#still working on the survey just. slowly.

[giantkillerjack]

It's important to play a "LEVEL UP!" sound effect in your head whenever you get better at a skill because the world is flawed and so this does not happen automatically.

Often, in this life, we must provide our own sound effects.

[monstersholygrail]

oh to be a mouse hybrid toyed with by a cat hybrid who just wants to see you squirm in every way

Ooh when the Cat Hybrid’s owners told him they were getting him a new little friend, you, a Mouse Hybrid were by far the last thing he was expecting.

He wanted another cat to mess with, to play with… to mate with. But he couldn���t stop himself from noticing your plump round form scurrying about the house or the constant skittish look in your eye as you surveyed your new home. Perhaps you would do.

From that day on he would terrorize you mercilessly. Chasing you around the around the house when your owners were gone, saying he was gonna devour you when he finally got his claws into you. Backing you into corners just to see the delicious terror in your eyes. Plopping his large form right on top of you so that you couldn’t escape him even as you scrambled desperately to get away.

It was never ending and as much as you wanted to say you hated it, it felt far too good. The Cat hybrid severely underestimated you, forgetting you too were a hybrid with all the same perks. You could smell his desire in the air every time he chased you. And you had grown addicted to the scent. To feel so wanted and yearned for, especially during the chase, nothing else could compare.

He would only ever mess with you when he felt like it so you figured you might need to give him a little push. Using yourself as bait you use your owners creaky stairs to your advantage. As soon as the first step creaks, the Cat hybrid’s head snaps up from where he’s perched. His eyes meet your wide ones for only a moment before you’re bolting down the stairs.

As soon as you hear the pounding of paws behind you, you smirk wickedly knowing your plan had worked. Cute little squeaks leave your mouth as you run throughout the house, narrowly trying to avoid being caught. He should’ve realized how much you like this. You’re much faster than him after all.

After rounding the next corner you wait a moment for him to catch up. Seeing a flash of fur and then you’re off. The Cat Hybrid pauses for a moment as he realizes what you had just done. What you’ve actually been doing this entire time.

Adrenaline pumps through his veins as he chases you at lightning speed. He’s catching up to you in no time and by the look of genuine alarm in your eye he knows this wasn’t a trick. Instead of his usual antics he pounces on you, sending you both tumbling to the floor.

“You messin’ with me, little mouse?” He growls in your ear, his body pinning you to the hard wood floor. You don’t even bother to squirm, your heart beating out of your chest as you stare up at him.

Before you can even blink he’s shoving his hand down your pants and swiping his fingers through your folds, your slick drenching them with how aroused you are. He chuckles lowly, rumbling purrs vibrating into your chest and straight to your core.

“So this has been a game to you, huh? A bit of foreplay before I inevitably snap and fuck you dumb.”

You find you can’t even answer, panting breaths escaping you as you rock with his hand that’s slowly rubbing against all the right places. He devilishly smiles and pushes two fingers deep inside you, causing your hips to jolt as you cry out.

“Well, sweetheart, you’ve done it. I’ve snapped,” he says with a menacing snarl as he pumps his fingers roughly against your walls, his claws just barely scraping them and setting your nerves on fire.

You try and be as good as you can, staying perfectly still for him as he fucks you with his fingers, but your small reaction only seems to infuriate him further. He picks up pace, licking and nipping at your throat until you too break and your moans echo throughout the empty house. A secret smirk plays on lips.

That is until the Cat Hybrid plays a trick of his own. Pumping his fingers inside you, drawing you closer and closer till you’re just about to fall off that edge when he suddenly stops and withdraws. You whine, squirming now as you begin to beg for more.

“I see through you now, sweet prey. You won’t be winning this one.”

You only start to realize your mistake as he starts fucking you with his cock, the large length stretching you so good. The natural curve hitting the soft spot inside you perfectly. Then he starts doing to you exactly what he did with his fingers. Bringing you up to the edge and then pulling you right back.

He’s as merciless as he is when terrorizing you and in a way he’s doing just that but in a whole new way that drives you more insane than the chasing ever did. Eventually you’re a sobbing mess, your tears and your arousal forming two separate puddles on the floor with how in need you are right now as he starts up again.

You jump as the sudden sensation of his wet nose nuzzling into your neck, his purrs even louder now. You immediately cling to him, meeting his thrusts and trying to chase your growing orgasm before it’s taken away again.

“Do you think you’ve earned the right to cum for me now?” The Cat Hybrid asks and you whine, nodding rapidly.

You feel his grin against your skin before he pulls out and starts slamming his cock deep inside your cunt. His intent clear before he even says a word. But when he does it’s like music to your ears.

“I agree. Cum for me, mate.”

This time as you get closer and closer to the finish, he doesn’t stop. Instead, his hands slips down and rubs tight circles into your clit. Your orgasm breaks through almost instantly and you scream as you milk his cock for all it’s worth, sending him right into ecstasy with you.

But the sound of the car door doesn’t leave either of you much time to bask in pleasure coursing through you. Luckily the Cat hybrid takes the lead, maneuvering you both as he curls around you, keeping you stuffed full of his cock but hiding any of the evidence. You’re too weak to do anything but shift into how he molds you. Making it appear as if you two are asleep and cuddling in the hall.

“Aw, look at them. Finally getting along,” you hear your owners say who are none the wiser to what’s really going on.

Cat Hybrid bf rocks his hips, snapping them back inside you quietly and forcing a squeak from your throat. He chuckles under his breath and nuzzles into you, not planning on moving away from you for hours. Wondering how many more orgasms he can rip from your tight pussy.

[staryuee]

GIVING THEM A FRIENDSHIP BRACELET

꒰warnings꒱ not proofread…:3

⠀꒲ ` synopsis . . . how would your significant other react when you give them a friendship bracelet made by your own kind hands?

⠀꒲ ` characters . . . diluc, kazuha, kokomi, scaramouche, heizou, itto, cyno, lyney, lynette, freminet, furina, neuvillette, navia, ga ming, chiori, arlecchino

⠀꒲ ` notes . . . this reminded of primary school days of making randomly coloured loom band bracelets…sniffles, the good ol’ days of giving your crush bundled up daisies that had bugs on them from the schools yard and then immediately running away (i am a lesbian i had no such experience in just talking for the sake of poetry ☆〜（ゝ。∂)

R. DILUC — 迪卢克

“what’s this, my love?” he cautiously surveyed the tiny strings and charms with a shocked yet rather satisfied expression. so this is what you were so focused on for the last couple hours…? he can’t help but feel slightly relieved that instead of wasting away at work you were merely crafting a cutely childish gift for him.

“it’s a friendship bracelet! look, i even managed to find these cute strawberry charms for you.” you laughed and start fiddling with the short strands near his scalp, fiddling with them and folding them over to create a stem-like shape.

diluc softly exhaled in amusement, wrapping the small piece of jewellery around his already bedazzled wrist. it takes him a real good second to actually realise what you just said. awkwardly coughing into his hand, diluc catches your attention, “darling, you do realise we’re married?”

a smile possesses your face as you hook your arm with his. “of course i do! i just thought it’d be cute, you know?” he smiled in response.

diluc is no stranger to friendship bracelets. after all, him and kaeya used to make those for each other all the time. sometimes that young triplet consisting of a very dedicated jean, a shy kaeya and a mischievous diluc (sometimes a cutsey barbara who tried to eat the beads) would gather together to create and exchange such bracelets.

a tradition that diluc might’ve let go of but had never forgotten. when you go to sleep at night diluc immediately places your bracelet into a drawer where he kept all of the ones from his childhood.

K. KAZUHA — 枫原万叶

“is this a friendship bracelet? that’s very considerate of you, my love.” kazuha tilts your chin to press a feather-light kiss onto your lips, his touch so tender it was like being touched by sunlight itself. “but i thought we were passed our journey of friendship?” his hand travel down to your hips. squeezing them intently to bring you close to his flowery scent.

“or do i need to remind you that we’re lovers?” taking your hand in his, kazuha leaned his head down to press his lips against your knuckles, eyes peeking through his bangs as if to entice you. and, well, of course it did. kazuha knew just a simple glance at you paired with an affectionate grin was enough to lure you into loving his arms.

kazuha didn’t expect for a piece of handmade jewellery consisting of maple leaf charms with red string to become so sentimental to him, but it was only a matter of time till the bracelet helped become an engraved memory of you. he’d kiss it each time you were apart, hold it up against moonlight while stargazing, trying to illustrate your figure within a constellation.

wandering became more exciting. he’d get to slowly part from your lips, while still having a perpetual reminder of the love you shared with a few pieces of strings tied to his wrist alone.

kazuha, though content with this, always secretly craved to hear the sound of your voice as you called his name and reached out to him. however, within his life he’s learned one thing that has truly stood out; it’s the small things in life that mirror true beauty.

S. KOKOMI — 珊瑚宫心海

“your excellency? what is that on your wrist?” gorou tilted his head curiously, his ears twitching in tandem.

“hm? oh, this?” she shakes the coral coloured bracelet, making the beads and fish charms jingle excitedly as if they were jumping within sea waves. “haha, [name] gave it to me. it’s a friendship bracelet!” kokomi shows it off with pride, a flutter of flapping fins hit her ribcage in the form of her beating heart at the prospect of people seeing the deepness of your ocean-depth bond with just a few beads on a string.

burnout is utterly debilitating. as kokomi spends only a few minutes in her recluse corner within watatsumi, even the shimmering of pearls and the quiet sound of the shore isn’t enough to bring her fragmented energy to rest. nesting her head upon the bundled arms that laid carefully on her desk, she attempted to snooze. finding that she can just barely flutter her curled eyelashes close before an unbearable ache pinches her eyebrows into a knot.

feeling defeated, kokomi sits back up and taps her fingers absentmindedly on the wood, finding just a tiny bit of solace in the sound of clicking and clacking. wait…she quickly glanced at her wrist, noticing she completely forgot to take off her bracelet when preforming her duties. despite her fatigue, kokomi can’t help but exhale a smile. calloused fingers tweezing the bubbly fish charms in an attempt for stimuli that wasn’t so agonising.

she’s so glad she has you, even if that memory of you is withheld in something children share for an intended promise of foreverness.

SCARAMOUCHE — 斯卡拉姆齐

“are you twelve?“ scaramouche raises his eyebrows at you with a sneer, a look of either disgust or confusion on his face. “if i didn’t know any better, i’d say you were mocking me.”

“you’re short but not kid short!” you retorted to appease him, rolling your eyes at his annoying theatrics. did he really have to be so bitchy all the time? i guess when people say that short people tend to be the most angry because all that wrath is bottled into such a teeny body it’s very true…

the friendship bracelets (yes you made two!) were a representation of his journey from the malicious “balladeer” to the slightly less malicious and more so bittersweet wanderer. a contradicting colour palette yet his frosty and asshole attitude remained the same no matter what hue of the rainbow he was dipped in (should’ve been named skittle not scaramouche).

“if you don’t like it that much you don’t have to wear it, it’s not like i’m forcing you.” a pang of disappointed squeezed your chest heavily. it would’ve been fine if he just threw it away after a week or so. you would’ve been extremely hurt yes, but it’s better than having your own lover reject a handmade gift without even a thought for your feelings.

seeing your frown lines and the way your eyebrows scrunched together, scaramouche sighed and immediately snatched the bracelets back. quickly covering them over his wrist and crossing his arms over his chest defiantly. “i never said i wouldn’t wear it, stop being whiny.”

the slight embarrassment he felt was worth every stroke of blush on his cheeks if it meant he could see you smile brightly at something so childish.

S. HEIZOU — 鹿野院平藏

“it’s not our anniversary.” heizou stated simply.

“nope.”

“neither of our birthdays.”

“nope.”

“not a special achievement either.”

“nope.”

“alright, love, spill. what’s the occasion, hm? just in the mood to spoil me with your affections?” heizou threw his hands up in defeat. not being able to use his detective experience into deciphering why you decided to be so cute today and bless his otherwise uneventful day.

carefully, you wrapped the bracelet around his eager wrist. “no occasion~ just felt like giving you a friendship bracelet to show my love for you.” he raises an eyebrow. leaning to your eye level, heizou procures a look of confused distaste at your seemingly innocent admission. “friendship?” he looks away dejected, placing his hands on his hips. “and here i thought i was your very cool and sweet boyfriend.”

brushing away his dramatics and looping your arms around his neck to pull his pouty face in closer, you retaliate. “oh hush, you’re still my lovely dramatic boyfriend.” heizou smirked and leaned in impossibly close, his breath tickling your soft skin generously.

“then, could you show your love for me in another way too?” begrudgingly, you caved. moulding your lips with his while his hands gradually situated themselves on your hips. a chuckle escapes his occupied mouth, leaving a tingling feeling down your spine as you pull away, a bright smirk on his face. “thanks for the bracelet, baby~ i’ll be sure to wear it as my lucky charm during investigations!”

A. ITTO — 荒泷一斗

“well of course you’d want to bless the almighty arataki itto with such a gift! i humbly accept your offering~” itto sways a thumbs up, tongue rolling across his pointy teeth in an extravagant display of confident hubris. all in vain, of course. no amount of bravado could dull the charming blush on his cheeks; the way his grin hoisted into a genuine smile of gratitude or the way his eyes glistened with a familiar light; childlike wonder.

itto was never and has never been accustomed to such small things in life. honestly, he was lucky for a stranger to not throw insults, physical objects, hits, kicks, spit, and the like for his mere existence. a friendship bracelet was an event that was so far out of reach for the oni that the only thing he wanted to do right now was to kiss you stupid.

but, he couldn’t. he stood still, twiddling with the beads that nested against his wrist with a haze that was absentminded you felt like tapping him would cause a bubble to burst above his head for water to splash him awake.

the word “friend” doesn’t even register into his brain. he’s too content with the knowledge that your bond meant something to you. that he meant something to you.

you’ve never seen itto so quiet before. he’s usually this giant (literally) ball of energy that bounces around the place and shares an infectious attitude of confidence and joy with no restraint even to the most stoic, but right now, it was like he was that small vulnerable child again given a chance at redemption for simply living.

CYNO — 赛诺

cyno tilts his head to the side as he stares with pinched brows at the weaved threads of purple and yellow beads and charms that you held in front of you with a delicate hand. “what’s the bracelet for?”

“it’s a friendship bracelet!” taking the initiative, you wrap the bracelet around his relatively small wrist and watch in awe as it seems to match his palette perfectly. perhaps not his personality, but maybe if he wore this around regularly people wouldn’t be so frightened by his frozen features.

cyno went quiet for a moment, a look of confusion on his face. a look that made you shrink in shame. did he not like it? was something wrong with it? is it too childish for someone with such an esteemed status? all such baseless thoughts get immediately dispelled once cyno’s lips curl into a subtle grin, his eyes narrowing devilishly.

you’ve often seen this look when he’s about to score a rewarding win in a tcg tournament. but, he also had this look when…fuck. you sigh in defeat and simply let him say it. “why did the friendship bracelet break up with its partner?”

“…ha. why?”

“because it felt tied down.”

you know how in animes when someone says something very fucking stupid, it’s like the world echoes with silence to allow the person to truly feel the embarrassment from their words? you hoped that’s what cyno felt when you blank stared him with a thin line for your lips, hands clenching and unclenching as you fought the urge to squeeze his cheeks together.

“do you get it?” he asks, but before he can ramble about the absolutely articulate construction of his pun, you spring into action and press your lips passionately on his. of course, he replies eagerly. enjoying the clicking of the beads hitting together as his hand made it’s swift, instinctive movement to your waist.

LYNEY — 林尼

“mon ange…is this for me?” lyney smiles gently at you, sneaking the red bracelet onto his wrist. unable to take his away from the fine craftsmanship and the adorable details of hats, doves and some card charms. knowing you thought of him so directly and so in depth made his heart flutter the same way a dove’s wings expand after being liberated from a cooped cage.

“of course it is, it’s a friendship bracelet!” you clasp your hands behind your back, awaiting either his praise or his teasing — whatever he was in the mood for more. despite the happiness that surged through his heart like a bad game of throw the dart, believe me you shot him hard in the feels, lyney frowns.

“but, mon chéri…” he sighs in despair, a theatric hand over the very heart you had gripped tightly in your hand with a mere few beads of coloured wax. “i haven’t gotten a gift for you, i feel rather ashamed of myself.”

“don’t worry about that, this is just meant to be my good luck charm for you during your shows and…” your voice trailed off to him. not because he was uninterested but because he loved the buzzing sound of your melodic syllables each time your lips opened.

“ah, my dear,” lyney paused your affectionate rambles politely, “you’ve got something here…” you tilt your head to the side quizzically and await for him to point at it or take it out. he grins wildly. “well, isn’t that cute?” lyney chuckles softly and while leaning suuuper close to your ear, ‘magically’ pulls out a rainbow rose from seemingly no where.

“it seems we’re even now, hm?” he gestures, handing the rose over with a wink, leaving a cheeky kiss to your jawline in gratitude.

LYNETTE — 琳妮特

knowing lynette’s character and demeanour intricately, you’re aware that grand gestures aren’t at all her thing. she can barely handle a tea time conversation with someone if she’s forced to play an active role.

the bracelet sat enclosed within your palm as you rambled on about your day to lynette, feeling an unshakable amount of anxiety vomiting into your gut for no reason but overthinking. you’ve been avoiding giving her this bracelet for a week now in fear she’ll find very little value or use in something so minimal.

“you have something you want to give me.” a phrase intended as a question, but said more so as a statement.

“i…uh, how did you know?” you laugh and play with the strings of the bracelet cautiously as to not break it.

“your eyebrows are furrowed and you keep glancing away from me.” she analyses you like a real robot…i guess she’s really committed to that bit. either that or she just loves you too much that being unable to read your expressions would be a grievous sin on her part.

with a sigh of defeat, you slide over the bracelet to her with an awkward smile paling your usually joyous lips. “i made a friendship bracelet for you…thought it’d be cute.” lynette doesn’t understand people around her a majority of the time. truly, she doesn’t even want to, it’s not like she needs to either since she has her brother to leech on and others to fool with her robotic party trick and yet, she can’t help but wonder why it is you choose to defend yourself over something so sweet.

“thank you, it’s cute. i’ll wear it for my next show if i’m able to.” her lips curve upward in what to most would seem like a twenty degree uplift, but to you, it meant quite literally everything.

FREMINET — 菲米尼

nothing. no amount of experiences with his interactions with people could’ve prepared him for the absolute heart attack that was this gesture.

he loved it, too much. he wishes he could just dip back into the ocean depths. indulge in a meaningless conversation with the tidalga, or even express his feelings of adoration to you to pers. but currently, it was only you two sharing a humble moment together. no person he could lean in, no space he could rush the words he’d love to say to you in gratitude for the gift.

and you knew that. and that’s what he also loved about you. how willing you were to accept and love him even with him being less socially adept than a coral reef. feeling the cool and vibrant coloured bracelet tilt around his wrist and knot in place, he smiled wobbly.

between the silence, you knew that the quiet smile and nod meant more than his stammered and hushed words could ever express. leaning in to press a kiss to the side of his wrist and cheek, freminet manages to gulp a bit of courage and swallow his static and tingly anxiety, reaching to kiss your forehead. letting his lips linger momentarily before he backed away. “thank you…”

FURINA — 芙宁娜

heartbeat pounding in her ears. eyes narrowing into puffy circles. her bottom lip bitten brutally by her gnashing teeth. hands shaky, making her teacup tremble within her grip. why were you glaring at her so intensely?!

first the invitation for a tea party with only you two as the special guests. second the ominous letter claiming you two “need to talk.” and now, you were completely quiet and calmly snacking, drinking away several blends of tea without a word! it was absolutely ridiculous to think the one person she has entrusted her still mending heart with is ignoring all the clear signs of hesitance and vulnerabilities within the relationship despite them all being initiated by them!

“so, furina.” you clasp your hands together, an impish look transforming your usually peaceful face. her heartbeat stammers as her eyes meet yours in a tender glance. “uhm..yeah?” furina attempts to appear more courageous than she is, but truly, she’s shitting it (for lack of a better term).

the silence stretched on for too long before you giggled and pulled up a blue and white toned bracelet from your sleeves, shaking it with your fingertips with a kind smile. “i made you a friendship bracelet!”

a ghost wavered out of her frightened soul, the tea in her hand put down at this point so she can savour the comforting feeling of her head in her hands. being a gorgeous, shining star in the spotlight of fontaine’s grand stage, furina isn’t a secondhand stranger to gifts. whether they’ve been given to her personally, awkwardly, silently, with no words signed or a creepy letter attached expressing their reverence.

she wishes you’d sometimes go that route instead of matching her in these theatrics! begrudgingly, despite the little flutter in her heart, she slipped the bracelet onto her wrist and looked at you with a pout that you couldn’t help but lean in to kiss.

NEUVILLETTE — 那维莱特

neuvillette hums a tune along to the orchestra of the vinyl. an accompanying sound of his pen hastily itching onto the paper adding to the rhythm. his door opens and while he’d normally remain quietly focused on his piling paperwork, he recognised this particular patter of footsteps coming towards him. you.

smiling habitually and peering his head up, neuvillette greeted you lovingly. “hello, my love. what brings you here today? did you get in trouble?” he knew the reason you’d come ushering into his office was hardly with the intention of getting him to aid you with your troublesome quarrels, but rather, you just wanting his love and affection that he was more than willing to fulfil. if time allowed, of course.

“no, no. nothing like that, yet…” you grinned and neuvillette looked at you with a playful look of disappointment at the hesitance. “i made you a gift!” with a prideful aura that was less arrogance and more pure joy, you presented the bracelet to him. he wasted no time in stirring the small bundle of fabric and beads with his gloves. “look,” you pointed eagerly, “i even managed to commission some furina and melusine charms! you know how we always joke about them being like our children? i thought i’d be a cute addition!”

he exhaled a satisfactory laugh in agreement, interlocking your hand in his to press a kiss to your knuckles in thanks. “cute, indeed. thank you, mon chéri. you’re too sweet sometimes.” you sit on the edge of his desk, watching excitedly as he places the bracelet onto his wrist. “as a gift in return, after i’m done with work, how about we take a nice stroll together? i assure you, no rain will interrupt our serenity so long as you’re by my side.”

NAVIA — 娜维娅

immediately gushes at you as your palm opens to present the gold and blue hued bracelet to her, adorned with rose charms that you personally painted in gold and a greyish blue to accentuate her outfit if she decides to wear it. it was less a decision and more a necessity.

she delicately handled the bracelet onto her wrist and kissed both of your cheeks in gratitude, “thank you so much, sweetheart! this is so cute…but what’s the occasion? it’s not our anniversary or anything like that.” navia smiled at you, playing with some of the little roses and twirling them around in appreciation.

“it’s a friendship bracelet!”

her lips pucker into a pout as she starts to coddle you within her arms, occasionally swinging you around gently. “you’re so absolutely adorable!” she nips at your earlobe, kissing it as a form of apology. “but honey, you do know we aren’t just friends right?” navia captures your cheeks within her palms. “we’re lovers!” she presses several kisses across your face, ending her affectionate spillage with a press of her lips on yours.

“oops— haha, sorry i got lipstick all over you, darling.” navia chuckled and began wiping away all the lipstick smudges from your pretty face. yet her attempts bore no fruit. instead of wiping away anything, she only made it oh so much worse. “ah well, guess we both got presents from one another today?” she snickers, twirling her wrist to show off the bracelet with a wink.

GA MING — 嘉明

if you thought this man’s eyes couldn’t get any brighter, then you’re absolutely dead wrong. if you thought he could jump high while lion dancing, you’re also absolutely dead wrong!

he could outrun god right now. if you asked him to defeat a hoard of lined up mondstadt and liyue treasure hoarders, he’d do it in a heartbeat. what possessed you to be so cute?! do you seriously think he can take another heart attack like this after the one he had during lantern rite?

you aren’t able to say much or even explain your reasons for as to why you decided to make this nor what it even is or represents before ga ming smacks his lips messily all over your face. a mixture of your own gloss from kissing you earlier and his own saliva stick to your skin sloppily and you can’t help but feel both enamoured and grossly repulsed at the mixture of sticky wetness on your cheeks as well as the love that seemed to glow like fireworks.

“mmuah~! i love you so much…are you trying to make me cry?” he pouts, becoming a giggling mess as soon as you roll your eyes at his dramatics.

he keeps the bracelet on every day. sometimes he’ll be pouty all day if he’s unable to wear it in fear of it snapping and wasting away all your precious hard work due to either his negligence or the pains of manual labour…he’ll have to cope with simply glancing at the red imprints the beads had left intended onto his skin for satisfaction.

CHIORI — 千织

“what is this?” she jingles the vivid and strong orange coloured bracelet in front of her face, appreciating the tiny details of the cute sewing equipment charms and what looked to be handmade porcelain bows embedded onto some beads.

“it’s a friendship bracelet!” you gleam at her, pride evident in your face at your creation. she hums in agreement; it was certainly something alright.

“oh. cute.” that’s all the genuine feedback she could give you without mentioning how tacky it would look with her attire — it was an affectionate gesture, one which she didn’t want to undermine and therefore, with little complaint despite her own personal conflicts, she slipped the bracelet onto her wrist, extending her hand out and twirling it to admire the craftsmanship.

you won’t see her actively wearing it out in every day life, perhaps you’ll manage to sneak a glimpse of her playing with the beads while she’s going over some designs in her sketchbook but otherwise, her gloved hands contain nothing but the smell of perfume.

not that she’d admit it outright until you asked, but the real reason she refuses to wear your bracelet daily is for a simple reason; she doesn’t want it to break in order to have that constant reminder of you as she goes to bed and stares up at her ceiling with the bracelet being coddled between her fingertips.

ARLECCHINO — 阿蕾奇诺

“you’re so childish.” she muses, tracing her nails across the beads, eliciting a weird clacking sound as the charms and beads hit against each other. “but i suppose that’s also an alluring aspect to you.” she ushers the bracelet onto her wrist. despite it being completely covered, there was something even more intimate about her gift being a part of a hidden identity for her; your affection only intended for your gorgeous eyes and her narrowed ones.

tilting your head to her eye-level, you can smell her musky perfume. she leaned in for a kiss. her lips tasting like flavoured gloss consisting of all sorts of red berries, an accurate mirror to the rosey colour of her bright lips. a sneaky hand traced circles around your hips and waist as she attempted to take your breath away. a scythe is a befitting weapon for a woman who’s kiss was practically a notion for death.

she’s used to her children offering gifts and trinkets to her. rocks, random jewellery they crafted with glue, messy crayon drawings, sometimes even in the most macabre scenarios, blood itself. each of those, however, she cherished wholeheartedly. the same way she’d cherish the bond between you two that she’d never allow for anyone to break.

so long as she continuously receives silly gestures like this, she’s convinced she’ll be able to hold you within her embrace with very little effort.

©STARYUEE do not copy, steal or repost ♡ ᴜsᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ɪʜᴇᴀʀᴛɢᴀɴʏᴜ

[peachesofteal]

Light On - single mom/neighbors fic Simon Riley/female reader

You're early.

Your little knock on the door sends him into a spiral of panic, brain splitting in half, trying to figure out if he can hide his mortifying failure from you and still save dinner.

You knock again.

"Hey, sorry, I know we're early but-" You peel off with a sniff, nose wrinkling slightly, lips tucking together. You're wearing a lip stick, or a lip gloss, or something? And your hair is done. "Is something burning?"

"No!" He blurts. "No, uh. I'm just... cooking. Come in, come in."

He did actually, burn dinner. He burnt it so bad he had to order delivery, Thai on the fly, much to your excitement, and he files the knowledge of one of your favorite foods away for the future. The two of you eat together, little bits and pieces being given to Emmaline from your finger, and by the time you're finished, he's nearly worked up the nerve to start talking.

"So..." your voice trails, awkwardly, and you glance at him before looking away, finding a spot on the wall to study. Here goes nothing.

"I ah, wanted to explain, my behavior... from the other night." He starts, rubbing the nape of his neck. You watch him expectantly, Emmaline on your lap, and when he falters, you give him an encouraging nod.

"I'm listening."

"How I reacted, how I spoke to you was... unfair. It was cruel and I never want to make you upset, like that." You nod. "What I do- my job- it's... it can be dangerous. Stressful. Our last mission was difficult and I... operate in a different headspace at work. It's what keeps me alive. Makes me good at what I do." Skip the killing part, LT, Soap's voice reminds him, and he pushes on. "I was still decompressing, when you came to the door and I didn't want you to see me... like that."

"With your war paint." You quip, and he pauses, head cocked. "You had black stuff, around your eyes?"

"Yes, with my war paint. I didn't want you to..." He loses it for a second, flailing in the wind, mind scrambling as he tries to put the words together. Just say it. Tell the truth. "I didn't want you to be afraid of me. I don't think I could stand it. It's no excuse but, I guess, I thought you deserved an explanation."

"You're right." You say slowly. "It's not an excuse." You sigh, twirling a fork through the last of your noodles. "I'm not mad at you, not anymore. I just... it's hard you know. To put yourself out there, when you're a single mom. And a widow. I thought, maybe... you didn't-"

"I do." He cuts you off. "I... you and Emmaline, you're the best things that have happened in a long time. I-"

"Oh my god!" you gasp, and he instinctually startles, muscles going stiff as he surveys the flat.

"What?"

"It's snowing! Sorry, just uh..." You're already standing, hand half reaching towards him, excited smile on your face. "Emmaline's never seen snow before, can we... this is her first winter." You explain, and then move towards the balcony, fidgeting with his door lock, huffing in frustration when you can't figure it out.

"I got it." He says, not mentioning that it's custom, and slides it free, pushing the door wide so you can go outside. You're vibrating with joy, smile wide and big, and even Emmaline feels it, watching her mum, little face lit up the same as yours.

"Look, baby. Look!" You point, and then cup your palm, letting fat white flakes fall into your hand, tilting to show Emma, and she cackles with excitement, pudgy hand slapping against yours, bringing the melting snow to her mouth. You laugh with her, staring back up at the sky before glancing over to where he stands in the doorway, enraptured. The snow is caught in your hair, on your nose, in your eyelashes, the same as the baby, both of you glowing on his fucking balcony like angels on earth, sent to him from someone up there who might love him.

"Thanks, mum." he whispers to himself, to her, ducking inside to grab the blanket from the couch so he can wrap the two of you up in it to keep you at least a little warm and protected from the elements. "I wish you could have met them."

When he reappears, you're still catching flakes, this time with your tongue, hardly paying attention until he's settling the blanket on your shoulders and stepping back to watch, content to try to memorize every single second.

"Come here." You call, extending a hand, wiggling your fingers. "Try to catch one on your tongue." But he can't move.... he's too stunned, standing there before you, staring, and it gives you pause. "Simon." You whisper, head tipped back. The balcony lamp reflects in your eyes, snowflakes and yellow shine glowing back at him, the entire world lit up inside them, and his hand finds your cheek, cupping it with his bare palm, thumb stroking across the velvet that is your skin.

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart. So, so sorry." His voice sounds thick, fractured, and you smile, leaning into him, Emmaline's warm weight between your bodies.

"I know... I... I understand now." You look away, for a second, taking a deep breath before blinking rapidly, tears just barely there on your waterline. "I can't... losing Emma's dad, before she was even born I- I can't... I don't want to go through anything like that again, Simon. I'm scared." It's a confession, horrifying and real, terrified and heartbreaking. All he can do is tell you the truth. Tell you what he feels. What he knows.

"You don't have to be scared." He murmurs, low and soft, other hand coming to gently support Emmaline's back. "Not with me. I promise you." What is he doing, what is he doing, what is he- what is he promising? To live forever? To never hurt you? To never let either of you be hurt? To claw his way back to you, even in death?

He looks down at you, at Emma, and the world freezes. He sees everything so clearly, the image of his future, of yours- a little house with a yard, another baby. Emmaline a big sister, so proud and excited. All of you tucked away somewhere secret and safe.

He takes a deep breath, exhale crystalizing in the air, water vapor falling like a halo around you, and his confession comes unbidden, so easily given to you. "I want to kiss you."

"Okay." You answer, and then he moves, closing the gap, slowly pressing his lips to the warmth of yours, blood pooling beneath his skin, heat flowing between your bodies. You taste like heaven, mouth sweet and easy for him, parting with a tiny gasp, and it overpowers him to the point where he thinks his knees might give out. He can't help but hold your closer, arm tightening around your back, finger stroking down the length of your spine-

Emma cries. It's not really a cry, more like a little shout, and you pull away abruptly, giggly expression on your face.

"What's wrong baby girl." He hums, patting her back, tucking the blanket tighter around your arm and her body.

"I think she's upset she's going to have to share you. You're her favorite nowadays, you know." You tease, and his grin is so heavy on his face, but so light at the same time, something completely foreign and wild, the breadth of happiness something he hasn't felt in so many years. "And she's probably cold."

"Should we go inside?" He motions, somewhat relieved to get both of you out of the cold, and when you nod, you take his hand, intertwining your fingers with his, squeezing gently.

"We should."

[mariasont]

What if I put an insane little idea in your head and let it bounce around? Mid seasons (7/8 ish?) Spencer with a kinnda sorta fangirl? She just started at the BAU and it’s not that she’s weird about him but she does have like 3 of his papers memorized down to the letter and she “possibly quoted him on her college application essay” (it’s the literal conclusion).

Like she’s just this little ball of excitement and he has no clue what to do when the team is like “ask her out for the love of god and stop making heart eyes when she lets you nerd out”

Sorry if this makes no sense it’s 2:30 in the morning

FANGIRL - S.R

a/n: AHHHHH BECAUSE WHAT IF I JUST SMOOCHED YOU

loved, loved, LOVED this idea and writing it! you are amazing <3

masterlist

pairings: spencer reid x fem!reader

warnings: reader being a fangirl for reid because WHO WOULDNT BE UGH

wc: 1.2k

"Dr. Reid, hi, it's such an honor. I'm the new agent."

You give him your name, hand extended out to him, bouncing off the balls of your feet. There was a badge pinned to your shirt, the clip attached to it gleaming in the fluorescent light, which despite its usual severity, seemed to soften around you.

Spencer comes to a standstill, his coffee suspended mid-sip, documents wrinkled in his hands as he assesses you. You are pretty. exceedingly so, but he's having trouble processing it, his mind still shrouded in the remnants of sleep. 

He blinks away his surprise. "Nice to meet you. Hotch must've briefed you about the team, I assume?"

He adjusted the heap of papers to under his arm, freeing his hand to meet yours. The softness he encountered prompted a momentary pause, awakening a sudden urge to not let go. However, he promptly set aside the thought, releasing your hand with a concealed hesitation. 

You fiddled with your earlobe, you shot him a sheepish smile. "Yeah, Hotch did, but I already knew a bit about you. I've always been a fan of your work. I mean, not like a fan per se, because that would be weird, right? But I've read all your papers, and they're just... they're brilliant, honestly."

Spencer was clearly caught off guard, his brows leaping upwards as he surveyed you. You weren't lying--that much was clear to him. He could see it in the way you met his eyes with an enthusiasm so bright it was nearly blinding.

"My work? You're actually familiar with it?"

A soft giggle bubbled from you, a sweet sound that seemed to momentarily leave him winded. He placed his coffee on the desk, leaning back slightly. 

"Oh, definitely. Your research on chemical composition analysis in narcotics? I've read it so many times I could probably recite it in my sleep."

He considered the possibility of you exaggerating. He took great pride in his work and (without sounding too cocky) he was well aware of its significance and contribution to his field. However, there's a difference between knowing your work is recognized and encountering someone who has internalized it to such a degree--especially someone like you. He suddenly felt a touch of self-consciousness.

"I'm sorry, that was too much, right? I promised I'd play it cool, and then I saw you and... well, it's all just really surreal," you said before gesturing vaguely towards the bullpen. "Anyway, I'm going to go, uh, find my desk."

You hurried away before he could refute your words, head bowed. He felt like an ass.

The day threw him off balance. His contributions to the team lacked their usual insight, his mental gears turning more slowly. And for some inexplicable reason, he found himself preoccupied with thoughts of you. He attempted to rationalize it as a reaction to your interest in his work, a level of admiration that was a rare find. Unlike the formal niceties from others, your excitement about his work, about him, stood out.

He tried to latch onto Hotch's deductions about the unsub, willing his intellect to snap to attention and offer up a decent theory. However, a glance in your direction derailed his efforts. You were bent over the desk, your hands animatedly navigating through the papers. He was happy to see your enthusiasm was there despite his lack thereof earlier.

"Based on the geographic profiling and the choice of victims, it looks like the unsub has a background in urban planning."

Emily nods, "Good theory. What led you to that?"

He watches the anxious flicker in your eyes, glancing towards him, hands clasped together as you incline your head his way.

"Actually, I read about a similar case in Dr. Reid's paper on The Spatial Patterns of Serial Offenses." It strikes him then--he hasn't yet invited you to use his first name, adding another tick to the ever-growing list of ways he feels he's been inadvertently discourteous. "The clustering of crime scenes near arterial routes suggests the offender leverages the urban grid to facilitate escape and avoid detection. Embarrassingly enough, that was the topic of my college application essay."

Spencer was momentarily speechless (not something that happened often), his mind racing through the physiological response to shock--catecholamine release, vagal tone alterations, even transient arrhythmias--mirroring the way his heart seemed to skip a beat. You really did have his work memorized.

"That's, uh, right," he said, his voice gaining momentum. "By leveraging the urban grid, the offender not only evades capture but also creates a psychological terrain of control."

Hotch nodded in agreement, turning your attention to a series of photographs.

Before Spencer even looked her way, he could sense Garcia's stare, and as he turned, she prodded him with her elbow, smirking. "Seems like she's quite the match for you, doesn't she?"

"Huh? What? No, I mean--she's my coworker, and besides, she's much younger." Spencer was quite sure he sounded anything but convincing.

Garcia raises an eyebrow, shaking her head. "I meant in terms of smarts, but oookay, Spencer."

She walked out with a bounce in that definitely hadn't been there earlier, and Spencer was left with a red face.

He had every intention of pulling you aside, to apologize for earlier, to reassure that he didn't find you odd or weird, and to admit that he was genuinely flattered. But it appeared that every time he had a chance to make it to your desk, you had vanished, or were in deep conversation with JJ, or inside Hotch's office.

It was a relentless cycle that persisted until the end of the day, when everyone began to leave--except for you, who remained still firmly planted at your desk, fervently jotting notes into your notebook.

Absorbed in your work, you didn't notice his approach until he cleared his throat.

"Hey," he said softly.

Startled, you flinched, prompting him to immediately feel like shit. Strike three. You laughed off the shock when you realized it was him, moving your notebook aside, offering him your undivided attention.

"Sorry, Dr. Reid, hi! How's it going? Is there something I can do for you?"

"I thought I'd see if you needed help with anything, and you can call me Spencer, if you want." He glanced at his watch. "Are you still working?"

You pushed a piece of hair from your face and nodded towards the formidable pile of forms. 

"Spencer, okay," you said, like you were testing it out, "and just sorting through a mountain of onboarding paperwork."

He nodded, hesitating slightly before speaking. "Listen, I need to apologize for earlier."

You tilted your head. "What for?"

"I think I wasn't as welcoming as I intended to be."

"That's okay, I know I was a bit intense."

He shook his head. "No, you weren't. It's just... It's rare that my work gets much attention. I'm happy you appreciated it. If there's a specific topic that you're more interested in, maybe I could explain more about it sometime?"

You glanced down at your hands, trying to hide the smile that was blooming there. You weren't successful. When you looked back up, Spencer felt a little bit awestruck by your eyes, the flecks of color that he could now see clearly.

"I'd love that. Maybe over coffee?" you suggested.

"Yeah, sure." He could feel the heat rushing up his neck. 

He reluctantly parted ways, leaving you to your paperwork, and as he approached the elevator, Penelope was there.

"You know, sugar, maybe I did mean quite the match in a romantic way. So, are you going to ask her out, or shall I play Cupid?"

He blushed. "I think she might have just beat me to it."

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna @readergf @sarcasm-and-stiles @edencherries @aurorsworld @princess76179 @malindacath @freyy253 @broadwaytraaaaash @r-3dlips @m-indkiller @sunfyyre @sleepysongbirdsings @trulycayla @reiderrambles

join my taglist here!

[shrenvents]

Hi love, you have an amazing imagination, and I love your writing style. I was wondering if you could maybe do some more with Wolverine. I'm in that x men stage again. And I loved you last piece of work on him. Maybe you could do a continuation of it or think of something completely new. Anyway, dont feel pressured ❤️

A/N: ur actually so sweet, thank uu! I'm also rlly shocked but appreciative of all the love Professor Howlett received, so u don't even have to ask twice for more, it's my pleasure ;)

Divided Attention

Professor Howlett II

Part one

Warnings: minors dni, Smut, fluff, language, jealousy, (legal) age gap, oral, f!receiving, semi-public

Pairing: Logan x Student (Mutant) reader

Summary: Things were going well with you and Logan, until he suddenly put distance between you both, acting strangely. On top of that, you catch him threatening one of your fellow classmates and have no choice, but to face your issues, head-on.

Word count: 2.6k

…

Any small moment together, Logan and I chased. The little highs we could derive from our busy schedules, we eagerly pursued.

From a quickie in the janitor's closet, a make-out session after class, or a passionate sleepover, Logan consumed every inch of my life. He was consuming every bit of my mind, and an ominous trepidation was closing in, alongside him.

The more I saw him, the greedier I became. Desperate to see and feel more of him, beyond the surface. So, it was no surprise, that I soon desired something more from our casual relationship.

With graduation just around the corner, I was almost home free. Free to outwardly tell him what I yearned for.

But the concern that racked my brain constantly, that trepidation, was whether he wanted the same.

As I was getting to know him, it was clear there were parts of him I had yet to discover, parts he seemed reluctant to reveal. Sometimes he would be open, close by my side. The next second, he would shut down.

What made matters worse, was that recently, he hadn't sought me out. It's felt as though he's no longer hungry for those small moments, that I still very much craved.

Now I'm on edge and have no clue what he's thinking, or what he thinks of us.

...

The day started like any other. I went to each class, exhausted and disinterested, till that afternoon. Something caught my eye, and the eyes of the school's populace: Logan pinning a male student to the wall of the vast, oak wood hallway.

They speak in hushed tones to one another, and the boy looks beyond frightened, while Logan looks ready to tear his head from his scrawny neck.

It takes only a moment for my alarm to pass, and for me to note, that this boy sits next to me in history.

A sharp intake of breath hitches in my throat.

His name's Mikey, and he has been a nuisance to Logan from the get-go, long before our intimate affair. Labelled as the class clown, Mikey uses his obnoxious voice and meddling powers to disturb Logan's lessons, daily. To top it off, Mikey consistently bothers me, mimicking what I say, and staring at my profile, for far too long.

Just when Logan dips his head closer to Mikey, perhaps to rip out his jugular, like the predator he is, Scott interjects.

"Logan! Drop him!" When Scott's unnerved voice orders Logan, my eyes snap to Mikey's feet, which are spraddled in the air, dangling for dear life.

I guess a few days apart made me forget just how strong he is. Maybe he's just too gentle with me to remember.

As his feet slowly lower to the floor, gasps and murmurs flood the halls, and my head frantically shoots around, surprised by the crowd of avid onlookers.

Eyes anxiously surveying the students, I hone in on Logan again, flinching when seeing his pupils, already fixed on me.

He releases Mikey immediately, retracting from him while Scott grabs his bicep, heatedly whispering into his ear, and Mikey scrambles away.

Logan's eyes shy from mine and my mouth gaps. He almost looks, embarrassed. 'Huh?'

Soon, other teachers arrive to intervene, shooing students from the crime scene.

So, aimlessly wandering outside, into the courtyard, hoping to clear my head, I think back on our classes together. Every time Mikey acted up, Logan seemingly couldn’t care less, looking more spent overall, than unsettled by his brazen jokes.

It was kind of funny, seeing Mikey quaking in his boots at the older male. It was only yesterday, that he spoke to me with such forwardness, and to Logan with such rudeness, carrying that typical smug expression -it was nice to see it wiped clean.

I laugh to myself, disbelieving what just transpired. I can only imagine what errand Professor Xavier will make Logan do to atone, or what bonding exercise he and Mikey may perform...

While I trudge down the stone steps, onto the vivid green field, I spot the devil himself, Mikey. He sits under the shade of a grand willow tree, dome hung between his bent knees.

Feeling rather empathetic, I stroll towards him, stopping in front of his feet. Evidently noticing my bright attire, his head pops up, and his dewy eyes widen.

"You alright?" I ask warily and his bottom lip trembles. He sniffs once, toughening up before responding, "I'm good." I nod, then look at the endless landscape to my right. "Whatever you did must've really been something, Mr. Howlett's rarely that peeved."

"You're telling me," he huffs sarcastically, sounding pained. Shifting, I sit beside him, maintaining some space. "If you don't mind me asking, what was that about?" Mikey pauses, thinking hard.

"No clue," he mumbles pitifully. I gawk at him, brows creasing. He peers at me and copies my appearance. "I'm not lying," he exclaims defensively. "There's no way," I retort, scoffing.

"If you don't fucking believe me, why ask," Mikey spits, mumbling "bitch" as he shoots to stomp off.

Suspiring, my crown gingerly falls onto the tree's trunk. Finding comfort in its rugged bark, I calmly savour the crisp air.

I close my eyes, for what feels like a few minutes until a fierce call of my name grips my consciousness. Eyelids cracking open, my vision focuses on Mr. Howlett himself, standing in all his glory, glaring down at me with a brooding look.

"If it isn't the man of the hour," I giggle humourlessly, straightening my spine, but choosing not to stand and seem intimidated, like he evidently wishes me to be.

"You have a nice chat?" Logan questions with an irked tone, obviously remarking on my 'chat' with Mikey. 'Was he watching us?'

I tilt my head defiantly. "I'm not picking sides," I raise both hands in surrender, smiling from ear to ear. His eye faintly twitches, and I nearly gulp. He grumbles incomprehensible nonsense, then chooses to stay relatively quiet, which is unlike him.

"Do you have something to say? Or are you just gonna stand there?" I inquire venomously.

Clearly dispising my attitude, he concentrates on my face, scowling. His features have rage written all over them, but I refuse to bow out of this impending feud.

He grumbles under his breath again, and I break.

"Speak up!" I shout, swiftly bringing my gaze to our surroundings, making sure we're alone -which is something Logan clearly isn't worried about.

"What the fuck do you two have to talk about?" He just about growls and I tense, stunned. My face contorts with perplexity. "Me and Mikey?" I question, and his eyebrows nearly conjoin in response. "Not much, just discussing you're outburst," heaving, I continue, "though he didn't have much to say on the topic," sighing, "you?"

His nostrils flare slightly, and I do my best to appear composed. "What else have you talked about?" He grunts, and I roll my eyes, rising to my feet, bored with our conversation. "What's it to you?" I ask rhetorically, internally referring to the distance he'd been building between us.

Moving elsewhere, I roughly brush past his shoulder. He doesn't immediately reply, but trails after me as I march further into the courtyard.

"The fuck you on about?" Logan vulgarly rumbles, and I forget to speak.

My pace then staggers when he delicately wraps his digits over my forearm, tugging me, almost cautiously, backward.

Square to him, I discern his thumb tracing my skin lightly, before finally looking at him. He examines his finger as it sweeps across my flesh. "Logan?" I carefully utter, and his eyes stay glued to where our bodies meet.

"Why do you talk to him," he pauses, snarling with emphasis on 'talk,' yet again. Then he murmurs, "-When you have me?" He’s so quiet, that the words are barely audible. My features instantly soften. “Are you,” I hesitate, “Jealous?”

When he doesn’t answer, I gasp so loud, that my palm slaps over my mouth. He looks around, avoiding eye contact as I grasp the situation. “Did you threaten Mikey 'cause he yaps to me in class?”

Logan scorned the very idea of jealousy, cruising his head in a circle, to showcase his exasperation. I smirk uncontrollably and he snits. "Don't flatter yourself Princess," he remarks blatantly. My smirk only expands. "I can't believe you," I laugh hysterically and he motions like he's going to walk away, but he stays put, and I know I've won.

"Don't pull that face," he complains, gesturing to my proud look.

"What face?" I ask, playing naive, faintly swinging my body side to side. "Just stop talking to him, he's a bad influence," he grunts, peering off to the horizon. I giggle, "Or what? Do you intend to beat every boy who speaks to me?" I counter, and he struggles to fight a smile.

"What if I do," Logan more or less declares.

Shaking my head, "You've got some nerve," I huff, "seeing as you've been avoiding me lately."

"I haven't been avoiding you-"

I interrupt, "Oh yes, you have," playfully punching his gut with a grin, which drops the second my knuckles practically grow a heartbeat. "Ow," I breathe and at last, he laughs.

When Logan's laugh dims, he looks almost sullen. "Didn't think you'd notice," he mumbles and I quirk my chin in confusion. "You seem preoccupied." Gapping at him once more, he rolls his eyes, showing his teeth. "Don't gimme that damn look girl," he heaves, "you're young and, and-"

"And what?"

"Attractive," he sighs heavily, "you don't need an old man weighing you down."

I still, catching his genuine displeasure and defeat. It's like he's disappointed I may seek romance from someone else, but accepts it regardless, for my sake, my happiness.

My heart thumps irregularly and I feel like jumping his bones. I release a lengthy sigh, with a smile twinkling. His brow rises questioningly, seeming anxious about a reaction to his masked insecurity.

"What?" He bites.

"I'm relieved," his confusion visibly progresses. "I thought you were tired of me." As his mouth opens, to probably insult my intelligence, I cut in. "I wanna go steady with you, if that wasn't obvious already." My smile grows sheepish, then taunting, "I like you Lo, and clearly you must love me."

Like he's been holding his breath, a loud puff of air escapes his chapped lips, and I shamelessly watch as he wets them.

"You've gotta be the strangest girl I've ever met," he utters with a smirk forming, and I return one, interpreting his words as a declaration of love.

"Woman," I correct, then babble jokingly, "refined Lady." He confidently strides closer. "Mistress-"

The air leaves my lungs as his solid arms devour me, squeezing tightly.

"You best realize what you're committing to," Logan comments, lightly lifting strands of my hair with his fingertips, to kiss my neck. "That means, no more talking to boys," he grunts, humour coaxing his tone. "Especially ones so far out of your league," he pulls his head back, to peer at my expectant face, "It's not even funny," he finishes with a grin.

I laugh, unable to contain my joy, quickly hiding my wild smile in his chest. A pleased hum rumbles in tune with his heavy breathing, and I listen to his heartbeat's fairly, rapid pace.

For a while, we stay present in each other's arms, with fulfillment and ease consuming our beings, synchronously. Logan's fingers drift across my lower back, leisurely tracing my curves.

"I like you, so much," I whisper airly because the words couldn't be repressed, and had escaped. His hands gradually slow to a halt, till he abruptly draws back. He looks at me, with such intense seriousness, that I shudder.

Then, he pulls away entirely, taking my hand in his larger one, to drag me deeper into the field -into the overgrown areas, looted with massive trees and bushes.

"Logan?" My whisper transforms into a squeak when I'm hauled behind various, untrimmed hedges. His palms grope my hips, stilling me before he drops to his knees. I ogle his smug face as it bores into me, before he wrestles with my pink, low-waisted, jean shorts, impatiently dragging them down my plump thighs. He mumbles, "Ridiculous" when his eyeline levels with my purple, close-to-sheer underwear.

Like my shorts, he yanks them down to my ankles, then swiftly encloses his mouth over my cunt, swiping the folds with his tongue. I throw the back of my hand over my incoming yelp, biting down to muffle it.

"Is this you tryna to deflect admitting you really like me?" I joke meekly as my mouth parts from my hand, but I quickly chomp down again, when he licks me, with a long flick of his tongue. I gasp and whimper, using my spare hand to claw at his scalp for leverage, as he hungrily laps my pussy, sucking on its nub.

A tremor racks my insides, eliciting spasms while he builds up a powerful, but excruciatingly relaxed pace. His bulky digits move to relentlessly rub my clit, applying a rhythmic pressure that makes me sob.

Logan shushes me, mouth still buried in my folds. The buzz of his voice sends shivers through my core, and the strength of his action grows, acknowledging my imminent finish.

“Eyes on me,” Logan basically growls, before diving back into my cunt.

I muffle a cry of his name with a fist now, biting my knuckles. Then, I look from the heavens, back down to the one hand I still have, clenching his silky locks.

My knees begin to buckle and his sizeable palms relocate to support my hips, with his fingertips bordering my ass, kneading it. "I'm close," I gasp, barely audible through my hand. He hums again, and when it elicits another shiver, and shake of my frame, I tumble over his back, wrecked by my climax.

Now hunched over him, with my hands splayed down his torso, I tremble furiously, coming down from my high. I can't help but whine when Logan continuously licks me. He tastes every inch of me like I'm the meal of a lifetime, like I'm oxygen itself.

"Enough," I choke, as my arousal becomes too much. His response is simply plunging further into me, to lick all the way from my ass, to clit.

Steam floods my stomach, lighting me on fire. A raging flame consumes my very being, and I relish in how dirty and dangerous this encounter is -in public on his knees for me, Logan made it known that I'm his, and he let me know, that he couldn't care less who heard us, because I was his.

"You're disturbed," I breathe, and his chuckle resonates louder when he separates from my damp skin. "You love it," he states with a smirk and an arch of his brow. He then runs his tongue over his soaked lips, and I bite back a groan, sighing, "I do."

Lifting, moving my palms to his shoulders, I capture his top lip, sucking on it as a thank you. I grin, and as if he can hear my jest coming from a mile away, he scoffs and turns to hide his smirk.

"And you must lovveee me," I repeat my earlier comment with even more enthusiasm, and he shakes his head.

He rises and I do the same. Logan then goes in for a kiss to shut me up, but just as he does, I catch his mumble of "I do."

I gasp into his mouth, eyelids stretching.

My lids briskly flutter shut when he deepens the kiss, dipping my figure, rather romantically, and we both smile.

[queenshelby]

Siblings (Part One)

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Half!Sister

Warning: Incest

It was around 10'clock at night when you heard a quiet knock on the door.  You couldn't help but feel a little surprised—and a bit nervous. You had never had a visitor this late before as usually your siblings were out, getting themselves into trouble, and your Aunt Polly, who had taken it upon herself to look after everyone, was in bed.

Your sister Ada, with whom you shared a room, had sneaked out earlier to see her boyfriend Freddy, so it was just you that night, alone in your small room, lying on your single bed, wearing a nightgown and reading a book. 

"Who is it?" you called out, your heart skipping a beat.

"It's Thomas," came the reply. His voice was quiet and calm. 

You hesitated for a moment, wondering if you should let him in that late at night. He had just come back from the war a few weeks ago and his demure had changed towards you. It was almost like he had become obsessed with you, wanting to keep you company more often than you were used to. 

Thomas was gone for five years and came back more handsome than ever.  He had a rugged jawline, and deep-set blue eyes. He wasn't tall, but well-built with a perfect gentleman's body.

The war had hardened him, made him stronger, but also wiser. He had seen the worst of humanity, and you could tell that it had affected him deeply. It was understandable; he had been through hell and back.

"May I come in?" Thomas eventually asked, his voice still composed.

Without saying a word, you stood up and covered yourself with a robe , before opening the door slowly.

The light from the hallway spilled into the room, illuminating Thomas's figure. He looked a bit tired, but his eyes were still bright and clear.

"Of course," you said finally, as you walked back to your bed and folded your book closed. 

"I have heard that there was trouble today, at the docks," Thomas  said as he sat down on the edge of your bed. He looked tired, but fatigue failed to sap the confidence and dominance from his demeanor.

You sighed and nodded. "Ada told me not to go there, but curiosity got the better of me Tommy," you admitted whereas, the truth was, that just recently you began to involve yourself with Isiah, another Peaky Blinder and your new-found love had gotten you into trouble. 

"Curiosity, eh?" Thomas chuckled, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Isiah wouldn't have anything to do with this curiosity now, would he?" he then asked, his eyes locked on yours.

You looked away, feeling a blush creeping up your cheeks. "He never meant for me to get involved, Tommy. It just kind of happened," you replied quietly, seeing how Isiah took risks and those risks involved you. 

"Listen Y/N, you are a fucking Shelby," Thomas said, his voice stern but not unkind. "And you need to be careful about who you associate with."

"But Isiah is your friend, is he not?" you asked, slightly confused with Thomas's sudden change of tone.

"Isiah works for me Love. That doesn't make him a friend," Tommy replied curtly, his gaze still fixed on you. "Despite, even if he was my friend, I wouldn't allow him to be involved with my fucking sister,"  Tommy added, the veneer of calmness cracking a bit.

You sat on the edge of the bed, feeling a knot forming in your stomach. The way things were going, it seemed as though you had made a mistake. With the tension in the room growing thicker by the second, you felt compelled to speak.

"Honestly, I don't even know why I got myself mixed up with him, Tommy," you admitted, shame coloring your voice. "I suppose I was bored," you added as an afterthought.

Thomas looked at you, his eyes narrowing as he surveyed your face. "You're better than that, Love," he finally said, his voice steady and firm. "And if boredom is what bothers you, then I am sure we can make arrangements for you to work at the betting house," he then told you a lot more gently than before, placing some stray hair behind your ear. 

"Aunt Pol won't allow it," you  said quietly, not because you didn't want to work there, but because you believed that your aunt would not approve of such an idea.

"It is not up to Pol," Thomas said shortly, his fingertips  tracing the curve of your cheek gently. "But out of curtesy, I will discuss it with her, alright?" he added after a short pause.

Before you could respond, Thomas's hand dropped from your face, and he stood up, his presence in the small room suddenly overwhelming.

"But Y/N, if you are going to continue seeing Isiah...," he began to say and you quickly interrupted him. 

"Not after today," you replied firmly. "Not after what happened at the docks. I promise," you added, reassuring your brother.

Thomas looked at you, relief visible in his eyes. "Good. I'll hold you to that Y/N," he said before leaning down to give you a peck on your forehead.

You blushed slightly, shocked by this sudden display of affection from your half-brother. But before you could react, Thomas walked out of your room, leaving you alone with your thoughts and, when you settled back on to your bed, you couldn't help but wonder what just happened. Thomas and you have always had a close relationship since him and Arthur had assumed responsibility for you after your father got arrested by the police, but you have never witnessed such a display of emotion from him before.

As you lay there in the dark, the silence was broken by the moonlight filtering through the blinds. The light cast a soothing glow on the room and made the floral quilt on the twin bed look more inviting. Your mind was abuzz with thoughts, each one trying to get a different message across. You tried to silence them and focus on the recent events.

This whole situation with Thomas, your curiosity, the sudden shift in your relationship - you knew that it was not something to take lightly. It felt different, and you could not ignore the strange tension that lingered between the two of you.

You sighed deeply and turned to face the window. It was then that you noticed the stars twinkling in the night sky ever so slightly. They were there, silent and unassuming, much like Thomas. You couldn't help but wonder what was going on in his mind.

Thomas had always been a mystery to you, even before he left for France, but now it felt like there was a whole other person behind the blue eyes that you had grown up with.

Days had passed and you indeed started working at the gambling den , which was located in the heart of Small Heath. It was a bustling place, and it was chaotic during peak hours, but you found joy in the chaos. Surprisingly, Aunt Polly did not seem to mind much; she knew that this was one of the ways to keep you out of trouble.

While you were working there, your brother Thomas kept a close eye on you and as different men attempted to flirt with you, they quickly learned that you were untouchable, a notion further solidified by Thomas’s warning glares.

On two occasions, he even threatened gamblers with a gun after you were propositioned for a date, and it was clear to you that he wasn’t playing around. Thomas Shelby never made idle threats, after all.

"You do realise that most of these men are harmless, Tommy,"  you said to Thomas one evening, after you had closed the betting shop for the night. The sky was a deep indigo and the stars were shining brightly.

Thomas looked at you, his eyes sharp and piercing. "That may be true, but you are my sister and they need to show you some fucking respect,"  he retorted, his voice steadier than before.

"But Tommy," you began, still unsure of what to make of this sudden outburst. "I am capable of handling my own affairs. I can fend them off," you assured your brother who appeared somewhat overprotective of you.

"I am sure you are," Thomas agreed, a hint of amusement in his voice. "But what kind of employer would I be if I did not at least protect my employees from unwanted advances, eh?" he asked, one corner of his mouth twitching upwards in a half-smile.

"A pretty shite one I suppose," you admitted, returning his half-smile with a lopsided grin as he locked the door.

"Exactly," he concurred, shaking his head as you stepped onto the sidewalk, right by your brother's side. "Now let me walk you home. It's late," Thomas said as he always did when you worked in his betting house until after dawn. 

As Thomas and you walked side by side, the silence between you was comfortable, but there was still something that kept niggling the back of your mind. You couldn't quite put your finger on it, but it seemed like Thomas was hiding something from you.

Nonetheless, as you walked to the house you shared with Polly, Tommy and the others, you couldn't help but steal glances at him, trying to gauge what it was that was causing this strange behavior lately.

It was like he took a liking in you that almost felt, more than brotherly, but you decided not to focus on the matter and instead enjoyed the warmth of his company while it lasted.

Days passed, and your routine at the gambling den turned into sort of a normality, despite the occasional tensions between patrons and your brother that threatened to boil over.

On evening, at your house when you and Tommy were on your own, you ought to address it, his overprotectiveness and  the strange tension that kept building between you.

But, Tommy simply brushed it off and told you that he was simply concerned for your safety.

"But I am safe here Tommy, with you and the others," you reminded him, your tone gentle yet firm. "And at the gambling house, even if some of the customers are inappropriate, it is a safe place because no one would dare to fuck with you, Arthur or John and  I think you know that," you said, unable to mask the frustration that crept into your voice.

Tommy looked down at you, his gaze intense but soft. He took a deep breath before speaking, as if choosing his words carefully.

"Y/N, I know that you can look after yourself but, what I have learned over the years, is that no one is safe. Not here, not anywhere," Thomas said, his voice still firm but softer than before.

You stared into Thomas's eyes, feeling a strange mix of emotions coursing through your veins. Awe, admiration, and... something more. Something you couldn't quite put your finger on yet.

"The war changed you, you know?"  you said the words before you could stop yourself. 

Thomas sighed and looked at you, his expression filled with a mix of sadness and guilt. "Yes, I know," he admitted quietly. "I can't help it, Y/N. I've seen and done things that most people couldn't even imagine." 

You nodded, understanding dawning on you.

"No, you are right Tommy. I can't imagine," you said softly, caressing the scar on his cheek, causing Tommy to lean in closer, his eyes locked on yours. 

You felt your heart race as you looked into Thomas's eyes. There was something about him that made you feel safe, yet also intensely aware of your feelings for him. You had never felt this way about anyone before.

"But you know what's amusing though?" you murmured, breaking the silence that had enveloped the room as Thomas leaned over some more, his fingers lightly traced your jawline, you couldn't help but play along. "You are so overprotective towards me when it comes to potential suitors and there is almost no reason for you to be that way, because I never even kissed a boy before, so it just seems so absurd to me," you continued, allowing yourself to drop your guard, just a little.

"I find that hard to believe, Y/N," Thomas murmured, the pad of his thumb brushing the corner of your lips before slowly moving to trace the length of your jawbone.

Your breath hitched in your chest, hearing his low voice uttering your real name; you always felt an odd sense of familiarity from him, especially when he chose to use your given name, just for a brief moment. It almost felt like the two of you were not step-siblings. 

"No, it's true. I never kissed a boy before, Tommy," you confessed, the words slipping out before you could stop them. You didn't know what had come over you, but suddenly, you couldn't help but feel drawn to your half-brother. "What is it like?" you

asked, your lips barely moving as Thomas continued to trace a path along your jawline.

"What's what like?" Thomas asked, his voice low and husky, as he leaned in even closer to you.

"Kissing," you clarified, a slight blush creeping up your cheeks as you admitted this.

Thomas seemed taken aback by the question, his gaze lingering briefly on your lips before meeting your eyes again.

"I guess it depends on who you are kissing," he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Sometimes, it's just a kiss and it feels like nothing because it means nothing. But other times, it's more than that. It can be a way to express your feelings for someone. To show them how much you care about them," Thomas explained, his gaze still locked on yours.

"Do you think you could show me?" you whispered, surprising yourself with your own boldness.

Thomas's eyes narrowed as he looked at you, taking in your flushed cheeks and the way your breathing had quickened.

"Seeing that you are my sister, that would be inappropriate, don't you think?"  Thomas said, a subtle hint of amusement in his voice. 

"It's just a kiss, Tommy," you replied, a nervous laugh escaping your lips. "And no one needs to know," you continued, your heart pounding in your chest as you confessed this vulnerable part of yourself to your brother.

Thomas looked at you, his eyes searching yours as he processed your words. You could see the wheels turning in his head, and for a moment, you wondered if he was going to tell you no . But then something shifted in his gaze, a heat that made your heart race.

"Alright. Fuck it," Thomas muttered, his hand reaching up to cup your cheek as he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours.

You gasped slightly, surprised by how sudden the kiss was and how soft and gentle his lips were.

Your  hands reached up to grip his arms, feeling the firm muscles beneath your fingertips as you leaned into the kiss. Thomas's other hand reached up to tangle in your hair, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss.

Not knowing what to do, you followed his lead and when he parted his lips, you did the same before tentatively touching your tongue to his, experimenting with the new sensation. 

Your brother's lips were warm and as the kiss deepened, you felt a fire ignite within you, spreading from your core to every inch of your body. Your heart was racing as Thomas's hand dropped down from your hair, tracing a path around your neck as he deepened the kiss once more before, suddenly,  he pulled away.

You stared at Thomas, your lips still tingling from the kiss. You could see a storm of emotions raging within his eyes, but you couldn't quite decipher what he was feeling. Was it guilt? Shock? Excitement? Pleasure?

"I am sorry Love, but I have business to attend to," he told you with a horse  voice, his breathing heavy and uneven from the kiss.

You nodded, trying to catch your breath as well. You could feel a blush spreading across your cheeks as you moved away from him, giving him some much-needed space. Thomas looked at you, his eyes heated with desire, before turning away and leaving the room without another word.

Even after he had left. a jolt of pleasurable heat still lingered on your lips where Thomas’s mouth had just been, you couldn’t believe what had just happened. Your stepbrother, fucking Thomas, he had just kissed you and you didn’t know if you should feel guilty about it or if you should be elated.

“You’re an idiot,” you muttered to yourself as you ran your fingers through your hair, still feeling dazed. Your mind was racing, replaying the image of Thomas kissing you, over and over again.

Your lips were still tingling from the contact, but the room felt cold and empty once he left, leaving you alone with your tumultuous thoughts.

You couldn't believe what had just happened. Thomas had kissed you. He fucking kissed you and you were the one that had asked him to do it. 

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[waitimcomingtoo]

The Script

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Synopsis: you and Peter break up once you find out his secret and he falls apart

Masterlist

“We broke up.”

The words fell out of Peter’s mouth as he pulled his mask from his tear stained face. Ned turned around in his desk chair and pulled his earbuds out of his ears.

“What? No way.” He laughed dismissively at the assumed joke until he noticed the red rim around Peter’s eyes.

“It’s true. She broke up with me. She doesn’t want to be with me anymore.” Peter repeated through a childlike cry.

“But I thought you had a date tonight? Did something happen?”

10 minutes earlier

“Peter?”

Peter froze in the alleyway and stopped looking for his backpack. He turned around slowly and saw you standing there under a harsh street light with his backpack in your arms. The webs he had shot on it to keep it secured against the wall were still hanging off.

“It’s you? You’re the Spiderman?” You asked in a voice barely above a whisper. You were looking at him with a mixture of betrayal and confusion as you clutched his backpack like you were a child with a teddy bear. Peter still had his mask on so he stayed dead silent.

“Say something.” You seethed, a newfound anger in your voice and eyes. Peter gulped and nodded his head, knowing there was no point in lying.

“I am.” He said, making your face crumble when you heard his voice. You held the backpack tighter and stared at him as your face crumbled.

“What are you doing out here? Did you follow me?” Peter asked you.

“No. You never showed up to our date. I called you when I was walking home. Alone. I heard your phone ringing in this alley way. It was in your backpack. Here’s your stupid fucking backpack.” You said through clenched teeth and threw the backpack at him. He caught it with ease and dropped it to the floor.

“There have been Spiderman sightings on Youtube for years. Years. You never told me?” You asked and surveyed every inch of his suit as you saw it up close for the first time.

“Nobody knows.” He said quickly. “I mean, May knows. And Ned. And a handful of people I work with. But that’s it, I swear. I don’t expect you to understand this all right now but please believe that I have to keep my identity a secret for my safety. And your safety too.”

“You don’t expect me to understand?” You laughed and tilted your head to the side as if to ask if he was serious.

“I just mean that I know this is a lot to process right now.”

“It’s not a lot. You’re the Spiderman and you never thought that was something I should know. I had to find out on accident after getting stood up for the hundredth time. But, sure, I’m glad Ned knows.” You nodded and looked up so your tears wouldn’t fall.

“I would’ve have told you eventually. I just needed more time. If people knew who I was, everything would change. I wouldn’t be able to help people there way I do now. I couldn’t tell anyone.”

“Since when am I just “people”and “anyone” to you?” You shook your head. “How could you keep this from me for this long? We’ve been dating for over a year. And I’ve known you since middle school. How much time did you need?“

“I don’t know. It just never felt like the right moment to say it. I wanted to tell you so many times.”

“You just never did.” You shrugged. Peter recognized that the situation was quickly escalating and you were not reacting the way he always imagined you would.

“I don’t understand why you’re getting upset right now.” Peter said calmly. “I thought you’d be happy to understand why I have to miss so many dates and flake all the time.”

“You thought I’d be happy to learn that you’ve been lying to me for our entire relationship?” You laughed again as tears fell down your face.

“I wasn’t lying.” He defended. “I just couldn’t tell you the truth yet.”

“Yet. Right.” You smiled tightly. “We’re over a year in but haven’t gotten to the point where you can be honest with me. I see.”

“I am honest with you. This is the only thing I’ve ever lied to you about. I promise.” He said and tried to step closer to you. You immediately stepped back and hugged yourself.

“I thought you loved me.” You said as you stared at the ground.

“I do love you. How can you even question that?” He laughed in shock. You looked up at him and he saw that your anger had turned to sadness.

“Peter, you stood me up countless times. Tonight included. You let me cry myself to sleep for so many nights. All those times I walked home alone after already getting to the restaurant or watched movie by myself through tears because you couldn’t bother to show up. You knew I was feeling insecure lately about the distance between us but you still decided to say nothing to cue me in as to why it was happening. Do you know how painful it is to feel someone you love pulling away and have them tell you your suspicions are all unfounded? How long would you have let me feel that way if I hadn’t caught you tonight?”

“I…I don’t know. I’m sorry. I didn’t think about how this was affecting you.” Peter said quietly.

“Of course you didn’t.”

“Look, I know this is really upsetting now, but I’ll make it up to you. I promise.” Peter said and put his hands on his shoulders. You pushed him off of you and took a step back. Peter gulped and wondered how he was going to make it out of this conversation alive because he had never seen you reject him like this.

“You always say that. And you never do. I have a long list of things I’m still waiting for you to make up for. Why should I believe this time is different?” You asked him and folded your arms.

“It will be different. I promise. I’ll fix this. Stop walking away from me.” Peter pleaded and reached out to touch your face.

“It’ll be different. You promise. You say the same thing every time. And yet, I always end up crying over you. I shouldn’t have to cry over a relationship I’m still in.” You said as you pushed his hand away from you. An anxiety built in Peter’s stomach as he was used to you telling him it was fine every time he had disappointed you in the past. This time was clearly different and he didn’t know what to do. You turned and started to walk away from him so he quickly followed after.

“Where are you going?”

“Home, Peter.” You said without stopping.

“No. You can’t leave now. We have to talk about this. I’ll listen to whatever you have to say. You can take it all out on me. Just don’t go, please.” Peter begged as he stepped in front of you to stop you.

“I don’t want to cry anymore, Peter. I’m done. This is done.” You cried and pushed past him to keep walking. Peter froze when he heard you use that word and felt his blood run cold.

“What? Done? Done with what?”

“With you. With us. With all of it. I’m not doing this anymore. I’m breaking up with you.” You said as you turned around to look at him. Peter felt his stomach drop and could barely hear you over the sound of his heart pounding in his ears.

“What? We can’t just break up. I love you.” He protested as he got that feeling in his nose that told him he was about to cry.

“That’s not good enough for me.” You shook your head.

“What?”

“You can say you love me as much as you want but until you prove that, I can’t be with you. I won’t be with you. I’m done.” You repeated and turned to walk away again. Peter quickly ran after you and dropped down to his knees in front of you.

“No, no. No. Please. Don’t leave me. Please. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry, baby. Just give me one more chance.” He begged as he took both your hands. You looked down at him for a long time as you thought things he wished he could hear.

“Please.” He whispered, barely audible. You looked up again but it was no use to stop your tears from falling.

“Say something.” He pleaded and squeezed your hands.

“I’m saying goodbye.” You said after a beat of silence. Peter made the mistake of letting his hopes build up during that silence. He stayed on his knees as you pulled your hands out of his and walked away. His tears fell rapidly down his face and it wasn’t long before his heartache turned into misplaced anger. He got off his knees and turned in your direction.

“You’re not being fair.” He called down the street. You stopped in your tracks and turned around.

“Excuse me?”

“This isn’t fair. I didn’t ask to be bitten. I didn’t ask for this life and all this responsibility. But it happened to me and I’ll never know why but I do know that I have to do something about it. I wish I could be a normal guy my age and take my girlfriend on dates, but I can’t. I have a duty to this city to protect it. I hate that it’s true but sometimes, I have to chose helping someone in need over spending time with you. You’re acting like I went out of my way to neglect you on purpose.”

“I understand that you didn’t choose this, but you could have told me all of that from the start. Then maybe I would’ve been more sympathetic. But right now, all I can think about is every little lie you told me to keep me in the dark. Oh, I’m sick. Oh, I have homework. Oh, I have to help my boss with something. Tonight, you told me you weren’t gonna make it to our date because your aunt needed help with something. You didn’t even care enough to lie about what she needed help with. But, yet, at least I got a lie tonight. Sometimes you just don’t show up.”

“I had to lie, okay? Do you have any idea how much danger I’d be in if you let it slip who I really was?”

“So is it that you couldn’t tell anyone or you couldn’t trust me not to tell?” You asked as you walked back up to him.

“You know how you are. You tell your friends everything.” He said coldly.

“Are you seriously saying this is my fault?” You raised your eyebrows.

“I’m not saying it’s your fault.” He sighed. “I’m just saying that you’re being kind of selfish right now.“

“I’m being selfish?”

“Yes, you are. It’s selfish to expect me to prioritize you over the safety of-“

“Of who?” You cut him off. “Of literally all of New York? Of the world? Where does your domain of responsibility end? Who do you prioritize me over? Where do I rank? When do I matter to you?”

“That’s not fair.” Was all he could say because he didn’t know the answer to your questions.

“You know what else isn’t fair? Making me have to be the only bad guy here. Because the funny thing is that I would have been proud of you. I would have been honored to be the girlfriend of someone who risked their life and gave their time to protect people they didn’t even know. But you never gave me the opportunity to feel that way. You chose to lie to me. You chose this over me every single time. You never chose me. That’s why we’re breaking up. I would have understood if you needed to prioritize saving lives over dates with me but I cannot understand you lying to my face every single day for years. I spent birthdays, anniversaries, holidays, and countless nights staring at the empty seat I saved for you that you never showed up to. So no, I don’t think I’m being selfish right now. I don’t think it was selfish of me to share my boyfriend with all of New York.”

Peter was quiet again as he processed what you had said. There was no way to undo what he had done and it was clear apologizing wasn’t cutting it this time.

“I don’t know how to be without you. You’re my best friend. None of this matters without you.” Peter said in a small voice. You sighed and felt sympathetic towards him for just a moment.

“Peter, you were and always will be my first love. That’s always going to mean something to me. But now I have to look back at our relationship and never know what was real and what was a lie. If you’re not going to choose me, then I will. I’m done waiting around for you. I’m done.”

“Please, don’t give up on me. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” He croaked out.

“But you did.”

“I know. I know I did. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, baby. I’ll never stop trying to make things right.” He pleaded and tried to reach for you again.

“Don’t bother, Peter. You need to stay away from me for a while.” You told him in a calm voice.

“What? How long?” He blinked in disbelief.

“I don’t know. A long time.”

“But can we at least be friends? Like we were before?” He asked desperately.

“We can’t be friends.” You shook your head and turned to leave again.

“What? Not even friends?” His voice cracked as he called after you.

“I can’t be your friend. I can’t be in any kind of relationship with you. That’s what I’m trying to say here. I don’t trust you.”

“Ever?” He squeaked out. “We can’t ever find our back to each other?”

You didn’t answer him as you walked home alone. Peter stood on the sidewalk for a long time, unsure of what to do with himself now. He wanted to run after you and get you to see his side, but he knew that would just make things worse. You had said what you needed to say and he had to respect that as much as it pained him to see you walk away. Instead of going after you, he swung to Ned’s house and climbed through his window.

“We broke up.” The words fell out of Peter’s mouth as he pulled his mask from his tear stained face.

Peter let a month pass before he tried to speak to you again. Minus a few texts and voicemails left on particularly miserable nights, he had left you alone for the most part. But after counting down the 31 painfully long and quiet days without you, he went up to you in the hallway on campus one day.

“Hey.” He greeted you with an anxious smile. You stopped walking and looked behind you to make sure you were the one he was talking to.

“Hi.” You said with knit eyebrows of confusion.

“How are you? How have you been?”

“I’m fine.” You said flatly.

“Did you just come from class? Was it okay?”

“Um, I really don’t want to be mean here but why are you talking to me?” You asked him. Peter blinked in surprise at your response and lost all the confidence he had built up.

“Oh, um. I don’t know. We haven’t talked into a month. I was giving you space.”

“Why’d you stop?”

“Stop what?”

“Giving me space.” You replied. “I still don’t want to talk to you.”

“But it’s been a month.” He pointed out and realized how silly he sounded as it came out of his mouth.

“Okay? We ended a year long relationship and years of friendship. We can’t just go back to normal after that.”

“But…but we’re different.” He stammered. “We were different. I thought, I don’t know, maybe…”

“Maybe what? I’ll just forget about the shit you put me through?” You asked when he trailed off. He shut his mouth and went quiet and you couldn’t help but feel bad at the deer in headlights look he had in his eyes.

“Peter, I told you.” You sighed. “We can’t be friends.”

“I know we can’t go right back to how we were but we don’t have to pretend the other doesn’t even exist.” He insisted.

“No, Peter, you’re not understanding. I won’t be your friend. I won’t even fake niceties with you. I’m not trying to be mean but I don’t want you in my life in any capacity. I’m not changing my mind on this.”

“We can’t just never speak again. Our story can’t end like this.” He said quietly and you could tell he was on the verge of tearing up.

“It wasn’t supposed to. But it is. So please, just leave me alone.” You asked calmly so that he wouldn’t break down.

“I can’t. This is killing me. You and I not being together doesn’t make sense to me. Please. I’ll do anything to make this right. I still love you and-“

“Peter. Please. We’re at school.” You cut him off and uncomfortably looked around for who was listening.

“You’re telling me you don’t feel anything for me anymore? Because I don’t believe that. I know you. I know you can’t shake things that easily.”

“I didn’t think so either. But I’ve never been hurt like this.”

“Then can we please go somewhere and talk? I’ll listen this time. I swear.” Peter pleaded and stepped forward to touch your arm. You stared at him for a minute and looked sympathetic so he thought you might say yes.

“I can’t.” You said finally. “I have class. I have to go.”

“Oh, okay.” He nodded in disappointment. “Maybe some other time then. Just please know how sorry I am for hurting you.”

“You don’t need to keep apologizing, Peter.” You sighed. “I’ve moved on. I think you should too.”

“You’ve moved on? Like, with another guy?” Peter blinked a few times to stop the tears he felt threatening to spill out at this new bit of information.

“Not that it would be any of your business if I did, but no.” You amswered. “I just mean that I’d been mourning our relationship before it even ended so I accepted our breakup a long time ago. I’ve moved on now.”

“Were you really that unhappy?” Peter asked in a small voice.

“Well, yeah, Peter.” You admitted. “I loved you when you were around but it felt awful the nights you were gone. I felt completely alone a lot of the time. And even when you were with me, I was never sure you wanted to be there.”

“I always wanted to be with you.” He promised. “If you ever believe something I say again, just know how badly I wished I could have been there with you.”

You chewed your bottom lip and stared into his eyes as you tried to decide if you should believe him or not. You swore never to believe another word out of his mouth but his tired eyes seemed so genuine that you knew there must be truth to his words. But even if he was telling the truth, that didn’t matter to you anymore.

“I can’t talk about this right now. I have class.”You repeated. “Get some sleep tonight, okay? You don’t look so good.”

Another month went by and Peter was starting to feel used to not speaking to you. The thought of it beginning to feel normal to not have you in his life scared him so he called you up one night and listened to your voicemail with tears in his eyes. By month three, he pretty much just felt numb. He was falling to pieces very quickly and you were the only one who could save him. He’d seen you around on campus and sometimes get a pity wave if he stared too long. Every so often, he’d follow you home but keep his distance on rooftops. He swore you knew he was there as sometimes you’d stop and look up. He made no effort to hide but you made no effort to seek him out.

Peter was on his nightly patrol one night when his police radio started going crazy. He heard the words “bus crash” and “pile up” being reported over and over so he picked up his radio to listen for where it was. Once he had a location, he swung to the bridge and landed in the middle of the scene. Peter saw one of the large city buses on its side and twenty some cars piled up behind it. Police officers were already on the scene and helping people but Peters senses were telling him danger was still present.

“How can I help?” Peter asked an officer.

“Usually I don’t like seeing you at crime scenes but you might be able to help us. A bus is about to over the side of the bridge and our extraction guys are having a hard time getting onto the bridge with all the traffic.”

“Which bus?” Peter asked and looked around.

“It’s over there. Bus Q8.” The officer pointed out. There was a bus hanging over the side of the bridge with its nose pointed towards the water. Peter could see people inside trying to stay calm so they didn’t shake the bus.

“Q8? My girlfriend takes that bus.” Peter’s mouth went dry as his head shot back to the bus teetering over the edge of the bridge.

“Then you better hurry.” The officer called after Peter. The bus was on its side so Peter opened up the emergency hatch on the top and climbed inside. He calmed down the people on the bus one by one and assured them that he was there to get them to safety. As he spoke to the passengers, he kept an eye out for you but didn’t see you in any of the seats. You normally took the bus home at this time and Peter found it hard to believe this was the one day you didn’t.

“Was there a girl on this bus with a purple backpack? She was wearing brown converse and a jean jacket today. Did any see her?” He asked the passengers.

“Yeah. She was sitting over there.” Someone answered and pointed to the back of the bus. Peter went to your seat but only found your backpack.

“This is her backpack. Where is she?” He asked and felt his fear rise quickly. He looked around and saw that the back door of the bus was opened. He pushed the door open a little more and the bus wobbled at his movement.

“Did she leave?” Peter asked with his panic evident in his voice.

“She was helping a few people get out of the back until this little boy ran out. She told the mom she’d go find him. I haven’t seen her since.” Someone else informed him.

“Okay. Thank you. I’m gonna get you guys to safety.” Peter promised. He helped people out of the back of the bus one by one after securing the bus to the bridge with his webs. Once he was sure everyone was out safely, he began to search for you. He had an anxiety like nothing he had ever felt as he searched through the crowds for your face. As he looked around the scene, he heard a woman talking to a police officer about a girl falling over into the water. Peter felt his hair stand up and approached them.

“Excuse me? Was the girl who fell into the water wearing brown converse?” He asked and hoped the answer was no.

“I think so.” The woman replied but couldn’t be sure.

“Can you tell me what happened?” He asked.

“This girl helped me get my son after he ran off the bus. He had climbed into an empty car nearby to hide so she climbed in to get him. But the car fell into the water before she could get out herself.” The woman replied as she clutched her son to her chest.

“Did…did the car go under?” Peter asked with a dry mouth. The woman looked pained at his question and he already knew her answer.

“When I looked over the side, I saw it sink under the water. I’m so sorry. There was nothing I could do. Did you know her?” The woman asked and placed a hand on Peter’s shoulder. The police officer started asking Peter questions but he couldn’t hear anything. He felt like he was about to pass out and stumbled backwards. He took off running towards the side of the bridge and looked over into the water. The rocky river water looked especially treacherous that night, sending a sick feeling to Peter’s stomach. He wasted no time and dove into the water in search of you. He swam down and eventually found a car in the water but when he pulled the doors open, there was no sign of you. Peter quickly swam up to gasp for air before going back down to look again. He did this five times before he exhausted himself. He dragged himself onto the little patch of grass at the base of the bridge and laid on the ground. He pulled his mask off and let out a guttural sob as he covered his face with his hands. He knew he had to pull himself up and help the people on the bridge but his entire body felt like lead. He rubbed the saltwater out of his eyes and took another minute to recover. As he rolled over to get himself up, he made eye contact with you.

“Peter?” You asked in a shaky voice. You were wet from the river and holding yourself as you slowly walked toward him.

“You’re okay?” Peter asked as he got up off the ground. You were shivering from the cold and he wished desperately that he had something he could cover you with.

“Yeah. I managed to get out through the trunk of the car. I was on the other side of the platform when I heard you crying. Did you go looking for me?” You asked when you realized he was wet too. Peter was still in stunned silence at the sight of you okay after accepting that you had likely drowned.

“You’re okay.” He said and started to get all chocked up again. Peter took a step forward and opened his arms to hug you hit stopped himself. He stepped back and hugged himself instead.

“What are you doing?” You wondered.

“Giving you space.” He said seriously. It made you laugh for some reason which he didn’t understand but he didn’t question it.

“Shut up.” You said when your laughter stopped.

“I didn’t say anything.” Peter said as you threw your arms around him. He stumbled back in surprise but then hugged you back tightly. He buried his face in the crook of your neck and slipped his hands into your hair to hold you closer. It felt like muscle memory to hold you again and the chill in his bones was gone in seconds.

“That was really scary. When the car fell into the water. I couldn’t breathe.” You choked out and he held you tighter.

“I know. Shhh. I know.” He whispered in your ear as you struggled to catch your breath. You pulled away just a little so that you could look at him.

“I thought of you.” You admitted. “When I was trying to find my way back to the surface. I was so tired and my lungs felt like they were going to explode but I just kept thinking that I needed to see you again. That’s what kept me going.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t get to you sooner. I should’ve been here.”

“It’s okay. You’re here now.” You smiled sadly and touched his face. Peter returned the sad smile, the kind the made his eyes crinkle. But as he stared into your eyes, he couldn’t help but think of the things you had said the night you broke up.

“I should’ve been there for you a lot more than I ever had been.” He began. “You didn’t deserve to spend all those nights alone wondering where I was. I should’ve been a better boyfriend to you. I should have just told you the truth. I don’t even know who I was protecting in the end. I told myself it was you but that’s not true because you still got hurt and I was the one who hurt you. And I’m so sorry for that. I’m so fucking sorry. I’m sorry for all of it.”

“Peter, you don’t have to do this right now.” You assured him.

“I do. Because I don’t know when you’re gonna talk to me again and I have so much I have to tell you. So I need you to know that I’m sorry for all the times you got dressed up for me and just never showed. I’m sorry I let you think the distance between us was all in your head even though I felt it too. I’m sorry for all the calls and texts after we broke up because I could never stay away from you. And for following you home everyday because you looking up when you thought to was around was the closest to an encounter that we had most days. And I’m sorry that I clearly didn’t love you hard enough if you were able to move on so quickly. I guess the absence of my love wasn’t much worse than the presence of it. Or maybe the presence of it already felt like an absence. I know I was barely there in the end. I know you deserve better. And I hope you get better. You were always the best part of me and now I’m just the loser who got really lucky that a cool girl liked him and found a way to fuck it all up.”

“You didn’t fuck it all up.” You smiled sadly. “We had a lot of good times too. We were happy.”

“Not enough for you to stay. Which I don’t blame you for. I wish it didn’t take losing you to realize how much I needed to change but it did. So I don’t blame you for being fine without me. You’ll always be fine. You’re better off now without me in your life and I’m just falling to pieces. I guess when a heart breaks, it doesn’t break even.”

You started at him for a moment as your eyebrows came together. You let out a short laugh and expected him to do the same but he just looked confused.

“That’s that song.” You said finally.

“What?”Peter frowned. “What song? I’m pouring my heart out here.”

“I’m falling to pieces, yeah. I’m falling to piece, yeah. Cause when a heartbreak no it don’t break even.” You sang quietly and Peters eyes went up in surprise.

“Oh shit. It is that song.” Peter realized. “Damn it. I thought I made that up. I’ve been listening to The Script a lot lately. Especially the one that’s like “cause if one day you wake up and find that you’re missing me and your heart starts to wonder where on this earth I could be.” I’ve been blasting that one so much that May had to take my speakers away. So then I started scream-singing it and she threatened to kick me out.”

“It’s so like you to accidentally quote a popular song and think you made it up yourself.” You laughed softly. “You said I so confidently that I genuinely believe for a second that those were your own words. But no. It was just the musical stylings of the popular early 2000s band The Script.”

“The Script are the only people that understand me right now.” Peter mumbled, making you laugh again.

“You laugh but they make the best music for yearning.” Peter continued just to make you laugh again. He smiled at the sight of you laughing at something he had said after so many months of silence between you. When your laughter died down, you looked at him for a moment the way that you used to.

“I don’t want you to yearn anymore.” You told him and gave his hand a squeeze. Peter understood what you were getting at and nodded his head.

“Do you think we could try again?” He asked in a soft voice. You smiled a little and took a step closer to him to rest your hands on his chest.

“I think so.” You answered.

“I swear, everything will be different this time.” He insisted. “I won’t leave you lonely anymore. And we can take it at any pace you need. Just tell me what I can do to earn back your trust.”

“I don’t know. I think maybe I can trust a guy who dives into the Hudson River for me.” You said with a coy smile as you nodded towards the water.

“I really hate to do this right now but that’s actually the East River of-“

“I don’t care.” You laughed and pulled him into a kiss to shut him up.

Tag List 🏷️

@thebookwormlife @imanativeofswlondondahling

@tom-hollands-wifey

@whatareyouhidingpeter @takenbyheartstrings

@imyourliquor-youremypoison @andreasworlsboring101

@peterparkoure

@justcallmehitgirl @jackiehollanderr

@emmamarshmellow @unbelievableholland

@sovereignparker @every-marveler-ever @undiadeestos @eridanuswave​ ​

@solarxmoonchild @canyouevencauseicant

@quaksonhehe @lovelessdagger

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@whereismytelephone @so-very-asleep @white-wolf1940

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@dhtomholland @insomniac-nerd-posts-things @prancerrparkerr

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@ciarahollands

@nellabellaa @pinklxmonade @boogywoogywoogy

[loafgeto]

FANTASIZE — 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭. gojo satoru

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ having sexual fantasies about your landlord seems illegal, but what can you do when it’s gojo satoru?

⌗contents ⤥ fem!reader, she/her pronouns, explicit language used, landlord!gojo, no curses au, gojo and reader are in their 20’s (range not specified), masturbation (gojo catches you), pussy hungry gojo, oral, unprotected p in v sex, orgasms, creampie, deep penetration, pet names, not proofread

⌗wordcount ⤥ 4.7k

⌗notes ⤥ i literally thought abt this while on the toilet

finally, after a long and exhausting shift, you finally arrived back home. you were standing outside of the gates that lead into the apartment complexes, showing the security guard your identification before being allowed inside. you were tired and hungry, thinking about what to cook once you got into your home.

just as you’re reaching your apartment complex, you pass through the play area built for the children, and you notice a tall, white-haired man standing by a bench while a young child is running around with another on the playground. your heart stops when you realize it’s your landlord, gojo satoru.

while he was on the phone, you notice another man sitting on the bench, his dark hair nearly blending in with the night. you gulped, hoping to walk by without getting caught by either of them. why? because— you haven’t paid your last months rent.

you promised satoru you’d pay, but the next rent payment was due in a week and you hadn’t even sent him money. satoru didn’t bother with it during the first two weeks, however— he became impatient and was slowly demanding you pay the rent. even the co-landlord, suguru, was reminding you but rather, in a more gentle manner.

as you quietly passed by, one of the children spotted your presence. “oh! miss [name]!” the young megumi shouts out, putting the unwanted attention onto you.

oh… megumi, why?! you cursed mentally at yourself and made a quick hesitating expression before forcing a sweet smile and turning around. by that time, megumi and the other child, yuji, had jumped off the playground to greet you. they both approached you with their cute giggles, each hugging one of your legs. “megumi, yuji! what are you guys doing out here?”

“gojo and geto-san let us play outside for a little bit!” megumi answers when looking up at you. nodding, you glance at the two other men, who were deliberately surveying you— especially satoru. you clear your throat and look down at the two kids again.

“can we come to your house on saturday, miss [name]? i wanna bake cookies and watch pokemon again!” yuji questions, jumping up and down slightly.

“o-of course.. just make sure you guys get permission from your dad’s!” you reply, maintaining your smile as they pushed themselves off your legs. “i have to get home super quick now, ‘kay? just let me know by tomorrow.”

“okay, miss [name]!” they both cheered happily at the same time before scurrying back to the two men.

therefore, you took that as an opportunity to leave quickly and back to your apartment. when you arrived, you quickly unlocked the door and entered, nearly sinking to the ground. a smile slowly crept on your face and you slipped off your shoes before walking further into your home.

you glanced at the ground, noticing your broken vase was still scattered to pieces. you sigh, remembering your purse accidentally knocked it over and since you were rushing to work, you decided to clean it up once you got home. grabbing a broom from the kitchen, you swept it to the side by the wall, figuring you would gather it into the trash later.

after changing into something more comfortable, you went to brush your teeth and get ready for the night. a smile was still on your face, and well, the reason was simply because of satoru.

three months ago, you were apartment hunting after saving so much money— one of your work friends suggested you to tour an apartment from a landlord named gojo satoru.

the apartments he owned were absolutely marvelous and in your price range. but what even tempted you to sign rental agreement was satoru himself. he was someone everyone wanted: he had handsome features, a perfect build, an alluring voice, and most all, earned loads of money. to others, it was obvious that you had a huge interest in him, but it’s gotten to the point where you began developing feelings— way too much feelings. so much that you began fantasizing about him everyday.

it started off as fantasizing going on romantic dates with him— eventually to getting married, having kids, being the mom to little megumi. eventually leading to fantasizing you underneath him, holding him as he fucks into you. most would think it was absurd— to be obsessing over your own landlord who dislikes you at the moment.

but you liked the attention you were receiving from satoru. you two interacted many times before, but that’s mostly because of megumi. the child often ran into you, eventually getting close enough to where satoru allowed him to go to your house to bake cookies or for you to babysit. however, when you missed your first rent, satoru had came to your place— which, caught you by surprise, you thought he’d bring megumi but he was all by himself.

therefore, you intentionally pretended to forget to pay your rent, even though you did actually have the money to pay. of course, you were going to pay eventually, just so you don’t lose your apartment, but you were keeping up the act due to satoru’s appearances nearly everyday— demanding you to pay your rent. he’s gotten slightly aggressive over the past two weeks, but it never necessarily bothered you.

you pretend to avoid him, while still try to be around him. it was weird, maybe, but when you have a crush on someone, you usually end up doing things you don’t normally find yourself doing.

after getting into bed, you relaxed and got comfortable— but you feel as if you needed something else to cool your mind: thinking about satoru.

you felt lazy to grab one of your vibrators, so you decided to use your hands, imagining as if it was satoru’s instead.

“gojo, gojo, can i pleaseeee go to miss [name]’s house on saturday? pleaseeee,” megumi was whining to satoru repeatedly as they were heading back to their home. after saying their good nights to yuji and suguru, megumi just couldn’t shut up about you.

satoru was helping megumi get ready for bed, but the kid just couldn’t sleep until he said yes. and if satoru didn’t say much less of a no, or a simple no, megumi would throw a tantrum. satoru honestly didn’t know how to calm the child down whenever that occurs, so he makes sure to answer properly.

“maybe if she pays her rent, you can go,” satoru smiles at the kid, realizing his words slipped out without care.

“she did pay it! you just don’t check!” megumi pouts.

“oh megs, please just go to sleep. i’ll think about it tonight,” satoru replies with a sigh as he stands from kneeling beside of the bed and walks towards the door.

“nooo!! i wanna go, please!!” megumi begs, nearly crying at this point.

“gosh.. why are you so stubborn at this age,” satoru shakes his head as he was about to walk out. “fine, fine! you can go! just go to sleep, it’s late and if you don’t wake up in time tomorrow, you will not go, understand?”

suddenly, little megumi’s demeanor changed completely. he was now bubbly, smiling like crazy before getting comfortable underneath his blanket. “thank you, gojo! can you please go tell her that you said yes! i will tell yuji tomorrow, i’m so excited!” and without anything else, megumi was able to fall into a slumber.

satoru sighs yet again, shutting off the lights of megumi’s room before closing the door. honestly, he didn’t know what to do anymore, but he was glad megumi found company in someone else other than him— not that he does. satoru decides to flip through files, rental agreement files.

and of course, he stumbles upon yours. along with the papers that wrote payment overdue. satoru was pissed, to say the least.

satoru was lenient the first time, almost to the point of considering to not have you pay the rent— because, well, he also has an interest in you. his feelings began developing the day you both encountered, and he remembers trying so hard to get you to like the apartment. you both exchanged contacts that day once you signed the rental agreement, but it was nothing more than that. it initially surprised him when megumi asked to go to your place the first time, he hadn’t known then that you two were slowly becoming close as you’re adjusting to the new environment. but he shortly felt as if this was an opportunity for him to get closer with you.

now, they’re are definitely times satoru wanted to straight up say he had a fat crush on you, keeping it behind his mouth felt as if he was in high school again— however, he just couldn’t get the courage. he didn’t understand why, and most of the time, megumi would be cutting him off and grabbing your attention.

a few weeks ago, satoru was coming home with megumi, after picking him up from school. carrying the kid on his shoulders, megumi was saying this and that about wanting to visit your place. satoru was going to say yes, until: he detected you with someone else.

and that someone else ended up being suguru.

you both were chatting casually, it seemed you had also returned from work and stopped by to chat with suguru while little yuji was running around the playground with another child. watching at how you two interacted triggered satoru— the way you two smiled and laughed together, the way you tapped his arm when he said something that made you laugh. suguru was much bigger than he was, and definitely had more of the ladies’ attention.

however, in hindsight, satoru mistook your gestures and friendliness towards suguru as having feelings for him instead.

therefore, satoru suddenly became harsher towards you— but only because he was jealous of suguru and believing you liked him instead. even though his best friend didn’t show any display of affection towards you, satoru remembered the first impression you gave to suguru: “she’s pretty,” he complimented, but nothing else.

honestly, satoru felt quite immature to act like this. you weren’t even his girlfriend and even if you did like suguru, there wasn’t anything he could do about it.

satoru walked to his room, feeling utterly exhausted but still reached for his coat. as megumi wanted, he was going to deliver the message about him being allowed to go to your house on saturday to you, as well as remind you again about the rent.

the walk took no less than five minutes, though satoru often paused his steps or made circles because he felt anxious seeing you. of course, earlier he did see you when the kids were greeting you, but you barely even looked at him: at least, that’s what he perceived.

and when satoru approached the front of your door, he began anticipating as he hesitantly raises his hand to knock on the door. he leans back slightly, biting his lower lips as he thinks about what to say once you open the door. ‘hey, just wanted to say that megumi can—’ no, that wasn’t a good idea, he thought. ‘it’s time to pay your rent—’ well, not that either.

satoru shook his head, trying to surpass the feelings of nervousness before knocking on the door. and well, he must’ve knocked way too hard since the door cracked open. he stood there puzzled, and for a moment, he thought you were already on the other side. but realizing it was silent, he pushed the door open.

the first thing satoru noticed was the broken vase on the floor, causing his eyes to widen. did someone break in? is someone threatening her, is that why she can’t pay rent? dozens of thoughts were processing through his head as he enters further into your apartment, swallowing hard as more anxiety crawled up his back.

“[name]?” satoru calls out, and when you didn’t answer, he panicked even more. were you hurt? did something else happen here that he couldn’t grasp? satoru knew you lived alone, often inviting several friends or family members over but there was never anyone who looked threatening or intimidating to cause harm.

your apartment was clean, even though there were boxes and other things stuffed in corners and shelves, and there were no signs of any other damage aside from the broken vase. pulling out his phone, he readied to dial anyone. satoru was approaching your room at that point, bottled in his own thoughts as he looked around— he stands ahead of your bedroom door, realizing it was slightly cracked open, enough to where you can see the bed.

however, what satoru’s eyes laid upon was something unexpected.

the sight of you lying back on your bed, thighs spread open with your panties and underwear pushed down to your ankles, soft moans circulating the room caused blood to rush quick to satoru’s dick. while you were in your own world, satoru had been worried that something terrible might’ve happened to you. but you were just.. masturbating?

“f-fuck.. satoru..”

satoru’s eyes widened more when he hears you call out his name, causing his heart to thump and cheeks to burn red. were you imagining him right now? were you thinking about him touching you like that? the tightness of satoru’s pants began to poke out, throbbing nearly in pain as he watches you pleasure yourself because of him.

“need you to fuck me.. please..” your pleas and whines reached satoru’s ears like a melody, and he swore he could cum just by the sound of your pretty voice.

was this how you sounded like? was this how you moaned his name? it was driving satoru mad, making him want to push that door open and fuck you just like how you wanted. but, he felt like a creep— just standing there and watching.

satoru continued to watch you pleasure yourself before getting lost in his own thoughts, not remembering his phone in his other hand and dropping it to the ground. the loud thud causes the two of you to snap back into reality— sending you into an alert state and satoru into a panicked one. he cursed himself under his breath as he tries picking up his phone to quickly scatter out, but by now, you were already by the door.

“who’s there—?!” you nearly shouted, ready to attack and defend yourself against the person. but you were caught by surprise when you made eye contact with satoru.

the room became silent, as you both awkwardly stood and stared at each other for who knows how long. the embarrassment immediately got back to you, causing your face to burn and you could barely even formulate a proper response as satoru rubs the back of his neck.

“g-gojo…” you anxiously let out, averting your gaze in another direction. you could barely look him in the eyes.

“i didn’t mean to watch- or, i mean disturb you. i came at a wrong time, i’m sorry,” satoru slips out the response, also looking elsewhere while glancing back at you several times.

“you were watching..?” your face shoots up and satoru’s face nearly went pale.

“i- i just wanted to let you know that megumi is allowed to come over saturday, he wanted me to deliver the message!” satoru switches the topic as you avoid eye contact with him again.

“oh… i see,” you reply. the atmosphere was severely awkward, and you both didn’t know what to exactly or utter. “guess—”

“need help?” he blurts, eyes lowering back to you.

“help?” your eyes remain wide in shock and you can feel your heart pulsate quicker, nearly making your legs weak. you try to avoid gazes with him, but satoru reaches for your wrist just to get your attention.

satoru can feel his dick throb knowing that your needy pussy was underneath those tight shorts of yours, being forced to act normal when rubbing your thighs together out of embarrassment. he only imagines how wet you are— no, to feel how wet you are, to really know what kind of filthy girl you are. it was turning him on, and it was obvious from the bulge in his pants.

“i mean, from the way you were moaning my name, i figured you did,” satoru replies in a hushed tone, sending chills down your spine.

the moment was cut short when satoru leans in to kiss you, shocking you even more, but you instantly melted into his lips. you kissing him back with immense passion drove satoru insane, now that he figured out he had been the one all this time. he pushes his tongue pass your lips and into your mouth, hungrily searching for your tongue. you both share several soft groans before satoru grinds himself against you, allowing you to feel his erected dick.

“feel that?” satoru whispers when he leaned his head back to catch a quick breath, only receiving a small nod from you. “‘m so fucking hard, just because of you. gonna do something about that?”

“mhm.. of course..” you shyly replied, looking up at him with those nubile eyes.

you eventually find yourself on top of satoru, completely undressed aside from your soaked panties. you were facing his hard cock that was still being suffocated underneath his pants, meanwhile, satoru was beginning to tease your clothed clit with his middle finger. it made you whine, since you haven’t felt another’s touch in so long.

satoru pushes the material of your underwear to the side, getting a good view at your soaking cunt just dying to have someone’s cock drilled inside. “so pretty ‘nd perfect,” he whispers, his breath softly blowing against your clit.

“o-oh.. satoru,” you moan, feeling his tongue lap over your slit.

satoru circles his tongue around your clit, sucking it several times before working around your wet folds and pushing slightly pass them into your sopping cunt. you can feel ecstasy pump throughout your entire body, all just from his tongue.

“fuck.. your tongue- feels s’good..” you utter through your soft moans. “always fantasized you eating my pussy out like this.. a-ah..”

“yeah?” satoru hums, bringing a finger to rub circles on your clit while his tongue messily explored your cunt, licking and slurping all of your arousal that gradually coated down to his chin. your words dumped roughly on him, making his dick throb. “fucking hell. suck me off too, angel. need to feel your mouth around me.”

you push satoru’s pants down, along with his boxers that immediately causes his cock to spring out. you hold a breath as you take his length into your hand, watching as his pre-cum leaked out. you start with a lick around his tip, gathering the pre-cum on your tongue and earning a soft grunt against your pussy from him.

pushing your head down, you begin winding your tongue around his girth, sucking several times while pumping the rest with your hand. satoru’s cock twitches several times, nearly becoming sensitive under your touch and warm mouth. he proceeds to fuck your pussy with his tongue, thumbing your clit that causes your moans to vibrate around him.

“mm- ‘toru-”

“hush, baby. ‘ts okay, don’t want ya to choke. unless you like that,” satoru whispers, sinking his tongue into your pussy again, trying to slurp up all of your wetness. his nose easily brushes against your aching hole, sending you waves of pleasure.

you push satoru’s cock further into your mouth, bobbing your head up and down, trying to maintain a pace. you could barely focus due to satoru’s tongue lapping your vulva and folds, inching into your cunt as if he’s marking as his territory. the tip of his cock softly slams against your throat, slowly pooling your eyes with tears.

“don’t forget to breathe, baby. oh fuck- keep sucking my cock like that- mhm- good girl,” satoru praises, grunting as he feels your mouth taking almost all of him. you could barely even handle it, yet you’re trying so hard— it was amusing, in a cute way.

your muffled moans sync with the sloppy sounds of your cunt being lavished with satoru’s tongue, the pad of his fingers rubbing your clit faster and causing you to reach an orgasm. grinding your hips slowly on satoru’s face was enough to tell him that, and he uses his other hand to slap the fat of your ass, eventually gripping it.

“gonna cum, baby. s-shit, in your mouth?” satoru glances at you, noticing you were bobbing your head as a response.

when satoru’s warm cum shoots into the back of your throat, it causes you to orgasm at the same time. your legs twitch from the sensations, but capturing his load was the main thing occupying your mind. you’d never thought you’d be situated with satoru like this— it’s just as if your fantasies are becoming a reality.

swallowing his cum, you push your head away and inhale several breaths while coughing lightly. shortly enough, you feel satoru pulling you back against him and turning your head. after sharing a long and sloppy kiss, he pins you on the mattress, spreading your thighs apart so that he’s in between them.

from what you could see, he was still hard. very hard. his aching tip was pressed against your entrance, teasing your clit and making you whimper. glancing up at him, you could see his flushed face— full of energy, arousal, and passion.

“d-do we need lube?” you innocently inquired, which choked a soft chuckle from satoru.

“not at all, baby. you’re so wet. feel that? feel how wet you are?” satoru hums when he guides his tip along your wet entrance, hoping it’d be an enough of a satisfying answer. you only nod, giving satoru a look and he reassures you with another kiss. “i’m gonna put it in now. tell me if it hurts, ‘kay?”

“‘kay..” you nod, biting your lower lips.

satoru groans as he inserts his cock past your folds, pushing your walls apart that clenches around him each time he inched deeper. you gasped as both hands went around his biceps and your fingers press into the skin, notably marking the area. your walls fluttered around him, accepting his thick and hard cock so earnestly.

“feel okay, love?” satoru questions, glancing down at you.

“mhm.. i’m okay, ‘toru..” you reply, indicating for him to move.

satoru slowly begins to move his hips, groaning at the feeling of your pussy when his cock slips in and out. for you, his cock was already kissing your most sensitive places that had moans fall from your mouth constantly. satoru gropes one your breast, pinching the nipple with two fingers as he nudges your deepest parts.

“f-fuck! satoru- your cock feels soso good-” you cry out when his pace fastens, nearly having your eyes roll back.

so, this is how her pussy feels like? satoru was lost in his own mind, lost in the feeling of your pussy. he was already addicted, wanting to be inside you forever and be able to dump his cum into you. to him, you’re perfect: everything about you is. he loved the feeling of your soft and delicate skin rubbing against his own, aside from your pussy kissing around his cock.

“you fantasize about this too, angel? fantasize about my cock fucking into your pussy like this?” satoru huffs as his thrusts initially became quicker— rougher, nearly filling you entirely up.

“yes! yes, ‘toru. always fantasizing about it.. about you- ngh..”

you could feel a knot slowly forming in your core as his cock continues to stimulate pleasure to your pussy. you could care less about the neighbor’s ears, knowing that another tenant’s room was on the other side of your headboard. as of right now, your landlord was fucking you, just like how you’ve always imagined about. the fact turned you on even more.

satoru groans, now pounding his cock into you, deep to the point it’s kissing your womb. the sound of skin slapping circulating the air along with your moans, making the room scream perfect sex. satoru presses a finger against your lips, signaling you to lower your voice when loud knocks on the wall is heard, telling you both to shut up. but how could you?

“i can’t- ‘toru. feels so good- ‘ts too much-” you cry out, bringing his finger into your mouth and swirling your tongue over.

“naughty girl. you really want to get a noise complaint, don’t you?” satoru chuckles, before throwing both of your legs over his shoulders. well, since he’s the landlord he could just dismiss the complaint whenever it came through.

“want them to know- how good you fuck me.”

and how could satoru deny such request? wrapping his hands around your thighs and pushing them against his chest, he pummels his cock deeper into you, getting screams out of your mouth. your breasts bounced each thrust, matching the gentle slams of the headboard ramming into the wall.

the angle of the position allowed satoru’s cock to perfectly grind against your g-spot, which is already sending you towards your next orgasm. his balls slaps against your vulva as he penetrates his cock deeper and deeper, feeling your walls clench around him each time.

you don’t know how long it’s been until you’re on your knees and hands, ass in the air as satoru fucks you from behind after another orgasm. gripping onto the sheets, you repeatedly cry out his name, just to feel his dick twitch inside of you.

“you’re such a perfect girl, you know that?” satoru proceeds to blurt out compliments, caressing your skin and pressing soft kisses on your shoulder blades to your neck. right now, he was just grateful that it’s him— that he is the one able to do this with you.

“sa-satoru— ngh- i’m cumming-”

satoru was close to cumming too. he wanted to dump his next cum load into you, stuff you up to the brim and feel you milk him dry. “cum on my cock, baby. c’mon,” he encourages, pushing your hips back with both of his hands as you reach your climax.

“cum in me, ‘toru! pleasee!” you cry out next, turning your head to make eye contact with him.

satoru’s eyes wide at the sight of your lewd expression, telling him to fill you up. and so he does. he does a final deep thrust, dumping his heavy and warm load all saved just for you. satoru feels your walls pulsate around him just before he slips his cock out.

from there, you both remain in silence once more, catching breaths before satoru collapses on top of you.

“three months..” satoru whispers against your ear, utterly confusing you.

“what?”

“i’ll give you three months free of rent, maybe more if you go on a date with me.”

“that’s not fair to the other tenants though.”

“they don’t have to know.”

you giggle, turning around so that you’re completely facing him. cupping his cheeks into your hand, you lean in to give him a kiss— a more subtle kiss. “alright then. a date is settled.”

as satoru entered his apartment, he was surprised to stumble upon— a rather, agitated suguru. arms crossed over his chest, it seemed as if satoru had done something to piss him off.

“sugu—”

“do you know how many times i’ve called you? 17 times! i even messaged you and you answered none of them!” suguru rambled and satoru easily noticed fumes erupting from his ears. “you should be grateful that megumi can take care of himself.. gosh, he’s only what? seven? i can’t believe you left him home alone. what if something bad happened?”

“look— suguru—”

“ugh, whatever. i made sure megumi got to school safely with yuji. make sure you pick them up later and drop them off at [name]’s house, we have a meeting this evening,” suguru cuts satoru off again as he grabs his coat, not leaving any room for satoru to explain.

“suguru—”

“why do you look like you just..” suguru pauses once he got a good observation of satoru’s appearance. “did you drink last night?”

“wh— what? ABSOLUTELY not!” satoru defends himself.

“uh huh.. hurry up and get ready,” suguru dismisses it once more before leaving the apartment.

well, guess satoru didn’t really need an explanation after all.

LOAFGETO. thank you for reading! please do not copy my work or publish in another media without my permission.

a/n: me after using the word cock

[musings-ofthe-unamused]

At Your Service - Zenless Zone Zero

Pairing: Lycaon x Reader

Word Count: ~1k

Warnings: None

A/N: I love Lycaon so much and this is probably the tamest thing I have of him

Your hands were sweaty. You could feel your stomach rolling with anxiety, your knees weak. You were going to die. All alone, with no one to help you. And it was all your fault. It wasn't like you wanted this to happen. You just wanted to help. Now you were going to suffer for it. Your heart was pounding. 

"What did you do?"

A screech left your lips. You turned around to see Lycaon staring at the kitchen with an incredulous expression. You held your arms out, trying to block the view. He pushed past you, gently lowering your arms. The kitchen was… a mess. FLour coated the countertops. Batter had been flung across the cabinet doors and there was something burning. You could feel your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. This was truly the worst thing that could ever happen.

You cleared your throat as you sheepishly smiled. "I-I tried making… those cute souffle pancakes. The ones we got at the cafe that one time?"

"Why?" He asked, his ear twitching as he surveyed the damage. "You don't need to cook at all, Master. It's why I am here."

"Well, that's…"

You couldn't tell him the truth. You wanted to treat him, to thank him for all he's done. It wasn't easy to care for you. After your father had died only a couple years prior, he had left Lycaon to care for you. You weren't kind about it. It was a bitter feeling, getting left alone with someone you barely interacted with. Lashing out, insults, trying to run away… you had caused him a lot of trouble and most likely a lot of grief.

After a particularly bad breakdown, he had comforted you. In that moment, you realized how lucky you were to have him. An insurmountable amount of guilt had filled you. You spent the past two years or so trying to make up for it. You were kind, attentive, and tried not to cause trouble. But now, you were afraid you did more harm than good. Lycaon slowly walked around the kitchen. He came to the stove. The burner was still on. He turned it off.

"Lycaon…"

"Do not speak."

A whimper left your lips. "But, I-"

"I said do not speak. Master, this is… this is ridiculous. I work hard to keep this estate clean! If you wanted to make something, you should have asked me for help. Look at this mess."

His stern tone caused you to curl up in yourself. A meek apology left your lips. "I'm sorry."

He sighed, his tail drooping. "It's fine, Master. Just go clean up. You're covered in flour."

"I want to help clean." You protested, stepping closer.

"No." He turned to you and patted your head. "It's best to let me do it. I'll be thorough."

His hand moved to your shoulder and he turned you around, pushing you out of the kitchen. You glanced back at him to see him rolling up his sleeves, ready to get to work. Although his expression had been scolding before, there was an almost imperceptible smile on his face. Your face flushed as you hurried to your room to clean up.

 It was more than wanting to assuage your guilt. You had fallen in love with Von Lycaon. Who wouldn't fall in love with someone like that? He was everything you could wish for in a partner. And if you couldn't truly show your love for him, you wanted to do it in other ways. Having him by your side was enough. But the way he had scowled, his stern tone…

"Ah… I love him so much." You murmured to yourself.

After washing up, you made your way back to the kitchen. It was sparkling clean, like you had never set foot in it. Lycaon had an apron covering his suit. His eyebrows were furrowed as he read a piece of paper on the counter. His tail swayed languidly behind him. Your eyes focused on his muscles. You bit your lip.

"I'm all clean."

Lycaon's gaze turned to you. "Oh. Good." His tail started to wag and his ears flicked happily.

You walked over to him, peeking out behind his arm. Your eyes squinted as you tried to read the paper. "Are you making something?"

"Souffle pancakes."

"Lycaon…" You sighed and gently tugged on your sleeve. "I really am sorry. I wanted to do something good for you. I wanted to give you a gift, make you happy."

Lycaon turned to face you fully. His hands reached out and he cupped your face. Immediately, you felt a blush crawling up your neck and spreading over you. He stared down at you so intently. As if you were the only one who mattered. You swallowed thickly. His ears were pressed flat against his head. 

"You already make me happy, Master. Just by being by your side, I am the happiest I could be. Serving you, seeing you smile, seeing you safe. It is my ultimate duty to make sure you're living your best life."

You frowned. "Can you say my name? Please?"

His eyebrows furrowed. "Master, that is-"

"Please." You whispered, your voice almost desperate.

He said your name softly. As if it were a gentle thing, something so fragile, it could break at a moment's notice. Your body practically melted. You wanted him. You needed him. He was the love of your life, the only one you wanted to be near. As your heart pounded in your chest, you brought him down to you, grabbing the straps of the apron. Your lips pressed against his.

You could feel his body stiffen. His hands squeezed your cheeks in surprise. But you didn't back down. Your arms wrapped around his neck. Lycaon finally relaxed, his touch becoming softer. He pulled back and kissed your forehead and then your nose. You scrunched your face and looked up at him.

"Don't you know you're not supposed to kiss your butler?" He scolded gently.

You giggled and shrugged. "I can't help it. You're just so easy to love."

"Master…"

"No. I don't want to be your master anymore." You said softly. "I officially relieve you of your duties."

"Are you firing me?"

"I am. But I do have a new position opening up."

He quirked an eyebrow, his hands now resting on his hips. "Oh? And what's that?"

"Have you ever heard of a househusband?"

[graha-stan-account]

Things I learned from Encyclopedia Eorzea III

Do with this what you will, ffxiv fandom.

G'raha and the tower appeared about 15 years after the Flood of Light. Ardbert and team were all already dead. "Our" Minfilia had already dissipated.

At the time, he looked like his normal self. He is described as a Mystel dressed as a mage, so we can assume people knew he was a "Mystel" at the time, vs. later when his appearance is only speculative.

A bunch of refugees clamored to the Crystal Tower when it appeared. He said yeah you can hang out here, the tower defenses will keep you safe.

And then fucked off for 4 years to survey the damage of the Flood of Light.

When he got back he knew shit was really fucked and ASAP started trying to figure out how the hell to get the WoL over for pizza

At some point he figures out he needed to address the WoL verbally for some reason for the summoning to work properly???

It doesn't.

He decides this shit is gonna take 5ever and I'm already having a quarter life crisis. I'm going to bind my aether to the tower. It's the one secret anti-aging trick that has doctors PISSED

It'll be great, like, he'll almost never age.

Downside, his body slowly becomes necrotic with crystal.

More time lost because he has to use aether to discretely animate his crystallized limbs and digits to keep their use.

At some point, early Crystarium dwellers get tired of asking him for his name (he won't give it) and him rejecting the crown they offer him so they start calling him the Crystal Exarch.

Exarch says OK and wheels out some Allagan nodes to help build what would become the Crystarium. Go ham, guys.

Since no one really recalls what the Exarch looks like in present day, G'raha likely began wearing a cowl after returning from traveling Norvrandt, or when his body begins to change. Those who remember are likely dead (age or sineaters) or sworn to secrecy.

The developing crystal, which he did his best to hide, prevented him from truly connecting with the others.

Sometime after this, an infant Lyna falls into his care.

Well technically the Settlement Council (because he was like hey let's have a representative government [not because I grew up in one or anything!]! I'll just be over here.)

But he was very involved in her upbringing.

Probably because he was close friends with her parents.

Who die tragically while serving in the Crystarium guard (Meaning that the guard is at least 30 years old, likely more, as her parents were known to have served in the guard since inception basically and Lyna is 33 in SHB)

G'raha was probably in his mid-eighties at this point, judging by Lyna's age in SHB (33) and that we know G'raha had the Crystal Exarch title for 9 decades + the 24 years he had lived before he entered the tower. (He is likely slightly older due to the intervening time between being awakened in the Bad Timeline and heading to the First.)

He FINALLY gets summoning to work something like 90 years later!!!!! Except it still doesn't! Five years before he could nab the WoL, he nabbed Thancred instead (oops). It took another 2 years for it to successfully transport a soul again.

[notjustjavierpena]

King

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: A happy return my dark sugardaddy!joel. It’s truly been too long. I hope you enjoy his dark and looming presence.

Summary: You do what it takes to get that car you’ve wanted for a while.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, sugardaddy/sugarbaby dynamics, abusive relationship, dom/sub dynamics, hint at virginity kink, power dynamics, reader calls joel ‘king’. daddy kink, light bondage, verbal humiliation, demeaning talk about sex work, praise kink, slapping, manhandling, dacryphilia, choking, rough piv sex, cream pie, no aftercare

Word count: 3.3k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56477767

King

You run your fingers down over the front of your little black dress. It’s not your favorite but it doesn’t matter as it is not the centerpiece of your outfit, mischievously hiding an emerald green set of lingerie underneath it that peeks out from under the hem in the form of a garter belt. 

The silk underwear is new, bought only last week when Joel took you shopping for something new to tear to pieces. He’d chosen this color very carefully but you suspect that it had really been the heart-shaped gap between your legs that had made it sell itself. You knew instantly then, from the way his eyes had darkened and his suit pants had tightened, that it would become a useful weapon in getting what you wanted. Not that you would ever say it out loud (and you suspect that he knows) but Joel is sometimes easy to read, easy to wrap around your finger if you let him do as he pleases. He cares about your happiness and wants but he just doesn’t like to say it out loud, likes to play games so it looks like it is his idea. You’re happy to indulge him in this fantasy if you end up benefiting from it anyway. 

The black dress has no uneven ruffles but you still smooth it out underneath your palms. Then you head to his king-sized bed, toeing off your shoes, and decide to take a nap on your front until he gets home. He doesn’t even know you have a mission. 

Joel arrives home a few hours later. You wake up from the sound of his car crunching the gravel of his driveway, announcing his arrival like an impending hurricane that has consciousness to be merciful but only if it likes. You imagine the scene in your head; the sight of the car coming to a jarring halt, the door being opened and a single foot hitting the solid ground. 

You get out of bed immediately with your heart pounding at the thought of seeing him in just a moment. You leave your shoes behind as you exit the bedroom, tiptoeing out into the hall to peer down at the front door from the top of the enormous staircase. 

You can hear the jingle of his keys and then he is framed in the doorway, a dark shadow in contrast to the pining sunlight outside. He looks around for you for a moment, surveying his large home with a presence that fills the space completely. 

You try to steady your breathing so as to not reveal yourself to be spying on him, taking note of how he carries himself and what mood radiates from him. Sometimes it’s not the right time to ask for things. Sometimes it’s better to just spread your legs or open your mouth. 

However, Joel simply closes the door and lets out a tired, relieved breath, hand coming up to run across his forehead and using two fingers to pinch the bridge of his nose. His shoulders slump at this moment that he thinks he is alone, and you release a breath that you didn’t know you have been holding in as you find no clenched fists or angry muttering to himself. 

You make your way back to his bedroom and decide that sitting obediently on the edge of the bed, posing as someone who has been waiting to make his life easier, is the best way forward. 

It takes a little while before you hear his footsteps approaching outside the room. He opens the door slowly, entering the room with his still impressive demeanor. You give him a little smile and push yourself to stand, making your way towards him and pecking his lips when you stand in front of him. 

“Hey,” he says, only a hint of warmth in his tired voice. He reaches out to place a hand on your waist, his grip on your body feeling more like a claim than a comfort.

“You look tired,” you note and cup his cheek with your dominant hand. He closes his eyes briefly as if drawing something from your touch, draining something out of you. When he opens them again, they go down to take in your appearance. His grip on your waist tightens. 

“And you look…” he begins but is unsure how to compliment the effort you’ve put into your outfit that’s only for him. It seems like he genuinely wants to say something nice until his eyes narrow in suspicion, “What’s this for?” 

“I want a new car,” you let him tower over you as you decide to be bold in his fatigued state. Your fingers come up to peel the straps of your dress off, letting them droop down over your delicate skin for just a second before pulling the rest of the dress down to pool around your feet. You step out of it, don’t dare smile in case he might see it as smugness.

Joel looks unimpressed, disappointed even. He narrows his eyes further, a flicker of irritation across his face. He lets go of your body as if you are suddenly not interesting anymore, reaches to undo the knot on his tie, “Take one of my old ones. I have plenty… and with the way ya drive I shouldn’t be spendin’ so much goddamn money on somethin’ new and shiny because you’re bored of your other toys.”

“Joel,” you pout, entwining your fingers in front of you to make your arms squeeze your breasts together tightly while you push out your bottom lip. 

“That ain’t my name,” he replies and briefly looks down at your cleavage, “And what? The little princess didn’t like her pony? You’re so fuckin’ spoiled. A dumb cliché.” 

“Daddy,” you correct yourself and he nods once. You walk backward towards the bed, crawling onto it and making sure he watches you with every step you take, teasing the bottomless panties while doing it. You sit on your knees, his favorite submissive position, and smile with the hope of making his dick hard. It’ll make this so much easier, “Please. I can earn it. I can be a good girl.”

“Show me whatcha got,” he tells you, his tone letting you know that his attention is fleeting so you better make use of it now that you have it. 

You lay down on your front, propping yourself up on your elbows by resting your chin in your hands. You give him a sweet, doe-eyed smile, “Honey, you’ve had such a long day.”

“Nope,” he rejects the fantasy with a bored expression but still takes one step closer to the bed, “Try again.”

You try not to let him see the frustration on your face that your first fantasy fell through, recovering quickly by getting up on your slightly-spread knees. You grab the end of the bed, leaning forward to make your position even more provocative. 

“It’s my first time, Daddy,” you say with a pout, blinking your long lashes at him, “I’m a little nervous. I’m so wet between my legs. Can you tell me what’s happening to me?” 

Even as Joel swallows thickly, he shakes his head while he walks to the side of the bed. He stares at you from a few feet away from the edge, “No. Again.” 

You notice that he is getting hard but you know him well enough to tell that it is from the game that you are playing with each other right now and not from how you look or act. He gets off on the power he has over you, and you feel yourself getting excited from it too. 

Power. That’s the one. 

You crawl forward and lay down on your back on the vulgarly huge bed, staring up at him as you swing your legs out over the edge of it. You spread them slowly to make his gaze burn, revealing the heart-shaped hole in your panties and your soaked pussy that he can slide into if he wants. All he has to do is take a few steps forward and lift your thighs over his hips. 

Joel is too easy sometimes but mostly when he’s in one of his good moods. He stands beside the bed not a second later, looking down at you with awaiting eyes. You know exactly which words to make him fuck you until you cry, even feel a little silly that it hadn’t occurred to you the second you saw him enter the house. 

You give him a hazy look, holding your thighs open for him. His gaze bores into yours and you swear that he can read your mind. Even so, you don’t blink or cower under the look of God. 

“You’re my king, Daddy.”

“Attagirl, that’s better,” he praises to make your skin prickle and your chest feel ablaze.

Something in Joel’s eyes darkens with the idea of being superior in every way and the spark of fire that you have ignited only seems to grow when you don’t try to act like this isn’t the case but instead give in and let him know just how beneath him you are. Figuratively and literally. 

He reaches for his belt, unbuckling it with rough hands as he plans your demise in his head, all kindness seeping out of his face as if the way he praised you seconds ago simply didn’t happen. There’s something about those Shinigami eyes, teasing the border between fear and arousal. The urgency of his movements tells you that it’ll hurt for days but the pretty things that you’ll receive in return are worth not being able to stand upright for a while. You calm your beating heart by listing cars in your mind, choosing colors, models, and leather seats. 

You return to reality when you hear Joel’s fingers snap in front of your face. He sneers, kneeling on the bed with one knee and pulling off his tie completely, “Don’tcha fuckin’ think you get to decide what car you’re gettin’, honey. If you want one, I decide. We clear?”

You watch with pleading eyes, knowing you should say something but faltering because all you want to do is complain about his decision. There goes that dream of an expensive Aston Martin, the one that has kept you scrolling through your phone.

“You dare make your King wait?” He spits harshly when you don’t answer quickly enough, his eyes going practically black with rage. There’s no emotion in them anymore, not even when you whimper at his tone. He reaches out for your arms, violently yanking them towards himself so he can wrap the tie around your wrists, and the panic that you feel suddenly starts to make you cry. He ties a painful knot, securing your arms tightly until he pushes them over your head, “You don’t behave then you don’t getta touch.” 

You whine with tears at the corners of your eyes, looking away in shame in the way that he likes. However, it is actually a punishment because you do really like touching him - or at least just hold onto him, which you still can but you don’t dare move your arms back down - when he fucks you. The avoidance of his powerful eyes earns you a slap to your right breast, and you yelp in surprise. 

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” you babble, barely able to croak out a coherent reply whilst you twist on the sheets from the unprepared sting to your chest. As you turn your body to the side, subconsciously trying to protect yourself from more painful strikes, you curl in on yourself and thus pull your legs shut, “You know best, I-I know. I understand.”

“Lie still, ya bimbo. I saw that hole between ya legs drippin’ wet, so you’re gonna lemme use it or you won’t get as much as a damn penny for your stupid new obsession,” he curls his calloused hands around your thighs until they dent the skin and maneuvers you onto back once more. He holds your legs open, knees pressing into the mattress until you feel as though your hips might dislocate. He stares down between your legs, smiling to himself at the heart shape in your panties. The stitching of it is coated in your slick, obscene in how creamy and white it is compared to the emerald color of the fabric. Joel makes a primal sound, “Daddy fuckin’ likes. God, I am gonna ruin ya, baby, ruin this well-behaved pussy.”

“Just for you, Daddy. It’s all just for you, I promise, money or not,” you cry quietly with your bottom lip sticking out, wiggling your hips as much as you can under his powerful weight to show how desperate you are for him. You want to tell him that he already has ruined you. Oh, how thoroughly he has ruined you and ruined everyone else for you. However, no one should make the mistake of thinking you have not let him, no, you have waited for him to find you in a sea of unimportant and tedious nobodies, and fuck, you love him for it. Even if he makes you cry. 

“That’s right, just f’me,” he smiles down at you almost tenderly whilst removing one hand from your thigh to undo his pants. You smile with wet cheeks, eyes glazed over as he hurries to get his cock out, the head red and angry from not having enough attention. You put on a show of looking like your life depends entirely upon whether he gets inside of you soon. 

“You want Daddy to fuck ya? Fuck ya so I’ll give in like I always fuckin’ do?” He aligns himself with you, gliding the thick head of his length through your soaked folds. 

“Please,” you choke out feebly when he starts to spear you on his dick, feeding you inch by inch with his girth until your whole lower body buzzes with greed. Your tied-up hands grip the sheets above your head, your breath shaky as he drapes your thighs over his hips when he has bottomed out inside you. 

Your voice wavers as he starts moving inside of you, setting a painful pace that has your eyes rolling back into your skull, your body thrashing, and your moans climbing in pitch like you are possessed. He knows what you like and you can feel he might be generous about it today. After all, you’ve put in so much effort to look nice and what would a King be if he couldn’t exceed in everything? That means even your pleasure.

He leans over you when you tighten your legs around his waist, rough hands settling on your hip bones so he can grind harshly into you. You beg for him, pleading his name as if in prayer again and again. His pelvis nudges at your swollen yet untouched clit. It causes you to scream and grab harder at the sheets as your orgasm builds up fast. You sob on the shaking bed as he puts more effort into each thrust. The head of his cock molds you to fit him each time, reaching something inside of you that has you sizzling with ecstasy in a way that no man has ever made possible before. You didn’t even know you could come like this, so intensely, before you met him but despite his talent, he is cruel even in his generosity. 

“You’re gettin’ fucked for a dumb car, you know that?” He growls above you, staring down at your wide eyes and open mouth. He moans with a smirk, “You know what that makes ya?” 

He keeps you on the edge with his thrusts, teasing an orgasm that he doesn’t allow to come yet. In the most frustrating of ways, you find that even if he exceeds in making you come, it’s not a given that he’ll just hand it over to you. Nothing is ever out of the goodness of his heart. You nod frantically as if it’ll make him think you are anything other than pathetic, “Yes! Oh God, yes, please.”

“Say it, sweetheart,” he demands, splaying a hand on your chest and letting it travel up to rest on your neck. However, he doesn’t squeeze to watch your face heat up in panic or push his merciless thumb into your windpipe. Instead, he waits for you to follow orders. 

“A whore, Daddy,” you reply with a whimper, driven crazy by the unreleased tension in your lower belly. You scrunch your eyebrows, “Please— ah, l-let me come.”

“That’s right, a filthy, little, gold-diggin’ whore,” he lets out a sound that’s a mix between a laugh and a moan. Those words make your cunt clench around his cock, walls squeezing enough to make him switch up his pace. His thrusts become sharp and erratic, sending you hurtling towards your high so quickly that you throw your head back and involuntarily twist your arms as much as you can. 

You come with Joel’s violent grip on your throat, with your tits bouncing in the skimpy outfit and your pussy gushing on his dick when your clit happily gets its way. He follows behind you, panting in exhaustion as he finally gets pushed over the edge by how you pulse around him with each beat of your fluttering heart. He is warm inside you, making a mess of your panties with how much already spills out of you around his girth. 

It’s intense even in its aftermath. None of you move for a moment and the body heat radiating from you to him and vice versa has you sticking to each other. Joel has a palm on the bed while the other grabs at one of your thighs that are still slung around his body. He strokes up and down to soothe you but only to slip loose of the hot choke of your pussy. 

You look up at him with a soft whimper when you’re left empty, knowing not to say any actual words yet. Silently, he unties your wrist and you gaze longingly at him as he leans over you to do so. He is so commanding even when he has not uttered a word. Above you, he looks so beautifully disheveled - some of his curls have fallen into his forehead, one sticks to the sweat there - and when he is done, he quietly starts unbuttoning his shirt. 

Once naked on his chest, he stares and thinks about something for less than a second. He is quick in his evaluation of the situation, finally stepping out of his bottoms. He takes his time to dig into the pocket of his discarded pants, retrieving his wallet and you wait as patiently as you can muster as the anticipation grows.

“I think that dirty fuck deserves an Aston Martin at the very least, don’tcha think?” He smiles knowingly but it doesn’t reach his eyes and places his sleek black card on the bed. You hear him mutter the word pathetic as you reach for the card but when you peek up at him, you can see the way he takes pleasure in rewarding you when you so successfully display the thrill you feel in earning it. 

Your body aches but you prop yourself up on your elbows, grinning with tear-streaked cheeks, “Thank you, Daddy.” 

Joel leans down over you once more, capturing your lips in a possessive kiss and tangling his hand in your hair to make you unable to pull back. He knows how to show you who is in charge but he sets it in stone when he only draws back an inch after breaking the kiss again. 

“Remember, baby,” he murmurs, voice raspy with sex, “You only get what you deserve and you’ve been very deservin’ today.”

“Can I shower with you?” You smile sweetly. It seems like the right time to ask for a bit of intimacy. 

Joel huffs a laugh and shakes his head, “No. Lie in it.”

He disappears after that. Your smile does too.

.

.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

[millyh23]

Selective Standards

Alessia Russo x Reader

word count:

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Y/N walked into the changing room, expecting to find the usual post-training chaos—water bottles here, jerseys there, a few bits of kit scattered on the benches. But this was on another level. A mess of epic proportions.

Protein shake bottles lay on the floor, half-empty, with their lids off, spilling sticky liquid across the floor. An assortment of clothes, some still in training gear and others discarded in the middle of the room, was strewn about, creating an obstacle course. Half-open snack wrappers crinkled underfoot, and towels were abandoned haphazardly across the benches. It looked like someone had taken a whirlwind tour of the room and forgotten to clean up after themselves.

Y/N froze in the doorway, mouth agape.

“What the hell happened in here?” Y/N muttered, stepping into the chaos, surveying the damage. Her hands flew to her hips as she turned to face the team. “Who even leaves a place like this? This is so disrespectful. We’re a team, we’re supposed to take care of our space. Whoever made this mess should be reprimanded. They should pay a fine or be suspended for a game. This is ridiculous.”

The room fell silent. A few players exchanged awkward glances, and some even stifled small chuckles, glancing at each other. It wasn’t every day they saw Y/N go off like this. Normally cool-headed, Y/N’s frustration seemed to be bubbling over today.

Leah, who had just come out of the showers, raised an eyebrow, clearly amused but trying to hold back her laughter. “Y/N… I don’t think it’s that deep.”

“It’s that deep, Leah,” Y/N snapped, gesturing to the mess. “Look at this. It’s disrespectful to all of us. You know how hard we work. This—” She pointed to an empty water bottle rolling across the floor, “—this is a disaster.”

Katie, who was sitting on the bench nearby, grinned mischievously. “You know, you could always just pick it up yourself, right?”

“No,” Y/N huffed, her eyes scanning the room, clearly riled up. “Someone needs to be held accountable. This isn’t just a little accident. It’s a pattern of neglect.”

Just then, the door opened, and Alessia Russo walked in, her attention quickly drawn to the group as she noticed them all looking toward her. She hadn’t noticed the mess yet.

Y/N shot a pointed glance toward the protein shake bottle, still leaking a sticky mess onto the floor. “Whoever did this needs to clean it up—immediately. No exceptions.”

Leah couldn’t help but smile, taking a slow step toward Y/N. “Well, you might want to turn around, because—”

Before she could finish, Y/N’s voice rang out again, sharp and direct. “And I’m serious. If this happens again, I don’t care if it’s—”

“Uh, Y/N,” Leah interrupted, a grin tugging at her lips as she stepped to the side. “It’s Alessia’s mess.”

Y/N froze mid-sentence, her eyes wide. She turned slowly to see Alessia, who was now staring at the group, completely unaware of the mess she had left behind. Her eyes darted from teammate to teammate, catching their expressions. And then her gaze fell on the aftermath she’d left in her rush.

“Oh no,” Y/N muttered, her face turning bright red. She hadn’t even noticed that Alessia was the culprit when she was ranting. “I didn’t—uh… I didn’t realize it was—”

Katie raised an eyebrow, giving Y/N an amused look. “You sure? You were just about to have someone suspended for this.”

Y/N, caught in the moment, quickly tried to backtrack, her voice dropping an octave as she rubbed the back of her neck sheepishly. “Well, I mean, we all get caught up in things, right? Just a little… oversight. Nothing major. It’s fine. Not a big deal. Right, Alessia?”

Alessia, who had been listening with an amused grin, walked over and casually tossed her gym bag on the bench. “Yeah, I was running late for media stuff,” she said with a shrug. “Guess I left a trail behind me. Sorry about that.”

Y/N, now visibly flustered, waved her hand dismissively, trying to cover up her earlier outburst. “No, no, it’s… it’s really not that serious. Just, maybe next time, a little more care when you’re in a rush? That’s all. Right, guys?” She forced a smile, but it was clear she was embarrassed.

Katie burst out laughing, slapping her hands on the bench. “Oh, you were so ready to fine someone for this mess, and now you’re backtracking?”

“I was just—” Y/N started, but she didn’t have the energy to continue. “I guess I got a little carried away. It’s Alessia. I’ll let it slide… just this once.”

Alessia, who had clearly caught the shift in Y/N’s tone, grinned and casually threw an arm around her shoulders. “It’s all good, babe. Thanks for being so understanding. I’ll do better next time.”

Y/N shot a playful glare at her, trying to regain her composure. “Just… don’t make me do a whole speech next time. I’ll have to give you a fine or something.”

The entire team erupted into laughter as Y/N’s serious demeanor quickly crumbled into a sheepish smile. Alessia leaned in close, still grinning. “You’re the best, Y/N. Maybe I’ll get you to help me clean up next time?”

“Yeah, sure,” Y/N muttered with a roll of her eyes, “I’ll bring the fine book.”

And with that, the room returned to its usual chaos—but this time, everyone was a little lighter, the tension having dissolved in a fit of laughter.

---

The team was starting to form more bad habits. Every day, without fail, more and more players were coming late to training. It wasn’t anything too serious at first—just a few minutes here and there—but Y/N, always one to stick to the rules and maintain discipline, was getting fed up.

It had been the third day in a row that several players were running through the gates minutes after the scheduled start time. She couldn’t take it anymore.

“Alright, that’s it,” Y/N muttered to herself, crossing her arms tightly over her chest as the last player jogged onto the field. “Enough is enough.”

She marched up to the front, her voice firm and clear as she addressed the entire team. “I’m done with this. We’re all professionals here, and we can’t keep letting people stroll in whenever they feel like it. From now on, anyone who’s late will be fined. A minute late? A minute’s fine. You’re five minutes late? Five minutes’ worth of fines.”

The room went silent, the rest of the players exchanging nervous glances. They knew Y/N wasn’t messing around.

Katie, ever the troublemaker, leaned in and whispered to Leah, “She’s not serious, is she?”

“Oh, she’s dead serious,” Leah replied, eyes widening as she watched Y/N cross her arms and glare at the group. “You’ve seen her like this before.”

Y/N’s eyes scanned the room, locking onto the players who had been late. “This isn’t school, people. You all know better. You’re adults. You can show up on time. It’s disrespectful to your teammates, and we need to take this seriously.” She turned to face a particularly late-looking Kyra. “Five minutes late today. That’s a fiver.”

Kyra rolled her eyes but said nothing, too tired of the back-and-forth to argue. Y/N then turned her eyes to the next culprit, Alessia, who had just jogged in, breathless from her sprint to the field.

“Alessia, you’re late again!” Y/N snapped, hands on her hips, but before Alessia could even start to apologize, Y/N’s tone softened. “No, no. It’s okay. It’s not your fault. It’s just—training was probably a little too early for you today. I’ll take care of the fine. Don’t worry about it.”

Alessia blinked, surprised by the sudden change in tone. “Really? You’ll take care of it?”

“Of course,” Y/N replied, shaking her head, her voice calming. “You don’t need the added stress. We’ll make sure your fine is covered. You can count on me.”

Y/N then glared back at the others. “But for everyone else? You’d better pay up. You’ve all been warned.”

Leah gave her a pointed look as Y/N turned her attention to the rest of the group. “If anyone else is late, there’s no excuse. I mean it. We’re not running a daycare here.”

The session went on, but Y/N couldn’t help but notice how the other players seemed to keep a little distance from her. They knew Y/N meant business, and with her new fine system, she wasn’t about to let anyone get away with being tardy.

The next few days passed, and the fines kept racking up. By the end of the week, Y/N had nearly filled a small notebook with the fines from late arrivals, most of which had come from the usual suspects: Katie, Beth, and a few others who just didn’t seem to care. But when Alessia was late yet again, Y/N was quick to brush it off.

“Alessia, don’t stress. I’ve got this,” she’d say, her voice soft and reassuring, even as she filled in the fine for her late arrival.

The others watched this dynamic unfold. The fines were getting hefty—very hefty—but every time Alessia was late, Y/N would simply wave it off and mutter that it was okay. They all found it strange, but there was something about the way Y/N spoke to Alessia that made her seem… untouchable, in a way.

By the end of the month, Y/N had paid off all of Alessia’s fines, covering the hundreds of euros in late fees. Every time she brought it up, Alessia would try to refuse.

“You really don’t need to do that, Y/N,” Alessia said, a hint of guilt in her voice.

“I’ve got it covered,” Y/N replied with a smile, brushing off Alessia’s concern. “It’s not a big deal.”

But even as she said it, Y/N couldn’t help but wonder why she was doing it. Why did she always soften when it came to Alessia? Why was she willing to put up with the fines when everyone else had to pay up without a second thought?

One evening, as they sat together after training, Y/N gave Alessia a sideways glance. “You know, if you just stopped being late, I wouldn’t have to pay these fines for you.”

Alessia looked at her with a half-smirk. “Maybe I’m just testing how far you’ll go.”

Y/N chuckled softly, rolling her eyes. “Well, consider this the last time, okay? I’m not made of money, and I’m not paying your fines forever.”

Alessia laughed, leaning in close. “I know. But I appreciate it, Y/N. More than you know.”

Y/N just smiled, knowing full well that no matter how many fines Alessia racked up, she’d always be the one to take care of it. She didn’t mind. Not when it was Alessia.

It was one of those days where the team was a little too playful for their own good, and Katie had a mischievous gleam in her eye. She leaned in towards Alessia, a sly grin creeping across her face as she whispered her idea.

“Why don't you come in an hour late to training? You know, just to test if Y/N will actually follow through with paying your fine,” Katie suggested, practically vibrating with excitement.

Alessia raised an eyebrow. “Are you serious? You really think she’d pay a £200 fine?”

Katie’s grin only grew wider. “Y/N loves you. She’s a softie for you, trust me. She’ll pay without batting an eye.”

Alessia hesitated, but then the thought of seeing how far Y/N would go for her made her heart flutter. “Alright, fine. But if she gets mad, I’m blaming you.”

Katie winked. “Deal.”

The next day, as the team finished their warm-ups and got into their drills, Alessia sneaked in, only to join the sprints, breathless and looking sheepish as she entered the pitch.

Y/N, who had been keeping track of everyone’s arrival times as usual, immediately shot her a glare. “Alessia, you’re late,” she said, arms crossed and voice stern.

The team watched with baited breath, knowing full well that this was going to be interesting. Y/N pulled out her notebook, jotting down the fine.

“1 hour late, that’s £200,” she said, her voice sharp as she turned to the rest of the team. “You all know the rules. Late is late.”

Alessia bit her lip, trying to keep a straight face as she watched Y/N turn back to her, ready to pay the fine. Without a single word of complaint, Y/N pulled out her wallet, counted out the money, and handed it to the coach.

“Here you go,” Y/N said, her voice oddly calm.

Katie couldn’t contain her smirk. “Wow, I didn’t think you’d actually do it.”

Y/N barely even looked at Katie. She turned back to Alessia, her face softening. “You don’t need to worry about this,” she said gently. “It’s not your fault. I’ll take care of it.”

Without thinking, Y/N reached forward and cupped Alessia’s cheek, leaning in for a kiss, soft and sweet, making the rest of the team collectively roll their eyes. When they pulled apart, Y/N smiled, her eyes full of affection.

The rest of the team, including Leah, watched in stunned silence, unsure of what to say. Katie, trying to keep a straight face, let out a dramatic gasp. “I can’t believe you actually paid it, Y/N! You’re such a sucker.”

Leah, smirking, chimed in, “Looks like Alessia’s got you wrapped around her finger.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a soft chuckle. “I’m not a sucker. I’m just making sure my girlfriend isn't stressed over something silly like fines.”

Katie raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really?"

Alessia leaned in, trying to hide the smile tugging at her lips. “You really didn’t have to do that, you know. I was just testing you…”

Y/N turned to the group, suddenly serious. “You shouldn’t have pressured poor Alessia into that,” she said, her voice taking on a more reprimanding tone. “If you all have issues, you come to me. We don’t put her in situations like that. You’ve all got to start acting your age. We’re supposed to be grown, not schoolkids that mess with each other for fun.”

The rest of the team exchanged glances, bored for Y/N's thousandth lecture, and nodded in acknowledgment.

Leah nudged Katie, both of them smirking. “I think Y/N’s getting soft,” Leah teased. “Guess the only one who can make her pay £2000 without a fight is Alessia.”

Katie laughed. “I’m just amazed. She didn’t even hesitate! It’s like she has a weakness for her. She's like kryptonite”

Y/N gave them a mock glare, but her voice had a playful edge. “Alright, alright, I get it. You two are clearly jealous because I didn’t pay your fines.”

Katie threw her hands up in defeat. “I mean, I would have asked, but I’m pretty sure you’re whipped for Alessia.”

Leah chuckled. “I think she just wants to see if she can get away with being that spoiled.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, turning back to Alessia, who was clearly enjoying the teasing. She gave her a smile, though. “You’re lucky you’re cute. And you know I’d do anything for you.”

Alessia grinned, her heart swelling with affection. “I know. I won’t make a habit of it. I swear.”

Y/N chuckled softly, her protective nature not fully letting go, but a warmth in her chest that reminded her just how much she cared for Alessia.

The rest of the team couldn’t help but laugh at the playful dynamic between the two, and even though they were teasing Y/N, there was a sense of warmth in the air. It was clear they were a team in more ways than one. Even if some of them had to be teased a little for their soft moments, they all knew Y/N had their backs—just as much as she had Alessia’s.

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The End

[bandgie]

I had an idea but idk if you'd be comfortable with it so feel free to ignore it

I thought of minho and hyunjin for it. minho knowing hyunjin has a crush on someone. minho knows her but hyunjin doesn't. to tease him, minho takes the girl out on a friendly date and takes pics to show hyunjin. he gets jealous but that pushes him to talk to the girl and after meeting up a few times, they fuck. as revenge, hyunjin takes a picture or video or whatever to send to minho

I like loser to cocky hyunjin 😶

2k words

warnings! MDNI 18+, blowjob, throat fucking (light), cum swallowing, recording during oral

"Hyung, can you not send me things like that?"

"Like what?" But Minho already knows. He has a sly grin that makes his top two teeth slightly poke out. The smile only widens when Hyunjin groans, digging his phone from his pocket and unlocking it.

It only takes a few clicks before Hyunjin shows Minho the message. A sent picture of you holding up ice cream, smiling, and throwing up a peace sign.

"Ohhh," Minho pretends to finally understand. "Did you know she loves strawberry ice cream?"

"Minho!" Hyunjin jumps at the sound of his voice. "You know how I feel. It doesn't make me feel any better." He shoves his phone back into his pocket, folding his arms. "You're being a mean hyung to me."

"Mean? It's not my fault you're not doing anything. I'm just trying to give you a little encouragement." And although that's somewhat true, Minho can't lie that he finds joy in Hyunjin's scowl. 

Hyunjin shakes his head. "Well, stop it. It's not working."

But Minho doesn't. Every few days, Hyunjin gets an image of you with Minho. It ranges from going out for lunch to volunteering at animal shelters. Minho is in the same major as you and Hyunjin only came across you once. That's all it took for him to develop an innocent crush; one that Minho is seemingly keen on ruining.

Message after message, days upon days that leave Hyunjin feeling a mix of emotions. He's at the university library, staring at his phone and debating on blocking Minho's number until a glimpse of your figure catches his attention. 

It shouldn't be a surprise to see you, you all go to the same college, but it's rare for Hyunjin to come across anyone he knows due to his schedule. For a minute, he just watches. He observes the way you survey the room to look for a spot, and steps slowly to get a good look. He watches as your eyes lock with his, smiling and giving a small wave. You quicken your steps in his direction-

Holy shit. Are you going to sit next to him? Hyunjin hurriedly collects his scattered papers to make some room, not bothering to lock his phone that he hastily sets on the table. Your steps get closer, his heart beats faster. He's managed to make a small, messy pile when you stop just a few inches shy away from him. 

"It's Hyunjin, right?" Gosh, even the way you say his name makes his stomach dip.

Hyunjin nods, eyes shifting from his paper to your face. "Yeah."

"Okay good!" You happily set your backpack on the table and choose the seat right next to him. "I wasn't sure. I just seen you and thought you looked familiar. You're Minho's friend, no?"

This is the closest Hyunjin's ever been with you. He can smell your perfume, the lip balm that makes your mouth shine, and your cheery expression as you speak. How is Minho even friends with someone so happy?

Probably to make Hyunjin's life difficult. But there isn't an opportunity to answer as Hyunjin's phone goes off. Still unlocked, both of you stare at the message. 

From: Asshole [image sent] got to try out the new cafe with your favorite person the other day lol

Hyunjin reaches for the phone, but the damage is already done. You're quicker than him, snatching it off the table and scrolling further into the messages. Some casual conversations, lots of cussing, but mostly you. Just photos of you with captions ranging from what you did with Minho to Hyunjin asking- no begging - for Minho to stop. 

"What the hell?" You mumble to yourself just as Hyunjin successfully pries his phone from your grasp. He's sweating, you notice. Chest expanding rapidly and hands shaking. "Why is Minho sending pictures of me to you like that?"

He just shakes his head, unable to answer from embarrassment or shock, you're not sure. His dark hair sweeps over his face and he hurriedly packs his things. "I need to go." His voice is just as shaky as his hands. 

You grab a hold of his bag, preventing him from leaving. "You're not going anywhere." You yank on the material and he whines. "Hyunjin." He whines again at the sound of his name, but he remains standing and pulling against your grasp.

"Hyunjin. Sit. Down."

His legs turn to jelly, a final whimper escaping his throat as he plops back in his seat. You let a sigh, rubbing your temples in a way that makes Hyunjin gulp.

"Sorry, I...I didn't mean to say it like that." You take a deep breath. "I just don't understand why Min is sending you pictures of me. It comes off a little...weird. You know?"

Weird? Oh, he's so fucked. You're keeping a neutral expression, but Hyunjin isn't sure how much longer that'll last. If he tells you the truth, you might be disgusted. You both hardly know each other, how can he harbor even just some feelings for you? This is Minho's fault. It's only fair that he gets the full blame. 

"Yeah, no I get it," Hyunjin nods. "He just..." Fuck, what is he supposed to say?

You give him a few seconds before you prompt him again, "He just what?" You're being so patient. So understanding that you're still here letting Hyunjin save his ass. You should have called him a perv by now, slapping him across the face. But you didn't.

"He's just a dick." Fuck it. "I've already asked him to stop, but he just likes to torture me." You raise a curious eyebrow, but Hyunjin continues. "It was one time. I said that I think you're pretty just one time and he makes it his fucking mission to make sure he sees how much fun he's having with you."

That's not what you were expecting, but Hyunjin is far from done. "I would love to get to know you, to talk to you, but I'm such a pussy. That dick rubs it in my face how often you two hang out. Like, that's cool and all, but I want to rip my hair out." Hyunjin gets more confident as he talks, most likely getting riled up from talking about Minho, but you hardly mind.

"So, yes, it's weird. I know. But it's not my fault!" Hyunjin quickly scans the near-empty library at the raising of his voice. "Minho just keeps sending me you 'cuz he likes to tease me. That's all."

He stares at you and you stare back. A few seconds pass with quiet blinking before you realize you should say something.

"Oh."

Hyunjin groans, burying his beautiful face in his hands. You stare at his ashamed state, both pathetic and endearing. Truly, this isn't a big deal, but his dramatic reactions bring a small smile amidst the anxious atmosphere.

"So you think I'm pretty?" Hyunjin lets out a scoff, shaking his head at your question. "Is that really all you got from that?"

You shrug, but the smile on your lips still lingers. "Maybe. But that does sound annoying. I'm sure you get tired of looking at my pretty face all the time." Hyunjin laughs, finally picking his head up to look at you. His cheeks are flushed, his eyes like moon crescents. He gleams in the artificial lighting and it casts beautiful shadows on his features.

"Have you ever thought about getting back at Minho?"

Hyunjin stops his cheery laughter, eyes growing curious. He pinches his eyebrows together in thought, "I mean, does blocking count? Cuz if so, then yes."

You shake your head, lower lip caught between your teeth as a mischievous thought comes to mind. "I was thinking something a little more."

-

It's hard for Hyunjin to angle the camera at you. His hands keep shaking, the phone threatening to fall from his grasp right on your face. You're looking up at the lens from your knees, mouth full of cock. Your knees slightly ache from the bathroom tile floor, but you pay no mind. The main center of focus is quietly gagging on Hyunjin's length. That women's bathroom may be empty, but the sound of wet pops and smack echoes in the room rather embarrassingly. 

With a hard suck, you pull away from his cock. Hyunjin lets out a whine, hips shaking as you replace your mouth with your hand. 

"Are you getting my good angles?" You can't help but tease with swollen lips. Even in a messy state, he nods. You can't see his face, but you can see the black, tangled hair that moves. 

"Pretty," he chokes out as you pump him. " So so so pretty."

You flash your teeth at the camera, "Aw! Thanks. Do you think Minho will think so too?"

"Ye- Mmf!" He cuts himself off by pinching his lips. You've wrapped your lips around his girth again, sucking the tip while you stroke his shaft. He whines and whines, unable to stay quiet while staring at you through the phone. 

The video is wobbly but if he slows the footage down, he might be able to screenshot a few good frames. There's just something surreal about indirectly looking at your mouth take him inch by inch. It's like you're his personal pornstar, though he's keen on making sure little no one gets to see how good you look.

You relax the back of your throat, slowly pushing him deeper until his pubes barely tickle your nose. A soft gag comes from you, but you're determined on deep-throating him at least once. Hyunjin uses his free hand to brush a few strands from your face, coaxing you. You hum in appreciation and fit the last few bits.

Hyunjin's tip presses deep against the deepest part of you, pulsing from your tight throat. You can tell he's trying not to move, to fuck into your hot mouth to not overstimulate you. 

But he wants to. He can taste the orgasm on his tongue. So close, so warm, but you look so good with wide eyes. Tears brimming your lashes as you hollow your cheeks. 

Hyunjin moans, a long, drawled-out sound that makes him throw his head back. "Fuck. You're gonna make me cum." 

It's too difficult to speak, so you gently rock against his hips instead. As much as you would love for Hyunjin to bruise your mouth, this isn't the time. Right now, putting on a good show for the camera is your priority. To make sure you suck dick so good that Minho never bothers Hyunjin again with pictures.

His tip repeatedly hits the back of your throat, a little salty from the oozing precum. With one of your hands, you massage his balls. Hyunjin mewls at the sensation, toes curling in his shoes. His breath turns jagged, and now he can't help himself. His gentle hand turns rough as he reaches the back of your head. He makes a tight fist with your hair and drives his cock deep.

You gag, the tears finally falling from the relentless pace Hyunjin's set. He's already so close, you might as well let him use you.

"Look into the camera." Hyunjin's voice is rasp. While you were trying not to choke, your eyes were unfocused. Now you're trying desperately to look into the phone, mostly likely going cross-eyed from the force his his thrusts. 

His cock twitches in your mouth and you brace for the spurts of cum. Even as your prepare, you can't help the gurgled squeak you make on Hyunjin's cock at the salty release. He shoots his hot load down your throat, and all you can taste and feel is cum. Your hand tightens around his sack and they tense in your hold. 

He's moaning, panting like a dog behind the phone. Hyunjin gives a few more sloppy thrusts before pulling out, cum dribbling from the corner of your mouth. 

You groan as your throat empties, using your tongue to wipe the semen as Hyunjin's cock slowly goes down. Once the cum has collected, you flatten your tongue to give a good look to the camera before tucking your tongue in your mouth, swallowing.

"And, scene!"

note! I am in a but of a rut, but hopefully this'll help me get back on game!

[mbsneur]

Last Room Pt.3

Alexia Putellas x Reader

Summary: You hate alexia but your best friend Salma wants you to get along well with alexia

Warnings: PURE SMUT 18+

please read this text before going to the story

ease don't be so strict with me but rather write to me what I can do better or what you wished were different. also tell me if you find the story too long or too short.. Also write to me if you liked it. My requests are always open (and English is not my first language so don't be mad at me) and if you have any ideas for the future about who I should write please tell me… the topics I will choose by myself unless you have a request for one or two people I will Read everything.. in the next survey I will take a few ideas from the old survey and new ones…. now read and I hope you like it <33

You knew what Alexia meant by that, she slid away from your still shaking body to sit against the back of the bed. You wait for commands because you don't want to make her mad under any circumstances. You couldn't take your eyes off her, her cheekbones that were tense up with every word or Tense your gaze, her big eyes that look at your body from every part, her big hands that made you scream are now blue and tense, her lips that are swollen from you, everything about Alexia is perfect

In the next breath she tapped her thigh and you go over to her. You gave her a small kiss on her muscular thigh that twitched at the slightest movement. Alexia raised her hand around your jaw to make you look at her. "I want to see your ass when you eat me out so turn around baby "

she says commandingly, her eyes looking into yours. So you gave her one last painful kiss before swinging your one leg over her hips

you look towards the wall so your ass is completely on display for alexia you sat lightly on her stomach before she gives you a slap on the ass you let out a moan she grabs your ass and pushes you forward

"I want to know what you're capable of, you'll give your best you hear" She tells you in a rough tone and you bend over and spread her legs wider so you have more room to work. You place lots of kisses directly on her clit and she lets out a whimper. It wasn't loud, it was just very emotional You took her clit between your lips and gently sucked on it, causing Alexia to grab your ass harder, making you roll your eyes in pain

You reach into her thighs and rub your fingernails over them. Alexia makes noises that you secretly wanted to hear for a long time. She now grabs your ass with both hands and massages your butt. You moan into her pussy and her eyes start to flicker. You feel how close she's her legs bend and start to shake alexia's whimper turns into pleasure her hips rock slightly against your pussy and your tongue gets faster around her swollen clit alexia gets louder she slaps your ass hard

"you're doing so good baby Just like that, you're going to make me cum" she moans between hard breaths

After another short suck on her clitoris, she finally comes and rocks her orgasm out on your tongue. She taps your thigh to make it clear to you that you should stop. You slowly remove your mouth from her pussy and bite gently into her now tense thigh. She twitches lightly you put your head on her thigh out of breath alexia strokes your wet cunt you get wet again every touch from alexia makes you whimper she slowly inserts a finger into your dripping cunt you let out a deep groan and she pumps slowly but deeply and precisely into you she curls a finger deep inside you your fingernails are so deep in her thighs that she will definitely see it tomorrow "Alexia I need more please" you say and start kissing her thighs so you can suppress your loud moans

Alexia inserts another finger into you and it's not fast but deep. You slowly realize what she's planning to do. She pushes her fingers deeper and it feels like she's looking for something. You lose your breath and you notice the pressure deep inside you is increasing more and more "will you squirt for me baby? I want all your juices" she says and now circles your clitoris with her thumbs

your moans become louder and fill the whole room alexia feels how wet you are getting "ale- I've never do it before I don't know if I can do

that" you say in one breath

"shhh baby you can just relax, it'll happen on its own" says Alexia and tries to calm you down. You do your best to relax between Alexia's thighs but It's hard because you love the feeling of her fingers inside you. Alexia is good with her fingers. You know that she will achieve what she wants. You feel and hear how wet you are and Alexia starts to get a little faster and you start to get louder "Alexia no I feel it stop it's too intense fuck ale- I- fuck" you say because you think you'll pass out any minute

"you can relax I know you can" after a few more hard thrusts your whole body tenses up body and you let out a silent moan from your pussy now squirts liquid all over Alexia's face her face twists into a big grin your legs are shaking and you try to move away "Alexia fuck stop I can't take it anymore I'm s-„ You say, almost crying. Alexia starts to slow down

You are weak, your whole body is heavy. Alexia grabs your neck and pulls you onto your back. Your eyes are closed and your chest is slowly moving up and down. She gently kisses your face. Your eyes open slightly and you look directly at her." Are you okay?" She asks worriedly and with as much sensitivity as if she hadn't just rearranged your intestines. "I'm tired," you say, laughing slightly and brushing a few strands of hair out of her face. "How about I draw you a bath and see if I can and find something to eat," she asks you caringly. You nod eagerly and she gives you a gentle kiss

That was part 3 and I hope you enjoyed it. Do you want a part 4 or should that be the end? <33

[vampireids]

perfect stranger

summary: lauren reynolds is dead, emily prentiss along with her, and spencer finds himself alone, struggling and in need of company (smut, angst)

warnings: former emily prentiss/spencer reid, exploration of grief, references to addiction and divorce, spencer acts questionably in this but he's struggling so forgive him, reader has some backstory, reader is referred to with she pronouns and wears makeup and a skirt, reader smokes cigarettes, spencer POV (third person limited). very, very angsty.

word count: 7.8k

a/n: the first half of this is quite spencer/emily centric in its themes, but the second half focusses more on the reader character. reader means everything to me and i am cradling her so gently. posting on mobile so let me know if there are any formatting issues!

Three weeks since Emily Prentiss had died and taken half of Spencer Reid with her.

Three weeks.

Three weeks that tasted of ash and bile, where no matter how brightly the sun shone everything still looked grey, where every smile he passed on the street seemed to be mocking him.

He hadn't had an easy life, not by any standard, but even he had been unaware of just how keenly he could hurt, just how painful and violent breathing could be. It was an agony that seemed to persist beyond any capacity a human being could feasibly endure, a constant bleeding wound in the cavity of his chest.

It hadn't been long before daydreams of oblivion took hold of him. Murmurs of a phone number he couldn't forget as hard as he tried sounded in his mind, growing louder and louder as days went by. If he called it, he could remember peace. More crucially, he could forget everything. A call, a deal, a prick, a push, and every screaming agony in his mind could go away. The sweet, muggy bliss of a syringe of dreamless sleep. It would be so easy.

A disapproving voice in his head that sounded uncannily like Emily pleaded with him to resist the allure. She wouldn't want him to submit to the urge. She'd want him to withstand the pain, to feel the burn of grief boldly and without reprieve, to let time heal him with all the swiftness of a wounded sloth.

But it had been Emily who had loved him enough to keep him grounded and sober. And without her, how could he ever be strong enough to do it? The constant craving for quiet had been drowned out by the sounds of her soft sighs as his body pressed against her, by the consuming sensation of her around him and on top of him and in the beating heart in his chest.

And slowly, an idea formed. He couldn't have Emily anymore. But he could find something close enough. Some approximation to act as a temporary sigil to ward off the ghosts at his door. It had been an old coping mechanism he’d turned to in the early days of his sobriety. Nothing was more deadly to an addict than solitude, so he’d sought out company where he could get it, in faceless women in bar bathrooms and parked cars.

It had worked before, and it could work again.

At the very least, it forced him to shower and put on nice clothes, to brush his teeth and hair and remember the feeling of being alive. With his face clean and his body dressed, he could almost pass for human instead of the walking gaping wound he felt like.

The bar was an old favourite of his. The lights were dim and low, the music soft and unobtrusive. It wasn't any kind of high class establishment, but it didn't need to be for his purpose. With any luck, he wouldn't be here long.

He walked to the bar and ordered a neat whiskey. Drinking in his fragile state was unwise, but he needed to feel the burn of it sliding down his throat to remind him he was still capable of feeling anything but grief. After a bracing sip, he took a seat on a barstool and surveyed the milling revellers. They all seemed carefree and happy in a way he resented, drinking and laughing and dancing with one another, lovesick like he’d once been.

One woman caught his eye on the other end of the bar. She was alone, like him. Nursing whiskey neat like him. Seeming just lonely enough to make his own crushing solitude feel less isolating. She noticed him watching her and smiled, a coy edge to it that made heat start to simmer in the core of him.

She wasn't Emily, but she had a similar fire in her eyes, the same challenge in her smile, a striking beauty to her face that stung as much as it excited.

If he could find her beautiful, then beauty was still attainable to him. Things could still be wonderful in some far off life.

He was so lost in his thoughts he didn't notice she'd stood, approaching him and sitting in the stool beside him.

“Waiting for someone?” she asked softly.

Yes, he thought, I’m waiting for Emily, and I’ll be waiting for as long as I live.

But for tonight, he would temporarily cease his waiting. So he smiled, shook his head, and said. “No. Are you?”

She grinned at him, and the expression was so reminiscent of Emily's sly smiles that it hurt. “I was. But I think I found what I was waiting for.”

The line was so cheesy and silly he couldn't help but huff out a laugh. “And what would that be?”

“Someone pretty. Someone who looks like they might have stories to tell.” She tilted her head. “You know anyone like that?”

“I might,” he shrugged. “I’m Spencer.”

She told him her name and he barely heard it but he knew he wouldn't forget it. He knew he was supposed to say something, so he breathed, “that's a beautiful name. It suits you.”

Her smile was like the sun and he almost believed he could feel warm again. “You're not so bad yourself.”

He’d never grown used to accepting a compliment so he ducked his head to hide his face. She was already talking again, saving him from the awkwardness of knowing how to reply.

“What brought you here tonight?”

The truth wasn't something he was ready to share with a stranger. He approximated it with, “I’m looking to feel a little less alone.”

Her hand on his was soft and warm. “What a coincidence. I’m here for the same thing.”

He couldn't fathom someone like her, so beautiful and confident and with such a warm presence, being lonely. So he raised his eyebrows. “You're really wanting for company?”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” she laughed. “But yes. I am wanting for company. I just moved here.”

“What made you move here?”

“Nothing special about here. I needed to leave my life behind and threw a dart at a map of the states and moved where it landed. Well, technically it landed on Virginia, but I overruled that. This was close enough.”

Needed to leave her life behind.

She'd said it casually, but it was an interesting thing to note. Like him, she was lost, alone, hiding from something. Seeking comfort in the arms of strangers who wouldn’t stick around to fix her messes. He hummed thoughtfully. “Running from something?”

With a shrug, she murmured, “aren’t we all?”

“Most people,” he conceded.

“You?”

“I don’t like to think I am. But I don’t think I’d be here tonight if I wasn’t.”

She smiled at him slightly. He was only just starting to realise what else about the smile reminded him of Emily - the slight undercurrent of sadness to it. “That’s the nice thing about running.” she said after a pause. “Sometimes you look up and realise your feet took you somewhere good without you even realising it.”

“Are you somewhere good?”

“You’ll have to tell me,” she said softly, and leaned forwards, capturing his mouth in a kiss.

It took a moment for his brain to catch up with his situation before he was kissing her back. She tasted like whiskey, fiery and hot and intoxicating. He reached his palm up to rest it on her cheek and she made a soft noise of encouragement, sliding her tongue into his mouth.

The angle of it was awkward, their bodies angled towards each other and hanging off their barstools, but it didn’t make the kiss any less dizzying. It wasn’t Emily, no way to pretend for even a second it was, the taste of her and the shape of her and the feeling of her were all different. But it didn’t matter. It was company, and she was beautiful, and he knew in his heart Emily would want him to do this. She’d want him to find something that would help ease the pain. She would never want him to be lonely.

She pulled away and he gasped.

“Do you want to get out of here?” she asked breathlessly.

He nodded desperately, wrapping his hand around her wrist. “Yes. Please.”

“My place okay?”

“Yes. That’s perfect. Let’s go.”

She picked up her glass of whiskey and motioned for him to do the same. As soon as he did she wrapped her arm around his and linked them at the elbow, holding her drink aloft. It took a second to realise what she wanted, and when he did, he grinned. It was silly, childish, exactly what he needed. She nodded at him and, arms interlocked, they downed their drinks in unison. The liquor burned his throat like a sip of liquid flame and he struggled to keep his mouth neutral as he swallowed, watching as she wrinkled her nose. He couldn’t help his huffed laugh, giddy with the drink and the company.

She led him out of the bar, weaving them around the huddles of drunks and tables of friends in silence, and pounding guilt nestled behind his chest. Three weeks since the death of his lover, and he’d already found his way into the arms of someone else. What kind of man was he? Was his loyalty so thin?

But she turned towards him, glancing back with a mischief in her eyes that was achingly, throbbingly familiar, and he couldn’t make himself pull away.

He wasn’t a man of God. He didn’t believe Emily was watching down on him, in pain at the thought of him with another woman. She was simply gone. He couldn’t live for a ghost he didn’t believe in.

It was all hollow justification, really, convincing himself it wasn’t wrong to do the thing he already knew he would do. Her pulse under his fingertips was thrumming and alive, the sign of a heart that could pump blood and skin that was flush with warmth, and he needed to feel that. He needed to want something that could want him back.

The air was chilled as they stepped outside into the street and he stumbled into her as she came to a sudden stop. She giggled softly and wrapped her arm around him, steadying him and pulling him softly against her. Her body was a column of heat beside him, every breath she took causing her chest to rise and fall against him. Living, living, so alive, something real, something tangible. He’d known this woman all of 10 minutes and he loved her as much as he hated her for simply being alive.

It wasn’t fair on this poor woman, this beautiful woman, this kind woman to be drawing these constant comparisons. That thought, more than any other, almost gave him pause. He vowed to want her for what she was and not what she wasn’t. She was sweet, beautiful, haunted, said he had pretty eyes and looked like someone with stories. She had soft skin and lovely eyes, a smile that held secrets and promises that he wouldn’t get to know. He could want her for that.

She swung out her arm and a taxi pulled in beside them and they stumbled into the taxi, their bodies never leaving each other until she shuffled across the seat to the other side. Even then, her hand stayed on his arm and he revelled in the touch. She leaned forwards to share her address with the taxi driver and they drove into the night, the flickering street lights casting shadows on her face.

He couldn’t help it, he leaned forwards to kiss her again. Her lips were a temporary oblivion, something consuming to drown out the noise of his grief. A comfort in company, a reminder he wasn’t as alone as he felt. The guilt bubbling in his stomach was dulled by the softness of her lips, the gentle movement of her tongue, the sharp bite of her teeth on his lower lip. So different to Emily. Not different enough.

No.

She was her own person.

He pulled away with a gasp, her chest heaving to match his own.

“You’re good at that,” she mumbled.

He moved his thumb across her cheek. “So are you.”

She smiled and kissed him again, and he let himself sink into it, to feel the heat of another person against him, to let the sensations wash over him and through him and stir those familiar desires beneath his skin.

It was a quick taxi to her apartment and then he staggered onto the sidewalk like a man intoxicated. He was dizzy, though he only had the one drink. On a street he’d never been on before despite his years in the city, the buildings unfamiliar, his companion a stranger, and he felt like someone totally different. Someone else. Someone who could be casual and silly and risky and stupid. Not Spencer Reid. Not the grieving man.

His alienation from himself would be frightening if he had the fortitude to care. Instead, he called it a blessing and let his beautiful stranger pull him up the stairs.

Her apartment was four flights up, and by the time they reached her door, he was breathless. She laughed at the pink on his cheeks and he felt a hum of embarrassment course through him.

“Not laughing at you, baby, I promise,” she murmured as she turned to unlock the door. The term of endearment sent something hot running through his veins and his face only got warmer.

The door was pushed open, and she waited for him to enter before shutting it behind her.

Another moment of guilt and hesitation threatened to break him and he drowned it out by pulling her closer and capturing her mouth in a desperate kiss. She made a soft noise of surprise against him before melting into it, bringing her hand up to rest on his shoulder and pressing herself against him. It was soft and sweet and nothing he needed it to be so he deepened it, pressed her against the wall to gain the leverage to kiss her roughly. She let out another low sound of pleasure and it emboldened him, gave him the courage he needed to guide his hand up her thigh and under her skirt, running his fingertips along her hip.

She threw her head back with a soft “fuck,” letting her head rest against the wall as he moved his hand from resting on her hip to tracing over the line of her underwear and brought it down until it was ghosting along her core.

Her softness, pliability, was intoxicating and so different from what he was used to. Emily gave as good as she got, was bared teeth and strength and only going down with a fight. His beautiful stranger seemed happy to let him control the night, and he was grateful for it in that moment, grateful for the opportunity to have the control in the bedroom he’d lost over his life.

She gripped onto his shoulders hard as he pushed the panties aside and ran his fingers over the exposed flesh, spreading the accumulated arousal and circling over the sensitive nub at her apex.

He attached his lips to her neck, grazing his teeth across her collarbone and drinking in the sounds she made as he slowly inserted one finger, and then a second.

“Baby, god, feels so good,” she mumbled above him and the praise went straight to his cock, the taste of her skin against his tongue and the feeling of her around his fingers creating a dizzying cocktail of arousal in his abdomen. He was making her feel good, he was capable of creating pleasure in another, he could do something right even if his life felt wrong and hollow. He clung to that knowledge as he sucked a mark into her neck and basked in her whines.

Years of magic tricks gave him agile hands, a skill at profiling let him read a woman’s pleasure in her gasps and twitches, and it wasn't long before her moans were heightening in pitch and volume and her nails were pressing into his shoulders desperately. He felt a glow of pride as she came undone around him, moaning his name in shaking cadence. He pulled his fingers from her carefully and felt a bolt of arousal at the sight of her, her skirt rucked up around her waist, her cheeks pink and her eyeliner smudged.

“You have wonderful hands,” she murmured after a few moments of loaded silence.

He laughed roughly. “I’ve been told that before,” he mumbled, and didn't mention the woman who’d told him.

“Let me make you feel good too, baby,” she said, and her widened eyes and desperate tone made it sound very much like a plea.

His head was spinning, body alight with lust, too full of want for the guilt to make a dent, and he nodded. He was sick, sick, sick in the head, his agreement a condemnation of himself, and so he nodded.

“Yes. Yes, okay. Let's go to the bedroom,” he tried to speak through the dizzy desire and warring self-loathing and his voice came out thin.

She frowned, eyes big and concerned and placed her hand on his cheek. “Are you okay, baby? You don't have to do anything you don't want to.”

He shook his head almost violently, causing her hand to drop to his shoulder. He felt its absence like a wound. “No. Please. I want this, I want you.”

She still looked hesitant so he kissed her, feeling the tension leave her body as his tongue explored her mouth. The relief of her wordless acquiescence was physical. He needed this, he needed her, he needed his life to dissolve in a melody of moans until he couldn't remember anything but the present, until everything faded but touch and heat and want.

He couldn't bear the weight of his mind alone. She might be a stranger, but he needed her. And curse Emily's voice in his head chiding him softly both for using this poor woman and for so quickly finding solace in the body of another. He was using her, sure, but she was using him too. It wasn’t like she was in love with him, and he wasn’t in love with her either. It was a one night stand, not marriage. And he and Emily had never labelled their relationship, had never been able to communicate well enough to even discuss exclusivity and all of that aside, she was fucking dead so really she’d left him first and didn’t have the right to be judging him.

He was talking so much to the Emily in his head he was starting to remember that he was still in the window for schizophrenia. 

He kissed the woman more desperately, drowning out that thought. She made a keening, broken sound against him, and it temporarily brought him to the present. 

He took a hold of her wrist, still resting against his collarbone and stumbled back. “Bedroom, please,” he begged, too far gone to be self-conscious of the pleading tone. 

She smiled, her pupils blown wide and her lips darkened from the bruising force of the kiss. “Come on, baby.”

She took a stumbling step towards him and he felt a surge of pride he’d taken her apart so thoroughly. He was still a man, after all, and she was a woman, a stupidly beautiful woman he was undeserving of, and it felt good to know he was bringing her pleasure. 

He let himself be led like a lamb by its shepherd to her bedroom. It was clean, minimal, the bedroom of a flight risk who didn’t want anything tying them down. No photographs, no personal effects, nothing in the room that didn’t serve a utility. 

The profiler in his brain was switched off by her hands moving to the buttons of his shirt, undoing them with nimble fingers. Once his shirt hung loose, her touch moved to his bare chest, tracing across the planes of his torso. He felt unavoidably self-conscious under her scrutiny, but she looked at him with such a heat in her eyes he couldn’t help but know she wanted him as much as he wanted her.

He still wanted to know what demons had led her to him, to seeking solace in the arms of a man she didn’t know, but he shoved the thought down. She was well within her right to want a one night stand, she didn’t have to be damaged just because he was. And besides, she’d started removing her own shirt, and it was hard to think about anything other than her chest, framed by a delicate black brassiere.

She caught his heated gaze because she laughed softly. “Like what you see, baby?”

He nodded stupidly. “God, so much.”

And then she was kissing him, walking him backwards towards the bed where he was all too happy to go.

His knees hit the back of the bed and he dropped onto it, looking up at her as she undid the button fastening her skirt and let it fall to the floor. Her underwear matched the bra, and she wore them well, the lines and curves of her silhouette enough to intoxicate him. He leaned forwards to kiss her abdomen softly and she gasped. Their positioning, her above him with his head against her stomach, was some strange parody of worship. In a way, she was a god to him. He was giving himself as an offering in futile hope of salvation, devoting himself to a beautiful concept of a woman. She was nothing real and everything wonderful. A perfect stranger.

Her hands wove themselves into his hair and he groaned out his oblation into her skin.

“I need you, baby, please,” she whispered into the still air of the room, and he was her willing servant.

He sat back, and before his hands could reach down to unfasten his pants, she was undoing them for him, her fingers trembling as she fiddled with his button and then his fly.

There was something unsettling about her movements, and he stilled. “You okay?” he murmured.

“Yeah. Yeah, just want you,” she mumbled as he shimmied out of his pants.

There was something she wasn’t telling him, but he didn’t have time to ask before she was dropping to straddle his lap, his cock only separated from her arousal by the flimsy fabric of their undergarments. He might have been a genius, but even he found it hard to think about anything much with a woman in his lap, her hips shifting against his and sending his senses into overdrive.

He begged a silent plea of forgiveness to the Emily in his head. She remained stonily silent. He took it as permission and put his hands around the waist of his perfect stranger, using his leverage to twist them both until she was lying beneath him on the bed.

“You’re beautiful,” he said softly, and the tender words felt like more of a betrayal than the sex.

“So are you,” she whispered, and he kissed her gently. The kiss was short, chaste, before his lips were moving - kissing down her jaw, the column of her throat, her chest, her abdomen, her stomach. She gasped softly as he reached the waistband of her panties, and he lingered there just a moment, looking up at the rapt expression on her face.

He noticed, not for the first time, how very sad she looked behind the desire. Maybe she knew he was thinking about someone else. More likely, she was thinking about someone else. It wasn’t his business. He understood what it was like to need to drown out the ghosts.

It was the echo of that thought that played in his head as he slowly pulled down her panties. Drown the ghost, make her feel good, bask in the warmth of another, remember what it means to live and breathe and feel. Simple instructions, a defined victory condition, something black and white and real. He tossed her underwear aside and looked up at her, propped up on her shoulders to watch as he exposed her.

He must have stayed there a moment too long, because she made a soft, plaintive sound and mumbled, “Baby, please. Don’t tease me.”

“Sorry,” he grinned, not sorry at all if it made her call him baby in that desperate, whining voice, and licked a stripe up her core.

She made a harsh, pleading noise at the contact, and he felt it like lightning under his skin. He pushed away the thoughts of the sounds Emily had once made, and moved to suck gently on her clit, summoning more sweet whines from her lips.

Her hands came down to twist in his hair and he groaned against her. He felt hot, shivery, alternating waves of lust and guilt rocking through him like a boat tossed about through the surf. Something about the sheer wrongness of it was only heightening his desire. His grief was getting tangled in his need and his body was turning all of it into heat and want.

Eventually, she gasped raggedly and used her grip on his hair to pull him off of her, looking down at him with eyes turned the inky black shade of lust. “Need you, now, please, baby,” she groaned, and what man could say no to that?

He nodded, dizzy and hazy, and lifted himself onto his knees. “Condom?” he managed to force out through the white noise of his mind, and she sat up to lean over to her bedside drawer, rifling through a little box to pull out a Trojan.

He pulled off his own underwear hastily as she unwrapped it, and hissed as she leaned forwards to roll it onto him. He hadn’t realised how hard he was until her soft hands were ghosting over him, and the touch felt like little lines of fire over his skin. He groaned thickly and let his head fall back as she stroked him experimentally over the latex.

He didn’t want to wait any longer, couldn’t risk being still when the thoughts of everything he was hiding from could come back. Emily was being quiet in his skull, probably furious at his betrayal, but it was still quiet, no voice in his head but his own. So, he gently pushed her back until she was lying against the pillow, and put his weight on one arm as he guided himself to the centre of her arousal. He teased for a bit, sliding his length along her a few times to hear her breath hitch.

Finally, slowly, he pushed in, his eyelids fluttering as he was constricted by the tightness inside of her. It hadn’t even been that long since he’d had sex, but after years of having it almost daily, his body had grown accustomed to a certain frequency, and the tight heat felt like home.

As soon as he was fully immersed inside her, he let out a ragged, hoarse groan. Her own thin whine was in harmony with his, the musicality of their pleasure intertwining as their bodies did.

His vision blurred as he started to move, the friction sending sparks up through his skin as she gasped his name underneath him.

“Oh, fuck, Emily,” he groaned in return.

He didn’t realise what he’d done until she stilled completely under him.

“Emily?” she said quietly.

It was like a bucket of ice water had been thrown over him, every nerve going dead with the shock.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, and it felt so inadequate to the scale of his mistake.

She swallowed under him, her throat bobbing. Something was playing out behind her eyes, something not even years of profiling could clue him into. Eventually, she shook her head, the movement minute.

“It’s okay,” she said softly. “I understand. I can be Emily. If that’s what you need, I can be Emily.”

The words broke his heart. Who was this woman? Who had broken her down to the point she was willing to contort herself to be another woman for a man she’d never met?

He shook his head. “No. You’re not Emily. You’re you, and that’s a good thing to be. Don’t- you don’t- I’m an asshole. My head is a mess right now, it’s nothing to do with you. You’re wonderful, you’re beautiful, you’re kind. I want you.

She smiled thinly and brought her hand up to rest against his face. “It’s okay, baby. It’s one night. I’m whoever you want me to be, okay? Whatever you need. Let me take care of you.”

He groaned slightly, a war in his torso as her words cast a sick sort of spell on him. The person he wanted to be fought the battle, screamed at him that she obviously had her own demons, that he’d be taking advantage of what must be a self-esteem issue, to be allowing him - asking him - to pretend she was another woman. “It’s not right,” he mumbled.

“Does that really matter?” she whispered. “No one’s watching. I’m saying it’s okay.”

“Why?” he said desperately. “Why would that be okay?”

“We’re using each other, that’s all this is, right? I don’t know your life or your last name or your job or your friends, you’re whoever I want you to be tonight. I can be whoever you need me to be. It’s only fair.”

Her words made a strange sort of sense, or maybe he was choosing to believe that to stymie the guilt bubbling behind his ribs. He was using her, plain and simple, no matter whose name he was saying. If she didn’t care, why should he?

Because you’re better than that, the Emily in his head murmured disapprovingly. But who was she to talk when she’d left him all alone, when she’d lied to all of them to follow a terrorist without thinking of the wound she’d be leaving behind. So he nodded. “Okay. Okay. Are you… Do you want me to keep going?”

“Yes. Please,” she said, eyes big and pleading, and he gave only another cursory thought to wondering if she was okay before starting to move again. She wasn’t Emily, there wasn’t really a way to pretend that she was, unless he closed her eyes and that seemed too sick even for him. But the feeling of it all was still so achingly familiar - the heat, the tightness, the slick sounds of bodies connecting and the shaking gasps of pleasure.

He couldn’t pretend she was Emily, but he could pretend he loved her and she loved him. And with the way she looked at him, her jaw slack in ecstasy and her pupils blown with lust, it wasn’t hard. She looked beautiful, genuinely divine in the throes of her desire, in that way people only do at their most unrestrained. He leaned forwards and kissed her, drinking in the sounds she made against his lips and revelling in her hand gripping his shoulder like he was a lifeline, the thread connecting her to reality.

“Baby, oh, baby, I’m close, please, just like that, fuck,” the words were mumbled against his lips, garbled among gasps and soft whines, and it took a moment to decipher what she was saying. But once he’d decoded it, he glowed in his pride.

“Come for me whenever you want to, sweetheart,” he groaned, “Let me make you feel good.”

His tone was tender, fragile, delicate, the words of lovers and not strangers, and maybe that was the fantasy he was fulfilling with her. One where he loved freely and received it in return like he never could with Emily and her shroud of secrets. He’d pretended with her, and he was pretending again now, playing the role like he was born for it.

And when, maybe seconds or years later, her noises climbed in pitch and she tightened around him, he pushed her hair out of her face gently and fucked her like he knew her beyond the feeling of her body and the sounds of her bliss.

Her nails dug into him, and she called him, “baby,” again in that sweet, overwhelmed voice, and it was that which pushed him over the edge to his own undoing, his rhythm faltering and stuttering as he twitched inside of her.

This, the release, the moment where the world stopped and all he could feel was beautiful, perfect pleasure, was why he'd gone out tonight. A simulacrum of hydromorphone all released in one, lovely moment. One addiction swapped for another, oblivions traded. Her hand ghosted back over his cheekbone as he slowed and stopped, his head leaning into her palm as he stilled.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he laughed, breathlessly, smoothing out her hair before pulling out of her with a wince.

She sat up and watched as he tied off the condom. “I know, but I want to. I needed this. Let me take that, I’ll bin it in the bathroom.”

He smiled weakly and handed it to her, watching as she walked into the little ensuite next to the room. She shut the door behind her, and he sat awkwardly for a moment, his nakedness suddenly visceral in the solitude of another person’s bedroom. He stood and found his underwear, discarded next to the bed, shimmying into them as he waited for her to be done. He never knew what to do in this part, never knew the etiquette of the afterglow. Eventually, he heard the toilet flushing and the sound of the tap running, and she emerged from the bathroom clad in a short white satin robe, tied loosely at the waist.

“I’m going to have a cigarette,” she said with a little smile. “Care to join me?”

“Yeah. Yeah, sure,” he said, his voice hoarse, and followed her outside to the balcony. It was nice, a wrought iron railing shielding them from falling into the city skyline, two chairs nestled around a small round glass table. On it lay a crystalline ashtray, stained with dead embers, and a small pack of Marlboro Golds.

She sat on the far chair, motioning for him to sit too, and picked up the pack, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it up. She took a long drag and let her head fall back as she exhaled the smoke.

“I know it’s a bad habit,” she said quietly. “But I can’t bring myself to quit.”

He tilted his head as he watched her take another drag. “I used to tell my mother every cigarette she smoked was 6 less minutes she’d get to spend with me.”

“The way I live my life, I’m not expecting that to be an issue,” she shrugged.

“How do you live your life to expect to die young?”

She gestured at him. “Bringing strange men I meet while alone at a bar to my apartment, for one,” she deadpanned, and he couldn’t help his exhale of a laugh.

“Mm, touche, I suppose,” he sighed. “What makes you like it?”

She raised her eyebrows. “The cigarettes or the strange men?”

“Both, I guess.”

“It’s the same reason for both. Makes me feel like I have some control over things. Forces me to… confront my mortality, to get comfortable with the idea of death. It can’t scare me if I’m inviting it.”

He frowned. “You’re suicidal?”

A long pause where she seemed to be thinking, her eyes fixed on the twinkling lights of the city around them. “No. I’m not. But I’ve spent a lot of time living in fear of things that are inevitable, and I’m tired of that.”

He couldn’t help himself from wanting to pry. It was like that, sometimes, in the afterglow of sex. After the intimacy, the bedroom could become a confessional. “What inevitabilities are you scared of?”

She sighed and took another drag of the cigarette. “I married my high school sweetheart a year after we graduated. Our relationship was… fine. Good. He was the only man I’d ever been with, the only one I knew how to be with. Even when I knew he was having an affair, I couldn’t bring myself to let go of him. He was an asshole, sometimes, and a cheat, but sometimes he was so wonderful. He worked and supported us the whole time I was in college, he’d plan these extravagant dates and trips for us, always remembered birthdays and anniversaries. And I’d been with him since I was so young, I didn’t even know who I was if I wasn’t his wife. Even when I knew he didn’t love me anymore and I barely loved him, I stuck around. In the end, he left me. He got the other woman pregnant and owned up to everything I already knew. I didn’t even have the guts to tell him that none of it was news, because I felt so pathetic for tolerating it. That night, I quit my job, threw a dart at a map and moved here. Just like that. I didn’t want to be scared anymore. I wanted to just… live.”

He was quiet for a long time. “I’m sorry,” he said eventually, and it was a pale pleasantry against the scale of her admission.

“It’s okay,” she murmured. “Not like it’s your fault. Just illustrating the point. I knew the relationship was over years before it actually was. But I was so scared of the unknown I refused to admit it. I’m not going to do that anymore.”

“That’s a good philosophy,” he said softly.

She smiled at him, the look stained with melancholy. “Yeah, I like to think so.”

The silence dragged, unobtrusive and comfortable as she ashed her cigarette and lit up a second. “Who’s Emily?” she asked eventually, and he startled.

He watched her hands as she let the cigarette dangle between her fingers. “It’s a long story.”

“I have time,” she pressed. “Story for a story.”

“I have a… stressful job. One where I have to travel a lot. And I had a coworker, Emily. We started sleeping together as a way to let off steam on tough days. I fell in love with her. I think she loved me too. We never said it. She’s a… flight risk, I guess, runs away at the first sign of anything emotionally scary, and any time things between us got too real, she’d freeze me out. I learned to keep my feelings to myself. But I was in love with her. There’s nothing I wouldn’t have done to keep her near me.”

“That’s hard,” his perfect stranger murmured. “Where is she now?"

“She’s dead,” he said flatly, as if keeping the emotions from his voice would stop it from hurting him. “She was murdered.”

“Oh,” she said softly. “Fuck, that’s- I’m sorry. That’s horrible.”

He shook his head, the ugly bitterness in his chest building up and spilling from his mouth. “She knew. She knew he was coming after her, she knew what he was capable of, and she never told me. I could have done something, and she took that chance away from me. And I’m so angry at her, but I can’t be angry at her because she’s gone. What use is it being furious with a ghost?”

“It’s normal to have mixed feelings when a loved one dies, baby,” she says softly. “In a way, she left you, even if she didn’t want to. It’s hard. It’s a breakup with no room for self-reflection and no way to change things. The loss of your future and the shadow over the past. There’s a lot of different stuff going on in your head right now. There’s no wrong way to feel about it all.”

He knew that, was intellectually versed on the complications and machinations of grief. He’d seen all kinds of people in the throes of their losses - mothers who’d lost children when their last words had been in anger, husbands whose wives had stormed out and never made it home to talk it out, children who’d snuck out and returned to find their parents dead. He was acquainted with the intricate weaving of love and guilt and grief, had read every study on managing loss, had sat in the room with countless people in the seconds after learning their loved one had been taken from them.

And yet, there still lingered a revolting feeling of wrongness in his grief. For all that he knew the way he was behaving and feeling and coping was normal - all of it, the sex, the cravings, the depression, the bitter, cruel anger - he couldn't help but sink into the belief he was wrong for all of it.

But the look on her face, wide eyed and earnest, her brows slightly furrowed as she watched him intensely, made him believe her. This was a woman acquainted with loss, he could tell. He didn't have to pry to know that. She understood him in a way the journal articles didn't quite seem to.

Maybe, for all his overreliance on academia to navigate the world, he needed people like everyone else did. Emily had taught him that loving was worth the agony of losing.

He was quiet for a while, thinking through her words.

“Why were you willing to pretend to be her?” he asked.

She pursed her lips. “I liked what we were doing. I didn’t want you to stop. And you seemed like you needed it.”

“That's it? I mean, I called you the wrong name, I would assume that would be a dealbreaker for anyone.”

“I'm not under any illusions about what this was. It was a beautiful thing, but nothing to do with who I am or who you are and what we deserve. Just… people fucking for the sake of it, like they’ve done through all of human history. I wanted it to be good for you, just like I could tell you wanted it to be good for me. It makes it feel better if you're both getting what you want. And I've been a lot of people for a lot of people. It doesn't bother me.”

It still didn't seem quite right to him, but he nodded anyway. He just watched her for a moment, watched the movement of her irises as she looked at the shimmering skyline of the city, the careless elegance of her cigarette drags, the way her robe split over where she crossed her legs to reveal the soft skin of her thighs. She seemed solid in a way he deeply envied, a steady contrast to his own flickering identity.

“Thank you,” he said softly before he even thought the words. “Tonight could have been a bad night. But it wasn't. This has been the easiest night since-” he swallowed, stopping the thought there. “I feel… lighter.”

She made a quiet humming noise in response. “I feel the same. You're a nice person to be around, baby.”

He flushed a little at the endearment, a little token of affection she seemed so at ease sharing. She was a forthcoming person, he was noticing - quick to give. Her thoughts, her kindness, her love. It was an interesting counterweight against a scarcity in her home that spoke to solitude and distance. In just the short time he'd known her, she had shown her share of little contradictions. Clearly self-assured, but willing to pretend to be another woman to please a stranger. Clearly loving, but isolated and lonely.

Before he could stop himself, he said, “I'd like to get to know you better.”

The statement was innocent - he truly meant exactly what he said. She was, in many ways, fascinating to him, and solving her was a welcome distraction from trying to solve his own issues. He liked being around her. But her eyes widened and then crinkled sadly.

“I'm not- you're sweet, baby, and you're handsome, too. Your Emily was lucky to have you. But I'm not ready to be anyone's love anytime soon. And I don’t think you're ready for that either.”

He shook his head. “Oh! No, I didn’t mean- no, I'm not ready for anything like that, I'm- I just meant… I don’t have many friends, or at least friends who didn't know her. And you said at the bar you were lonely too, and I just thought- I'd like to be your friend. If that's okay with you.”

She looked at him for a while, as if trying to find a double meaning behind his irises. Then, wonderfully, she nodded, her lips quirking up at the edges. “I'd like that, baby. Let’s be friends.”

He felt a strange sense of gratefulness bubble in his chest. This could be something good, even if it came from something bad. He held out a hand to shake. “Friends.”

She shook it with a little laugh. “Friends.”

Trying his luck, he added, “And if friends involves doing,” he gestured back towards the bedroom, “that, I wouldn't complain.”

She raised her eyebrows and ashed her cigarette. “Give me a second to brush my teeth and we can demo it, try out our new friendship arrangement?”

He nodded quickly. “Yes. Please. In the name of trial and error, I think we should definitely do that.”

She stood and leaned over to kiss him gently on the forehead. “Wait for me in the bedroom, baby. We've got some friendship to do.”

He watched her go inside. her robe swaying softly with her movements. Emily was quiet in his head, but the silence didn't feel reproachful. He allowed the grief to take hold of him for a second.

And then he followed the perfect stranger inside.