouldn’t he?" Kitty said, eyeing the competition organizers.

"We can’t let it start, not without Q," Dae said, looking at you with concern. You nodded, already starting to plan a way to interfere.

"We need to act fast," you say with determination, feeling adrenaline rush through your body. Kitty gives you a quick glance before turning toward the track, her mind clearly working at full speed.

"You know what? I have an idea," she suddenly says, her tone filled with excitement. Before you can ask, you see her striding confidently toward a table where an organizer had left a microphone unattended.

Your eyes widen as she grabs it without hesitation and brings it to her mouth.

"Come on, everyone! Let’s cheer for the runners!" she exclaims with exaggerated enthusiasm.

But the silence that follows is deafening. Only a few murmurs ripple through the crowd, and though the discomfort is obvious, Kitty remains unfazed. Instead, she starts jumping, waving her arms as if that alone could ignite energy in the spectators.

"Come on, guys! Get excited, join in!" she insists, but all she gets in return are laughter and a few boos. The organizers, now visibly annoyed, approach her, signaling for her to leave the track.

"No, I’m not leaving!" she shouts, gripping the microphone stubbornly.

You take a deep breath, feeling desperation creeping in. They can't just kick her out, not after everything you've tried.

"I can’t believe I’m about to do this…" you mutter, closing your eyes for a second before moving toward her.

Without giving anyone time to react, you dramatically collapse to the ground.

The impact isn't too strong, but you force yourself to stay still. Instantly, the murmurs grow louder. You hear gasps, whispers of concern spreading through the crowd.

"What’s happening?" someone asks.

You sense Kitty’s presence close by.

"Help! Someone, please!" she shouts, her voice perfectly mimicking panic.

Rushed footsteps approach. You’d recognize that walk anywhere. Before you can react, Minho kneels beside you, placing a hand on your shoulder.

"Y/L/N, are you okay?" he asks, his voice carrying a mix of concern and amusement.

For a moment, you hesitate. Is he actually worried, or is he just enjoying watching you in this situation?

You crack one eye open slightly and murmur in a tired voice, "I’m trying to create a distraction, idiot."

The way he rolls his eyes and frowns almost makes you laugh, but you hold it in. He steps back, crossing his arms, though he doesn’t leave entirely.

Just as you start wondering if the plan is actually working, an eruption of cheers and applause sweeps through the crowd. Q comes sprinting onto the track, his figure instantly recognizable.

You spring to your feet, abandoning all pretense, and a triumphant smile spreads across your face as the students begin chanting his name.

"Q! Q! Q!"

You did it. Q is on the track. The race is about to begin.

But your joy fades quickly as the competition starts. Jin, with his usual confidence, surges ahead effortlessly, and even though Q gives it his all, it’s not enough. Jin crosses the finish line first, raising the trophy with his signature smug grin.

Your jaw tightens. After all that effort… Jin is still the winner.

"That was painful to watch," Dae comments with a nervous laugh beside you.

You sigh, feeling a mix of frustration and resignation.

"At least we tried," Kitty says, giving you a knowing smile.

You nod slowly, because even though the outcome wasn’t what you had hoped for, at least you did everything you could. And deep down, you know this isn’t over yet.

tags ; @snowyblossomsx @awhrin @rkivesfilm @dangelnleif

#p.s. im yours #minho xo kitty #minho moon #minho x reader #minho x you #minho #xo kitty x reader #xo kitty

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nereidprinc3ss · 8 hours ago

Text

I didn’t mean to have so much to say about this but wow do I!!!!

Lots of people say they love domestic spencer reid but I don’t think they love domestic spencer reid like EYEEE love domestic Spencer Reid. Because I love domestic spencer reid where he’s doing nothing. Or he’s being kind of….. not an asshole but…… where it becomes clear that he’s just dealing with his own shit and he’s a flawed person and then I love domestic Spencer Reid where he’s dealing with his own shit and he’s a flawed person but he can still say I’m sorry!!! And they can hug and it’s okay because loving someone requires being close enough to sometimes hurt them!!!! And the realism of this kind of fic just fills me w so much joy like THISSSS is what I want from tumblr dot com I LOVEE the meditative fics where nothing crazy happens and the plot comes from the authors understanding of rich interpersonal relationships!!!! I love!!!!

This was also beautifully beautifully written like a breath of fresh air wow I truly am so lucky to get to read work from such talented people thank you for writing this and thank you for sharing it with us!!

So anyway here are the lines that jumped out at me. There is really no rhyme or reason, I tend to extra love lines that are a little philosophical and ponderous about human connection and boy was this full of that!! I am not a literary critic I am just a girl full of thoughts

You wonder if this moment is real, or if it is something you are inventing to survive.

I just think this is an jarringly astute and concise observation of something we as humans do all the time in relationships and again there is nothing I love more than an observation about human connection that I can point at and go MEEEE I UNDERSTAND THAT I KNOW HOW IT FEELS!!!! It’s very exciting to me!!

Or maybe you are lying to yourself, pretending love is something you can bear no matter how heavy it gets.

This to me was a kind of honesty most fanfic lacks and obviously most fanfic is supposed to be optimistic and perfect and reflect the readers desires back to them but quite frankly to me it hits harder when there is this subtle kind of interpersonal angst and strife that is something we can feel and recognize within ourselves it makes it easier for me to actually connect to the fic. Rather than watching it like a movie I can recognize this kind of sentiment and it’s far more immersive to me and therefore a lot more fulfilling and rewarding and interesting to read

Maybe that’s the point of all of this—not two people standing side by side, but two people learning how to take up the same space, how to move around each other without losing themselves in the process.

YEAH MAYBE THAT IS THE POINT!!! THE POINT OF EVERYTHING!!! THE POINT OF MY ENTIRE LIFE!!! This to me is just beautiful and very succinctly summarizes something I’ve been working on and will probably continue to work on for the rest of my life and I think really the whole point of love and the lesson most people need to learn!!!! Once again I like my fluffy fanfic tempered w this kind of realism!! It adds so much texture

"Oh, lovely. I've got you, it's me. I'm here, I've got you," whispered reassurances pressed into your hair, your ear, your cheek, as he moves.

No yeah actually this IS the sexiest thing a man could possible say or do!! Like care and pay attention and be present and observant!!! I won’t even be talking about this because I love it too much to dissect it

Anyways this is maybe making me look crazy I just haven’t been engaged with fanfic very much recently and I did not go into this with the intention of having anything to say about it afterward but to my own personal deep surprise was so motivated to!! And it was so beautiful and so lovely I had to say something. Pls excuse if I’ve gone overboard!! This is just such a good example of fanfic at its absolute best to me like this is what it’s forrrr this is what I wanttttt!!!! Thank you for writing thank you for posting beautiful

mouthful of sunlight (18+)

Some nights, Spencer can’t sleep. His mind runs too fast, too far, tangled in cases, in horrors he can’t unsee. But in the quiet of morning, wrapped in the hush of young sunlight, he finds solace in you—the warmth of your breath, the slow, steady rhythm of your fingers tracing his skin. The comfort is fleeting; distance is inevitable. His absence lingers in the empty side of the bed, in unfinished cups of coffee, in the soft weight of his sweater draped over your shoulders. But when he returns—exhausted, unraveling—you stitch him back together with soft reassurances, gentle hands, and the familiar ease of laughter. warnings: sexual content (who tf am I), very very wordy, mentions of a cannon-typical case, longing, some angst if you squint, mostly reader and spencer being lovesick fools wc: 7.6k

You wake to the sound of rain, soft against the windowpane. The sheets are warm, tangled around your limbs, heavy with the scent of sleep and him. Faint traces of his cologne linger in the cotton, something clean and quiet, the ghost of him woven into the fabric.

Spencer is still asleep beside you.

You turn your head, slow, deliberate - shifting too fast might startle him awake. And there he is, curled into the pillow, his body half-buried beneath the blankets, face softened by the hush of morning. His breath moves through the space between you in slow, measured exhales, lips parted slightly, lashes resting against his cheekbone.

You could spend lifetimes watching him like this.

The curve of his mouth, the way his curls press against his forehead, the fine lines at the corners of his eyes—the ones you're not sure he knows about yet. You think the mentioning of them would send him into a spiral about aging and lost time but you love their presence. It reminds you of how he's laughed with you in the past, their arrival a notion of his genuine joy. The body keeps score in freckles and scars, and time can be found in the weight of sleepless nights and too many days spent carrying more than he should.

In sleep, he is weightless. The tension he wears so often—creased brows, tight shoulders, fingers restless against his knee—has melted away, leaving only the quiet.

You reach for him before you can think of it, fingers trailing over the ridge of his knuckles where his hand rests on the pillow between you. His skin is warm, his palm lax, open. He doesn't stir so you let yourself press further, sliding your fingertips up the length of his wrist, feeling the slow pulse beneath his skin.

Spencer Reid is always thinking. Always calculating, always predicting, always existing a step ahead, untethered from the present moment.

But, right now, wrapped in the hush of morning, doused in soft rainlight, he belongs here. With you.

The thought is terrifying in its simplicity.

You swallow, pressing your fingers a little firmer against his wrist, grounding yourself in the proof of him. His pulse beats steady against your touch, and you let it lull you, let yourself fall into its rhythm.

Spencer stirs beneath your touch, just the faintest twitch of his fingers against the pillow.

You go still.

A part of you—the part still tangled in hesitation, in old wounds and old fears—worries he’ll wake, that he’ll blink at you with those sharp, knowing eyes and startle away the calm you've fostered. You love Spencer, asleep or awake, but the peacefulness of this moment is something to be cherished. You want to watch him more, to exist in this lulling moment between seconds where life doesn't matter.

He doesn't wake, though, and instead, he shifts closer, instinctive, unconscious. The space between you vanishes, his breath warming your collarbone, his hand brushing against your arm where it lies between you. He is reaching for you without realizing it, drawn in like something inevitable.

And god, that does something to you.

You exhale, slow, careful, and let yourself watch him again, let yourself sink into the quiet reverence of it.

The morning light has stretched further now, slanting through the window, gliding through the messy sprawl of his hair. He is all sleep-heavy limbs, the weight of him pressing into the mattress in a way that drags you forward, leaning against him.

Flesh and bone, heartbeat and heat.

He is here. He is yours.

The way he leans into you even in sleep, the way his fingers twitch like they are searching for yours, even now. The way his body gives him away, whispering the things his lips have not yet said.

You cannot be careless with this. With him. But before the weight of it can settle too deeply into your chest, before you can let yourself spiral, Spencer shifts again—his breath catching, his brow furrowing just slightly, lashes fluttering against his cheeks.

You barely have time to think before his eyes blink open, slow and heavy-lidded, thick with sleep.

It takes a moment, his hazy eyes focusing and unfocusing. Still, he sees you. Not just looks, not just registers your presence; he sees you.

His lips part slightly, and for a moment, he only stares, like his mind is still catching up, like he’s still tethered somewhere between dreaming and waking. Blinking like he's not sure if you're a dream. Likely, everything is clouded by sleepy eyes and fading memories of dreams.

Then, his voice, quiet, still wrapped in the softness of sleep, “Morning.”

You don’t trust yourself to speak, so you do the only thing you can—you lift your hand, still resting near his wrist, and press your fingers over his pulse once more. A quiet confirmation. A tethering.

Spencer exhales, slow, deliberate, and then he turns his hand, just slightly, just enough, so that his palm meets yours.

His fingers curl between yours, and you feel it—the certainty, the weight of something unspoken settling between your ribs.

There is morning, and then there is night.

There is sunlight spilling over Spencer’s sleeping form, gilding his cheekbones, illuminating the curve of his mouth. And then there is the stark contrast of shadow—of sterile hotel rooms, of the sharp, artificial glow of a bedside lamp casting his face in harsh relief.

His fingers, curled loosely around yours in the golden hush of morning, become hands gripping the edge of a desk, knuckles white, trembling with exhaustion. His voice, soft and thick with sleep, morphs into something raw, something fraying at the edges.

"I don’t know how to turn it off."

It takes you a moment to realize what he means.

He’s still in his suit, the fabric rumpled, the scent of cheap motel soap clinging to his skin. There’s a stack of case files beside him, a half-empty cup of coffee that’s long since gone cold. He doesn’t meet your gaze, just stares down at his hands, fingers twitching like they’re desperate for something to hold onto.

"Spencer."

Your voice is quiet, hesitant, as if anything louder might shatter him completely.

"Come to bed."

He shakes his head, exhales sharply, dragging a hand through his hair.

"I can’t."

A fight, sharp and cutting. His voice raised, your hands clenched into fists at your sides.

"You don’t get it," he snaps, voice raw, eyes burning. "You don’t know what it’s like to have a mind that never fucking stops—"

"I do," you interrupt, and the way he flinches makes your chest ache.

A pause.

Silence stretching between you like a wound torn open, bleeding into the space between your feet.

Spencer exhales, shakily, and when he speaks again, his voice is barely above a whisper.

"Then why do you keep trying to fix me?"

And there it is.

The knife twisting.

You inhale, but the breath never quite fills your lungs.

The thing is—you don’t want to fix him.

You just want him to rest.

To sleep without nightmares. To let you hold him without feeling like he has to apologize for the weight of his existence. To believe, even for a second, that he doesn’t have to earn the space he takes up.

But you don’t know how to say that in a way that won’t turn into another wound, another reason for him to step back, to pull away.

So instead, you say nothing.

"Fuck. I'm sorry." And it's that simple, really.

Sorry, arms finding each other, whispers of "I know" pressed into necks and soft conversations easing racing minds.

Spencer can't stop the relentless chase of the case in his mind. You can't stop the constant overthinking of being enough, of your body, of desires edging into too much.

Morning. Again.

Spencer, golden in the dawn, the soft breath of sleep still heavy in his lungs. Your fingers ghost over the ridges of his knuckles, tracing the delicate architecture of him, the places where bones knit together beneath skin. Flesh and blood. A body, human and whole.

Then, blood, dark and seeping through the gaps in his fingers, staining his cuffs. Not his blood. Someone else’s. A case. A mistake. A man who didn’t survive the night.

His hands shake as he scrubs them raw in the motel sink, crimson swirling down the drain, his breath coming too fast, chest rising and falling like he’s drowning, like he can feel it slipping between his fingers, the weight of every life he couldn’t save.

You touch his shoulder, and he flinches.

Time lurches.

His head on your lap, hours later. His hair damp, fingers curled weakly in the fabric of your shirt, like holding onto you is the only thing tethering him to the present.

"I don’t know how much more of this I can take."

Morning.

Back in your bed, the light different now, stretched across the sheets in delicate bands. You can’t tell if you’re awake or dreaming.

You wonder if this moment is real, or if it is something you are inventing to survive.

Spencer shifts beside you, a quiet sigh escaping him, and you watch, desperate to memorize the shape of him here, untouched by grief, by the heaviness of what he carries.

You want to wake up to this every morning.

But the truth is, you don’t.

You wake up to the version of him that drinks too much coffee, to the one who is always looking at things that aren’t there, playing scenarios in his head like a film reel stuck on loop. You wake up to the version of him that gets lost in thought mid-conversation, who chews at his nails until they bleed, who flinches awake from dreams he won’t tell you about.

And you love him anyway.

Maybe because of it.

Or maybe you are lying to yourself, pretending love is something you can bear no matter how heavy it gets.

Mornings like this, where he sleeps beside you, still and warm and untouched by the weight of the world—stretch, slow and unhurried, slipping into the day like honey dissolving in warm tea.

Spencer moves through your apartment with the careful quiet of someone who knows how to exist in shared spaces—how to make himself at home without ever taking up too much of it. He is measured, gentle, a man who has spent too much of his life folding himself into small places, and yet, with you, he expands.

You watch him from where you stand at the kitchen counter, hands wrapped around a chipped ceramic mug, warmth seeping into your palms. The coffee is slightly too bitter, but you drink it anyway, because Spencer made it. Because he takes his with too much sugar and no milk, and you take yours with just a little, and the contrast is something you love.

The morning light catches in his hair as he moves about the kitchen, curling slightly at the ends where sleep left it unruly. He wears his clothes loose in the morning—his pajama pants low on his hips, his sweater slightly too big, slipping past his wrists when he reaches for things. He is soft here, unguarded in the way that makes your chest ache.

You don’t say anything when he hums under his breath, something classical, a song you don’t recognize but have heard him play before on nights when he lets the record spin long past midnight.

You don’t say anything when he pours his coffee with one hand and flips absentmindedly through the book he left on the counter with the other.

But you do say something when he starts reading aloud.

“You know, according to the Journal of Neuroscience, studies show that sleep inertia—”

“Spencer,” you interrupt, smiling into your mug.

He pauses, blinking at you, book still in hand. “What?”

You shake your head, setting your coffee down, stepping toward him until you can reach for the book, plucking it gently from his fingers. He lets you take it, watching as you slide it onto the counter behind you, clearing the space between you.

“We’re supposed to be waking up,” you murmur. “Not filling our brains with research before we’ve even eaten breakfast.”

Spencer tilts his head, eyes flickering over your face like he’s considering it. Then, his lips curve, slow and warm. “That’s how I do wake up.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no bite to it. You both know that you love when Spencer rambles, miss it when he's gone, call him craving the sound of his voice when he's away on trips. “Come here.”

You reach for him, and he comes easily, stepping into the space you make for him, folding himself against you like he belongs there.

Spencer exhales as you press your cheek to his shoulder, hands slipping around his waist, fingers curling into the soft fabric of his sweater. His arms come around you in return, slow and careful, pressing you against him like he knows exactly how to hold you.

The shape of each other, the cadence of shared breath, the quiet rhythm of a love that is not loud or fast or reckless, but something slow and deliberate.

Spencer is slow to let you go.

Even as you shift, even as you move to pull back, his fingers tighten just slightly at your waist, anchoring you there for a moment longer. You don’t resist. You let yourself be held, let yourself stay.

But then his stomach growls. Loudly.

You grin against his shoulder. “Well, that’s attractive.”

Spencer groans, burying his face in your neck. “I knew I should have eaten before I went to bed.”

You laugh, pressing your hands to his sides. “Come on, genius. Let’s get you some food before you start reading case files on malnutrition.”

He sighs, exaggerated, but finally steps back, rubbing a hand over his face as you turn toward the stove. “I do have a study on nutritional deficiencies and cognitive function bookmarked somewhere.”

You glance at him over your shoulder, raising an eyebrow. “You have studies bookmarked on everything.”

Spencer shrugs, completely unapologetic, and moves to lean against the counter beside you, watching as you pull out a frying pan. He doesn’t help—doesn’t even pretend to help—but he does reach for the bag of coffee grounds again, refilling your mug and his, making himself useful in the way he always does.

“You want eggs?” you ask, already cracking one against the rim of the pan.

He hums, peering into the fridge. “Only if you make them the way I like.”

“You mean, as you proclaimed the first time you stayed over, the right way?”

“Yes,” he says simply.

Neither of you mention how he burned them immediately after, distracted by kissing you in the early light filtering through the curtains of the kitchen window.

You huff, but it’s all affection, and he knows it.

Spencer doesn’t sit while you cook. He doesn’t retreat to the table or get lost in a book. He stays right here, a constant presence at your side, sipping his coffee, occasionally nudging your hip with his when you get too focused.

When you plate the food, he takes his with an approving nod. “See? Perfectly cooked.”

“They;re just scrambled, picky,” you tease, nudging him toward the kitchen table with your hip.

Spencer grins, mouth full of toast. “I have standards.”

You snort, setting your plate down across from him. “Oh, I know. That’s why you’re dating me.”

He swallows, takes a sip of coffee, and then, without missing a beat, says, “No, I’m dating you because I’m in love with you.”

Your breath catches.

He says it so easily.

No hesitation. No grand declaration. Just a fact, spoken between bites of breakfast, like it’s something he’s known for years.

You blink, lips parting slightly, and Spencer—Spencer, who notices everything—tilts his head, eyes softening.

“Hey,” he murmurs, reaching across the table, brushing his fingers against yours. “I didn’t mean to—”

“No,” you say quickly, shaking your head, covering his hand with yours. “No, I—I just—”

You exhale, glancing down at where your hands meet, at the gentle press of his fingers against yours. Then, quieter: “I love you, too.”

The corner of his mouth lifts, slow, small, but full of something deep, something certain.

“I know,” he murmurs, thumb tracing slow circles against your skin. “But I still like hearing it.”

And so you say it again, just for him.

Just because he likes hearing it.

“I love you.” Spencer smiles.

After breakfast, Spencer lingers at the table while you move about the apartment, rinsing dishes, wiping crumbs from the counter. It’s a soft sort of silence. When you pass by him, his hand brushes against your hip, absentminded but full of intent, a touch that says I know you’re here. I know you’re mine.

You catch his wrist, squeezing gently before letting go.

Neither of you speak as you make your way toward the bedroom, but Spencer follows, because of course he does. Because his place is beside you, moving with you, orbiting within the same small universe.

Inside, the morning light has stretched further across the bed, creeping in golden streaks over the fabric. The air is warm with the scent of sleep, of coffee, of him.

Spencer moves first, tugging his sweater over his head and tossing it onto the bed. His hair goes staticky, curls fluffed from the fabric, and you reach out instinctively, smoothing them back into place. He stills beneath your touch, the corners of his lips twitching.

“You’re going to make it worse,” he murmurs.

“Probably.” You grin, carding your fingers through the strands anyway, just for the sake of touching him.

Spencer huffs a laugh, but he doesn’t move away.

You let him slip his fingers beneath the hem of your shirt, lifting it over your head in one fluid motion. Let him reach for the zipper of your trousers, sliding it down with the same care you’d shown him.

There’s nothing rushed about it.

Nothing frantic, nothing heated. Just this. Just hands smoothing over fabric, fingers brushing against skin in passing, the quiet, unspoken promise of I know you. I love you. Let me show you.

Spencer tilts his head, gaze flickering down, not to your lips, but to the hollow of your throat, where your pulse flutters beneath your skin. He watches it like a scholar studying something precious like he’s measuring the exact rhythm of you, the precise way you exist in this moment.

And then, with all the patience in the world, he leans in.

Not rushed. Not desperate. Like he has all the time in the world to memorize you.

His lips brush your jaw first—so soft it could almost be nothing, just a breath, just a thought of touch. Then, lower, trailing warmth along the delicate line of your neck, the curve of your shoulder.

Your fingers find his wrists, not to stop him, but to hold him there, to feel the heat of him seeping into your skin.

You shift—not much, just enough to press closer, enough to let your forehead rest against his, enough to let his breath mingle with yours.

His hands slide higher, fingertips grazing the curve of your ribs, the warmth of his palms bleeding through the fabric like sunlight through frosted glass.

Like he understands, without either of you saying it, that this is the sacred part. Not the wanting, not even the having, but the holding. The staying.

He presses his lips to your temple, soft and sure, and you feel it—the weight of love settling between your ribs, deep and real.

“I want you,” he murmurs, voice low, full of something aching.

You shudder, your fingers tightening around his wrists. “You have me,” you whisper.

Spencer swallows, pressing his forehead against yours again, his hands gripping you just a little tighter as he breathes you in.

You feel his adoration in the way he moves—hesitant, reverent. Like he’s unraveling you thread by thread, pulling you apart just to piece you back together in the way only he knows how.

His fingers ghost over the curve of your waist, not grasping, not pulling, just feeling.

Your breath catches when he finally presses closer, the full weight of him sinking into you, a slow collapse into something inevitable. His body is warm, radiating heat like a fever, like a star burning too close to your skin. You curl your fingers into the fabric of his shirt, twisting it tight in your grip, grounding yourself in the weight of him.

He exhales against your jaw, warm and unsteady.

“Look at me,” he murmurs.

You do.

And god, it’s unbearable—the way his eyes search yours, wide and dark and pleading.

His breath stutters when you reach up, cradling his face in your hands, fingertips skimming the sharp angle of his cheekbone. He leans into your touch like it’s instinct, his lashes fluttering, his lips parting slightly, his chest rising and falling in time with yours.

“Spencer,” you whisper, his name slipping from your lips like a prayer.

He answers you with a kiss.

Not rushed, not desperate. His lips move against yours, unhurried but insistent, a careful exploration, a patient claiming. His nose brushes yours, his breath mingling with yours, the quiet sounds of longing pressing into the spaces between you.

You sigh into his mouth, and he shudders, his fingers tightening against your ribs.

“Again,” he whispers.

So you kiss him again. And again. And again.

Until the space between you is nothing, until your bodies are tangled in sheets and sighs and whispered names, until everything is breath and warmth and wanting.

His hands find yours, fingers threading together, clinging, pressing, grounding. His forehead rests against yours, his breath uneven, his body trembling with the weight of this.

“I want you,” he whispers, voice wrecked, shaking, repeating himself.

You tighten your grip on his hands, pulling him closer. “I know,” you breathe. “I know.”

And when he moves again, when his lips find yours with a new kind of urgency, you know—you feel it in your bones—this isn’t just wanting. It’s everything.

Spencer kisses you like he’s searching for something.

Like the answer to every unsolvable equation is pressed between your lips, tucked beneath your tongue, hidden in the soft give of your sighs.

And you let him.

Because you know this—this rhythm, this language you’ve built together. The slow pull of hands over fabric, the careful way he unravels you. The heat that grows between you, steady and unrelenting, like a pot left to boil over.

Spencer exhales sharply when your fingers find the sharp ridge of his collarbone. You press your lips there, breathing him in, and he shivers.

Spencer is reaching for you again, already fitting his hands to the curve of your back, already tilting his head to press open-mouthed kisses to your shoulder, your throat, the place just beneath your ear that makes you sigh.

“We’re going to be late,” you murmur, though you don’t mean it.

Spencer hums, his lips still pressed against your skin. “I don’t care.”

You laugh—a breathy, delighted sound that he swallows with his next kiss, his hands smoothing over your ribs, pressing warmth into your skin.

His trousers slide lower on his hips, and he makes a sound—low, breathless, almost dazed.

And then—“I’m sorry,” he murmurs suddenly, against the corner of your mouth.

You blink, pulse stuttering. “For what?”

“For all the times I haven’t been here.” His fingers tighten at your waist, like he’s grounding himself in the weight of you, in the proof that you are here. “For leaving. For missing too much. For—”

You don’t let him finish.

You press your lips to his, pouring everything into it—forgiveness, love, understanding.

When you break apart, your voice is quiet but sure. “There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

Spencer exhales, shaky and relieved, and then—

Then he laughs, something soft and breathless, because you’ve pushed his trousers past his hips and now they’re tangled around his ankles, and it’s clumsy, and it’s human, and neither of you can bring yourselves to care.

Your own clothes follow, piece by piece, scattered and forgotten, because this is more important.

Spencer is warm everywhere, all golden skin and careful hands and parted lips. He hovers over you, his breath fanning over your cheek, his fingers tracing slow, reverent paths down your arms, your sides, like he’s still memorizing you.

And when you reach for him, guiding him closer, pulling him in, he exhales a sound—soft, broken, something like ah, like yes, like finally.

You sigh into him, arching, meeting him where he waits, and the warmth between you turns molten, turns necessary.

Spencer presses his forehead to yours, his breath uneven, his fingers twining with yours in the sheets.

“I love you,” he whispers.

And you—You're lost in the heat, the smell of him. The gentle movement as there's nothing left but you and him and him and him.

"Ah, Spencer," you breathe, and he shushes you.

"I know, I know."

It's quiet, it's breathy laughs, it's warmth building building buildig until something cracks - it has to, it's necessary, it's perfect and lovely and hot honey dripping down your thighs to gather into something greater, something perfect, something more.

It should be impossible, the way you fit together.

Like something sculpted by hands that knew what they were doing, shaping flesh and bone with deliberate care, pressing you into each other until there is no separation, no beginning or end. A seamless thing. Thread looping over itself, over and over and over into infinity. Until it cannot be separated from itself, until it is one ball of mass and moving and friction.

Heat and pressure and warmth build into something more, more more. Spencer is calling your name as if you are lost, you're grasping his back to remind him you're right here.

He tumbles and you're stuck on the edge, unable to follow. It's a brilliant thing, watching him. Eyes screwed shut, tightly. Breath coming out in spurts and spasms. Love, love, love. Pouring out of him and into you.

It's warm, so so warm, and nearly enough to send you to the place of glass shattering and pleasure fluttering and complete unity.

It isn't until Spencer's hips are faltering that he notices you there, hanging on the precipice of masterpieces yet unknown.

"Oh, lovely. I've got you, it's me. I'm here, I've got you," whispered reassurances pressed into your hair, your ear, your cheek, as he moves.

And you fall after him, tumbling down into something safe and known and foreign and unlearnable.

When you clatter back onto Earth, Spencer is warm against you, chest rising and falling in the slow, steady rhythm of shared breath. His fingers—long, elegant, familiar—trace mindless patterns against your arm, mapping you the way he memorizes pages, theories, entire histories. As if you are something to be learned, something to be understood.

As if he hasn’t already written you into the marrow of his bones.

Your limbs are tangled in the sheets, in each other, some quiet aftershock of connection humming between your skin. He shifts, pressing a lazy kiss to your temple, the edge of your jaw, the corner of your lips, his breath still heavy with you.

Whole. Uninterrupted.

Until—

A loud grumble splits the silence, echoing off the walls.

Spencer stills.

You blink.

And then—

Your stomach rumbles again, louder this time, an undignified protest against your distraction.

Spencer bursts into laughter.

It’s warm, breathless, human, cracking through the solemn weight of the moment like lightning through a storm. He drops his head against your shoulder, shaking with it, his entire body vibrating with amusement.

“Oh my God,” you groan, covering your face with your hands.

Spencer’s still laughing when he rolls onto his back, his hand dragging down his face as he tries to compose himself. He fails, utterly, letting out another breathy chuckle before turning his head to look at you.

“I’m sorry,” he says between soft huffs of breath, his eyes bright with mirth. “It was just—so poetic, so profound—and then your stomach actually growled.”

You peek at him between your fingers. “You're going to give me shit when you essentially did the same thing earlier?" You ask, aghast. Spencer nods his head, cheeky smile overtaking his face.

You groan again, but it’s half-hearted, because Spencer is still laughing, and it’s the kind of sound you’d willingly make a fool of yourself for, over and over again, just to hear it.

"Did you not have any of your stellar eggs?" Spencer asks, pulling away from you.

You both wince as connection is lost, resisting the urge to pull him back in again, to be selfish and keep the warmth of him near.

He stretches, arms raised above his head, back cracking. You stay still, stretched across the bed as he moves into your bathroom and wets a washcloth.

"No, I don't really like scrambled."

Spencer hesitates, at the foot of the bed, one knee propped up on the edge. "What?" He asks, frozen, still as a statue.

"I'll eat them but this morning they were too eggy."

"Too eggy," Spencer mutters, voice aghast, cleaning you before pinching your thigh playfully. "Come on, time to get you to work."

The moment lingers, shifting into something softer, something easy.

And then—

You’re standing in the kitchen, hours later, Spencer in his undershirt, stirring a pot of something that smells like warmth, like home.

Your stomach grumbles again.

Spencer smirks, not even turning around. “Should I start reciting poetry, or—”

You throw a dish towel at him.

||||

There is the weight of Spencer pressed against you in the morning, the heat of his breath on your skin, the steady rhythm of his fingers tracing patterns into your ribs. And then there is the cold side of the bed, the imprint of him faded from the sheets, the silence of an empty apartment that settles like dust in your lungs.

He’s gone.

Not forever. Neer forever.

But the difference between knowing something and feeling it is vast, and this morning, you feel it.

The bed is too big. The air is too still. The coffee is too bitter without his absentminded habit of adding too much sugar to the pot when he thinks you aren’t looking.

His absence moves through the space like a ghost, turning everyday things into echoes of him.

A book left open on the table, spine cracked, a scrap of paper sticking out with notes in the margins.

A half-full mug beside the sink. He always assures you he'll finish it later but never does. You don't mind, savoring the reminder of him when he leaves in the middle of the day with little notice.

The sweater he left draped over the back of a chair, smelling like warmth, like him, like something undone.

You exhale, pressing your fingers to the edge of the table as if grounding yourself, as if it might keep you tethered.

You knew this would happen.

It always does—cases that stretch into days, weeks, phone calls that come at odd hours, the sound of his voice wrapped in exhaustion and apologies, the waiting, the not-knowing.

You reach for your own coffee, cradling it between your palms, letting the heat seep into your fingers.

Your phone buzzes. A message. Short, simple.

Spencer: I miss you.

The breath in your chest stutters.

Your fingers hover over the keyboard, a response forming before you can even think about it.

You: I miss you too. It’s too quiet here.

Three dots appear. Pause. Disappear.

You wait, staring at the screen, willing the space between you to close, even just a little.

Spencer: I’ll call you tonight. Stay in my sweater until then.

You let out a breath, something soft, something caught between a laugh and a sigh. You reach for it, slipping it over your shoulders, wrapping yourself in the remnants of warmth.

It’s not the same.

But for now, it will have to be enough.

||||

The door unlocks with a quiet click.

You don’t move right away.

You should—should stand, should cross the room, should meet him in the doorway. But instead, you sit still, curled into the couch, the weight of waiting still heavy in your limbs, pressing you down.

Footsteps. Familiar, careful.

“Hey,” Spencer murmurs, quiet, hesitant, like he isn’t sure if you’re asleep, if he should wake you, if he’s allowed to break the silence.

You inhale sharply, and that’s what does it—what snaps the moment in two. You push up from the couch, feet hitting the floor, your body moving before your mind catches up.

You are in his arms.

He exhales sharply at the impact, his bag slipping from his shoulder, his arms wrapping around you with something desperate, something relieved, like he’s been waiting for this moment just as much as you have.

The scent of him—faint cologne, the sterile bite of too many hotels, the quiet warmth that is Spencer—hits you all at once. You press your face into his shoulder, fingers curling into the fabric of his jacket, holding tight.

“You’re back,” you breathe, and it’s obvious, unnecessary, but you need to say it, need to hear it, need to confirm it.

Spencer laughs—soft, exhausted, fond. “I’m back.”

You feel the words vibrate through him, feel the shape of them beneath your hands, the weight of them settling between your ribs.

“Did you miss me?” You laugh, a quiet, breathy thing, your grip tightening on his jacket.

“Not at all,” you say, pulling back just enough to look at him, to see him. His face is tired, his eyes a little shadowed, but there’s something soft there, something bright just beneath the surface.

His lips twitch. “Liar.”

You hum, tilting your chin up just slightly, brushing your nose against his, letting the warmth between you settle.

“Say it anyway,” he murmurs.

So you do. “I missed you, Spence.”

His breath stumbles and he kisses you.

It’s not rushed. It’s not desperate. It’s homecoming, warmth where there was once cold. It’s touch where there was once absence. It’s the quiet, certain return of something that never really left.

It takes a while for Spencer to let go and, even when he does, he keeps a hand on you. Not even after the kiss fades into breaths, not even after his bag is abandoned by the door, not even after you’ve guided him toward the couch, pressing your hands to his shoulders until he sinks into the cushions with a sigh.

You don’t ask him about the case.

Not yet.

Instead, you move around him, nudging his shoes off with your foot, smoothing his hair back from his face, pressing your fingers into the stiff muscles at the back of his neck. His eyes flutter shut, and he exhales slow, like he’s unspooling one spiraling thread at a time.

“You look exhausted,” you murmur, brushing your knuckles over his cheek.

“I feel worse,” he admits, cracking one eye open to look at you. “I think I might actually be a ghost.”

You hum, tilting your head. Slowly, you press a finger into the center of his chest, thumping it against his sternum twice. “I don’t know, you feel pretty solid to me.”

Spencer lets out a breathy chuckle, shaking his head. “Okay, fine. Maybe I’m only part ghost.” He waves a hand in the air, "I hover between realms, or whatever those silly books you read would say."

“Well,” you say, ignoring the dig at your admittedly less-academic reading preferences, pressing your lips to his temple, lingering, “if you were a ghost, you’d be a talkative one. Following me around, rambling about hauntings and historic criminal cases—”

Spencer scoffs. “I’d be a great ghost.”

“Would you?”

“I’d be an educational ghost.”

You snort, letting your fingers trail down his arm, wrapping your hand around his wrist, pressing against the pulse there. “I think I prefer you educational and alive.”

Spencer smiles, but it’s softer now, more worn, and when he leans into you, it’s not just playful—it’s relief.

You shift, curling into him, letting him fold himself against you like he’s been waiting for it for days. He buries his face against your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin, and you feel the tension still lingering in him, the weight of something else.

Something he’s not saying. So you just hold him.

One hand drifts into his hair, threading through the soft curls, the other smoothing over his back, steady, slow. His fingers flex against your side, gripping, holding, grounding. He sighs, deep, exhausted, pressing closer like he’s trying to escape something.

You kiss the crown of his head. “You don’t have to tell me,” you whisper. “But you can.”

Spencer is quiet for a long moment, his breathing uneven, his fingers still pressed into your skin. “The case was a little boy,” he murmurs, barely above a breath. “He lost his—” His voice wavers, and he swallows hard. “His whole family. We nearly didn't find him in time."

It's the most he can give you, the most that the public has probably heard, too, but it's enough to impress upon you the true horrors he's facing.

You close your eyes, tightening your arms around him. “Spencer.”

He shakes his head, shifting just enough to rest his forehead against your collarbone. “I just—I keep thinking about him. How small he looked. How scared.”

You press your lips together, blinking hard, willing yourself to keep it together for him. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, voice thick. “I know that doesn’t help, but I am.”

Spencer exhales shakily, nodding against your skin. “It helps.”

You don’t know if that’s true, but you keep holding him anyway. Keep smoothing your hands down his back, keep whispering his name, keep pressing your lips to his temple, his cheek, the corner of his mouth, like you can will the heaviness away.

“I’ve got you,” you murmur against his skin. “You’re home.”

Spencer lets out a slow, shuddering breath. “Yeah,” he whispers. “I am.”

Spencer doesn't move much, pressed against you, letting himself be held. His breathing steadies, his hands no longer gripping like he’s afraid of being pulled away.

You shift, just slightly, pressing your cheek against the top of his head. “You wanna do something mindless for a bit? Watch bad TV? Read a book with no footnotes? Stare at a wall together?”

Spencer snorts, muffled against your skin. “Tempting.”

“I'm very persuasive when I want to be.”

“That’s one word for it.”

You pull back just enough to look at him, narrowing your eyes. “Excuse me?”

Spencer finally lifts his head, and there’s something lighter in his expression now, the weight of the case still lingering, but no longer pressing quite so hard against the edges of his mind.

He shifts, settling further into the couch, his knee bumping against yours. “You bullied me into watching a terrible documentary about haunted dolls last time I came back from a case.”

Your mouth falls open in offense. “It was informative!”

Spencer levels you with a flat look. “It was ninety minutes of a guy holding up dolls to the camera and whispering ‘Do you hear that?’”

You press your lips together, fighting back a laugh. “Okay, maybe it wasn’t the most scientific—”

“There was a scene transition shaped like a skull.”

“You didn’t have to watch it!”

Spencer gestures at himself dramatically. “I was physically incapacitated by exhaustion!”

You shove at his shoulder, laughing now, and he catches your wrist easily, pressing a quick, warm kiss to the inside of it before letting you go. The gesture is so easy, so thoughtless, that your chest goes tight with it.

Spencer sighs, shifting so he’s half-leaning against you again, pressing his forehead briefly to your shoulder before pulling back. “But,” he admits, softer now, “it was kind of nice. Sitting with you. Not thinking for a bit.”

You hum, tucking your legs beneath you, leaning into his warmth. “I am great at the whole ‘not thinking’ thing.”

Spencer huffs a laugh. “That’s not what I meant.”

“You sure? I distinctly remember you asking me how I manage to not overanalyze things while I was eating a bowl of cereal the other day.”

“That was—” He pauses, brows knitting together. “Okay, yes, but that’s because you were reading the cereal box like it was literature.”

“It was a compelling narrative, Spencer.”

He tilts his head. “The ingredients list?”

“The lucky leprechaun’s backstory,” you clarify.

Spencer just stares at you.

You grin, nudging his knee. “It’s called escapism, genius.”

Spencer shakes his head, exhaling something close to a laugh-sigh, then shifts again, tucking himself more comfortably against your side.

"Unless you're calling me dumb," you muse, not ready to give up teasing him. He takes the bait easily.

"I would never say that-"

"i'm pretty certain that's what I'm hearing."

"Absolutely not." You sit silently, humming dramatically, hoping for a compliment that you're sure is to come. "You're one of the smartest people I've met, actually. That's why your taste in books and documentaries appalls me."

"You're good at groveling, Dr. Reid."

He doesn't answer, chuckling and pressing his lips against your shoulder in response instead.

After a moment, his fingers brush against yours, hesitant for only a second before twining them together. Quiet settles between you again—not heavy this time, not suffocating. Just easy. Just you and him. Spencer squeezes your fingers lightly, voice soft when he speaks again.

“You make coming home easy.”

Your throat goes tight, and you squeeze back. The shift in tone is palpable. You long to linger in the feeling of warmth and safety and the earnest way he mumbles it. “Good,” you murmur, pressing your forehead to his temple. “Because you are home.”

Spencer exhales, slow and steady. “Yeah,” he whispers. “I know.”

You don’t move immediately after Spencer settles against you, letting his weight sink into the couch, his fingers loosely tangled with yours. He’s relaxed now, softer, the weight of the week still lingering in his tired eyes but no longer pressing quite so hard on his shoulders.

It’s the perfect time to strike.

You reach for the remote, flicking through streaming options with intense purpose.

Spencer glances at you, suspicious. “What are you doing?”

“Putting something on to help you unwind.”

His eyes narrow. “What kind of something?”

You hum innocently. “Oh, you’ll see.”

Spencer watches as you select a YouTube documentary—one you know is riddled with inaccuracies, one that will absolutely send him into a spiral.

The second the dramatic narration begins, Spencer physically tenses.

You stifle a smile. You watched it when he was gone, something mind-numbing after a long day at work, and have been waiting to see his reaction to the ridiculous claims of the conspiracies.

The documentary wastes no time getting things wrong.

A sweeping shot of pyramids. An ominous, overly intense musical score. And then, in bold, serious tones:

"The ancient Egyptians, known for their fascination with aliens—"

Spencer inhales sharply, head snapping toward you, eyes wide with horror. “Their fascination with WHAT?”

You shrug, biting your lip. “Aliens, love. Keep up.”

Spencer throws his hands in the air. “Ancient Egyptian society was a highly advanced civilization with remarkable achievements in engineering, mathematics, and medicine—why does everything have to be aliens?”

You pat his knee comfortingly. “Shh. The experts are speaking.”

He turns back to the screen just in time to hear the narrator say:

"Some theorists believe the Sphinx was originally a statue of a dog, not a lion."

Spencer physically jolts, glaring at you again.

“A dog?” he scoffs.

You bite back laughter. “I don’t know, Spence. It kinda looks like a dog if you squint.”

He looks betrayed. “It doesn't. I know you don't think it does.”

You hum thoughtfully, pretending to study the screen. “Maybe, like, a bulldog?”

Spencer presses the heels of his palms into his eyes like he’s in pain. Give me the remote. There's a better, actual documentary, about 1940s Germany that I wanted to show you instead of this-” he gestures toward the screen, "garbage."

You grin, nudging his side. “Oh, you love it.”

“I do not—”

A new segment starts, this one even worse, featuring a so-called “historian” confidently stating that the Romans invented cheese.

Spencer makes a noise nearly resembling a laugh and you know you've got him.

“No they didn't," he says, deadpan, shaking his head and clicking off of the video.

You lose it. You cackle, curling into his side, shaking with laughter as Spencer queues up an actual documentary, switching on subtitles for you.

“I hate you,” he mutters, but his voice is fond, his arm still wrapped tight around you.

“No, you don’t,” you tease, leaning into him.

He sighs dramatically, dropping a kiss to the top of your head.

“No,” he murmurs, softer now. “I really don’t.”

And just like that, the warmth settles back between you, easy and earned.

Even if he’s still muttering about the Sphinx as the documentary starts.

You settle down like that, listening as Spencer adds his own interesting facts to the documentary. This is home, wholly and truly, sitting on this couch next to him.

You're sure to ask questions, keep him talking, until he falls asleep, missing the sound of his voice the second he dozes off.

#fic recs #that should be me #fic motherfucking recs

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