#they were pushing something. i dont know what but something | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

eelliotss · 1 day ago

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— Borrowed time, part 2

‼️Caleb x reader x Sylus. Reader not MC. University AU. Modern AU. Angst angst angst! Maybe some suggestive content.

Everyone knows Caleb is in love with MC. Everyone. Including you. But that does not stop him from flirting with you, teasing you, keeping you close. And it definitely does not stop you from falling for him—even when you know you’re just a stand-in, a place holder.

“As much as he was lost in his fantasy, you were lost in yours.”

word count = 5.3k

The story was getting too long so I had to cut it here. I wasn’t able to get to the part I wanted to write the most 😭 Anyways, thank you so much for the love for part one. I dont know if this will be what people are expecting, but here’s part two!

Part 1

Sunlight nudges your eyelids, casting faint golden lines across the sheets. The distant hums of birds drift through the open window, soft and unintrusive. You nuzzle your head deeper into the pillow, pulling the blanket closer to yourself, chasing the last traces of warmth, the remnants of a fading dream.

Your fingers twitch against the fabric, pressing into the wrinkled sheets where someone else had just been hours ago. The presence of his weight, his warmth, his scent still lingers.

Your eyes flutter open—slow, reluctant—only to be greeted by the same usual scene, an inevitable reality.

An empty bed. A hollow space where his warmth was.

You—alone, on one side of the massive bed with an empty space beside reserved for his embrace. You—alone, pushed to the edge, as if the night had already decided for you where you belonged.

The scenes of last night slowly return.

•

The sharp, electrical beep of your lock rang through your room, quickly followed by a soft twist of the doorknob and the slow creak of the door swinging open. The scent of his faint cologne—that same warm amberwood and spiced vanilla, a scent that brings you so much comfort as much as it guts your insides out—woven with the sharp bite of alcohol slowly filled your space.

He stepped inside.

Uninvited. But he never needed an invitation, did he?

His footsteps were slow, unsteady, the weight of exhaustion—or maybe something deeper—dragging him down. You didn’t have to turn to know he ran a hand through his hair, exhaling, like the world had finally let him breathe.

You’d like to think it was because he found peace in your space.

Your space.

And then, the bed dipped.

Warm fingers brushed against your skin. A touch so light, so fleeting, that you could almost believe it was an accident.

“Yn,” he whispered into your ear. A whisper so low you could’ve missed it as a breath.

“I know you’re still up.”

Your stomach tightened.

It was one of those nights again.

For a second—just a second—you considered keeping still. But he was almost like gravity. You couldn’t get away, no matter how much you want or try to.

You slowly, cautiously, rolled over, your gaze meeting his.

His face was half-lit by the dim glow of the city slipping through the window, his features softened by the kind of exhaustion that sat deeper than just the body.

His eyes searched yours.

For what, you didn’t know. Perhaps you didn’t want to know.

He was close. Close enough that the scent he carried clung to the air between you. Close enough that even in the dark, you could see the way his lashes cast soft shadows over his cheekbones. Close enough to see his shaky breaths.

He always looked at you with those hazy eyes on nights like these. Those violet orbs peered through you, unfocused. It’s a look you learned to despise, one you realized he was looking but not seeing you.

His arm wrapped around your waist, firm and sure. The heat of this body sank into yours, his breath soft.

His fingers ghosted over your skin, tracing slow, deliberate paths up your body. His hand found its place on your chin.

A light tilt—gentle, almost careful.

Your breath hitched.

No matter how many times this happened, no matter how many nights he came to you like this—he never failed to unravel you. Never failed to make you feel like this—like an uncontrollable mess, caught between wanting him and knowing better.

His lips moved against yours, slow, deliberate, consuming. Soft. Too soft. Like a secret, a hesitation, like something that wasn’t meant to happen but was happening anyway.

Your fingers curled into the sheets, grasping for something—anything— to keep you grounded as his warmth enveloped you. His hand slid down, brushing along the line of your jaw and settling at the back of your neck, pulling you closer.

Heat flared through you as he deepened the kiss, his fingers threading through your hair, tugging just enough to make you gasp.

A low, satisfied sound rumbled in his chest as his lips moved down your jaw, trailing lower, lower—

And then he bit down.

A sharp gasp tore from your lips as his teeth pressed into your skin, that same damn place he had always known was your weak spot, not enough to hurt, but enough to brand.

He soothed the bite with the heat of his mouth, tongue gliding over the mark he left behind before pulling you impossibly closer.

He mumbled something incoherent against your skin, his voice low, rough, lost in his own mind and the intoxication of your warmth on him.

No conversations really took place on nights like these.

His fingers dragged down your spine, slow and deliberate, knowing, like he’d done it too many times before.

Like he knew you wouldn’t stop him.

And god—you didn’t want him to.

Not when he kissed you like this, when his hands wandered, claimed, and possessed.

And when he pulled back just slightly—lips barely brushing against yours—

You chased him.

Through the shared night, the shared heat and pleasure, the shared intimacy—you heard him whisper.

“Michaela.”

The first time you heard it, you almost thought you were imagining things.

A trick of the mind. A slip of exhaustion. A moment of overthinking creeping in.

But then you heard him say it again.

And again.

Over and over again.

Between his grunts and breaths, between the quiet murmurs against your skin, between the moments where his body sought yours with something that almost felt like desperation, he said her name.

His eyes were half-lidded, his mind gone, lost in the haze of desperation, exhaustion, and longing.

For MC.

For Michaela Carter.

For her.

It has always been her.

You should push him away. His touch should be revolting on your skin. Her name leaving his lips should bring bile up to your throat. Rage should burn through your veins, violent and unrelenting, until the mere thought of him sickens you. You should want to hold him at gunpoint, press the barrel to his temple, dig it in deeper—watch as those eyes that never truly saw you rip apart under your finger’s pull.

But his lips were on your skin. His hands were on your body. His warmth wrapped around you, consumed you, swallowed you whole.

And God.

As much as he was lost in his fantasy—

You were lost in yours.

•

The weight of last night finally settle in—heavy, but familiar. A burden you’ve carried before, one that no longer surprises you, yet still manages to sink deep into your bones.

However, you can’t help replaying the sound of his voice calling for her, like an echo that won’t fade, a whisper that claws at the edges of your mind. Even in the silence and the absence of his warmth, the ghost of his voice remains—woven into the sheets, imprinted onto your skin, haunting you in ways you wish it wouldn’t.

You decide to roll over, pulling the blanket higher, eyes squeezing shut as if you could will yourself back into sleep—a brief escape from the weight pressing into your chest.

But peace never comes easy.

A series of sharp chimes pierces through the quiet, your phone vibrating restlessly against the nightstand. Each notification a demand, a disruption, a tether dragging you back to reality.

You groan, burying your face into the pillow, fingers curling into the sheets. Maybe if you ignore it, it’ll stop. Maybe if you hold still—

A shrill ring of a call cuts through the air, louder, more persistent than before.

You flinch.

A deep breath. A slow exhale.

With reluctance, you reach for the phone, fingers curling around the device, eyes barely open as you glance at the name flashing across the screen.

MC.

You glide your finger to the green button, slowly bringing the phone up to your ears.

“Yn! What are you doing today?” her voice loud, brimming with energy.

You are slow with your reply, sleep not completely gone from you. “Nothing, really.”

“What about for the rest of the week? Are you going anywhere during the break?”

You hoped to sleep in, rot in your bed and drown in your sleep during the short break. After all, the exams last week took years off your life.

“Not really… I planned to rest a bit.”

“Oh my god thats perfect!” her voice is too excited for your liking. A bad feeling boils up in your stomach.

“Yn… Actually…” she trails.

“Just spit it already. What do you want?” you ask, suspicion creeping into your voice.

“You remember that film project I was invited to join… right?”

“Yeah… Why?”

“Basically… one of the actresses can’t make it, and my friend is going nuts! So… I kind of really need someone to fill in…” she explains.

“No,” you almost snap.

“Please! The role will fit you perfectly! We’ll be shooting at the beach for a few days, so think of it as a vacation!” she begs.

“No.”

“Please!” she cries.

“No-“

“C’mon shortcake!” a voice chimes in. “I’ll be there too. Don’t you want to go on a trip with us?”

Your breath stills.

Of course, he’s there. Of course.

“You? Filming?” you scoff.

“I mean… pipsqueak here wouldn’t let me go if I didn’t agree to this.” His tone is all lazy charm, dripping with something that makes your stomach churn. “You really gonna make me suffer through this without you?”

A snort leaves your lips before you can respond.

Suffer? What a joke.

MC’s voice rushes back in before you can respond. “Yn, please! We’ll be filming for a few days, and then we’ll have the rest of the time to just relax. It’ll be fun, I promise!”

“I already said no—“

“You haven’t even heard the best part,” MC interjects. “Guess who else is coming?”

You roll your eyes, pushing yourself up from the bed. “If you’re about to say some actor or influencer, I really couldn’t care less.”

“No, no.” You can practically hear the grin in her voice. “It’s someone new. He’s real popular. All the girls fawn over him, but he’s really difficult to spot! I don’t even know how my friend managed to make him agree to this!”

“Not interested—“

“PLEASE!” MC cries.

You hesitate.

The thought of spending days watching Caleb and MC be… them, under the golden glow of the sun, their laughter tangling in the waves—

it sounds like hell.

“I’d like to go to the beach with you,” Caleb says flatly.

While it did not carry the same warmth nor the sincerity you hoped, your heart couldn’t help but skip a beat.

Your pause was quickly followed by a sharp exhale. Leaning back against your pillow, you answer: “…Fine. But if this turns out to be a waste of my time, I’m leaving early.”

MC cheers on the other end. “You’re the best! You won’t regret it! I’ll send you all the details.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you sigh, rubbing your temple, already wondering if this is the worst decision you’ve made all month.

Caleb’s voice hums through the speaker one last time, satisfied.

“See you soon, shortcake.”

And the call ends.

You let the phone drop onto your chest, staring at the ceiling.

You savor the stillness of your space, the peace and quiet returning. Maybe this will be the last time you’ll feel peace in a while.

It’s for the beach. For MC. Not for him.

Never for him.

•

“Yn! Wake up, we’re here!” MC’s voice cuts through the haze of sleep, bright and unbothered, like sunlight streaming through a crack in a closed curtain. You groan, shifting in your seat, reluctant to open your eyes.

A soft breeze brushes against your skin, carrying the scent of salt and something sweet. The sound of waves pulses steadily in the background, rhythmic. You blink against the brightness, groggily lifting your head to find the world drenched in gold—shimmery sand stretching for miles, sunlight dancing over the water, voices overlapping in easy laughter.

The air is open—fresh—a welcoming contrast to the suffocation you felt in your ride here with Caleb and MC.

Caleb stretches his arms towards the sky, sighing in content. “God, the ride here was definitely worth it,” he says as he gets up from the driver’s seat. You are basically dragged out from the backseat by MC, tugging you towards the group of people outside. The ground is warm beneath your feet, the world spins just slightly as you take it all in.

“Come on! Everyone’s waiting!” she beams.

You let yourself be dragged toward the cluster of people—the cast and the crew, the ones who will fill the next few days with scripted lines and fleeting connections.

“Everyone, this is Yn, the stand-in. Be nice to her, or I’ll have you thrown into the ocean.”

“I’ll be watching too,” Caleb adds, his tone playful with a teasing smirk.

A few of them laugh, offering easy smiles and greetings.

The introductions blend together—faces, names, friendly exchanges. Some are actors, some are behind the camera, some are just here for the beach. You barely catch half of what’s being said, nodding along and attempting to remember their names.

You find yourself with the group of side characters discussing your roles, lines, and queues. You can’t help but steal glances at the other group where MC and Caleb are—the group of main characters.

A scoff leaves your lips.

Ironic.

The roar of the engine tears through the air, drowning out all other sounds from the waves to the chatters.

A sleek black motorcycle cuts across the sand, a shadow against the golden stretch of the beach, leaving a cloud of dust in its wake. It moves with precision, stopping just before the group in one smooth motion.

The rider moves just as effortlessly.

With a single tug, the ebon helmet comes off, revealing a mess of silver strands—hair catching in the wind, untamed and unbothered. He exhales, running a hand through the locks like this arrival is nothing more than an obligation.

But there’s no denying it.

Even as the bike hums quietly beneath him, it’s not the vehicle stealing attention.

It’s him.

Black fabric clings to his frame, a stark contrast against the bright, sun-drenched scenery. The sharp planes of his face—cut by light and shadow—hold a quiet, effortless indifference.

The tall figure swings a leg over, stepping off the bike, boots sinking slightly into the sand.

The weight of his presence alone is enough to command attention—to turn all heads and cease all conversations.

One of the crews rushes towards him, their voice edged with exasperation. “You’re late, Sylus.”

He barely spares them a glance as he pulls off his gloves, his voice a deep, unhurried drawl. “My presence itself should be a blessing to you.”

A few chuckles ripple through the group, some amused, some wary, some a little too eager.

You glance at the scene for a second before turning away. The girls’ fawning over him is instant, predictable, and exhausting. You’ve seen it before. You’ll see it again.

While it is just a university project, the casts and crews move with precision, their skill making the process swift, effortless, practiced.

“Action!”

The cameras roll.

“Please… don’t go”

MC falls to her knees, clutching Sylus’s hand like it’s the only thing keeping her tethered to this world. Her voice trembles, perfectly measured, perfectly raw. “I need you.”

Behind her, Caleb stands holding out his hands but never reaching her.

Had you not seen the cameras and microphones hanging overhead, you might’ve believed the desperation in his eyes.

But you know he’s not acting. That look in his eyes—the longing, the need, the quiet desperation woven into every word, every breath—you’ve seen it before.

Not in front of the cameras, but in the dead of the night when the world is asleep, his hands on your skin,

and his lips calling her name.

You watch the last scene of the day roll, standing on the sidelines as a filler character.

This is your role—the side character, a body to fill the frame.

A subject to make their story passionate.

You can’t help but silently scoff at yourself.

“Where are you looking, Sylus? Focus!” the director shouts.

Sylus scoffs in return. “Okay, okay, calm down.” His tone is lazy, unbothered.

The cameras reset.

“One more. Action!”

•

The scenes for the day finally come to a close, wrapping up just as the sky softens into shades of vanilla and gold. The lingering warmth of the sun dips beneath the horizon, casting long shadows over the sand.

Crew members pack up the equipment with practiced ease, voices overlapping as people shuffle toward the parked vehicles, eager to return to the resort for the night.

“I’m going to go with the others to shop for the campfire tonight,” MC announces, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “You can head back first.”

Caleb hesitates. “Are you sure you don’t need my help?”

She waves him off, beaming. “Yeah! You can head back with Yn. I’ll follow shortly!”

He lingers a moment longer, but eventually, he exhales, conceding. “Alright.”

MC disappears into the departing group, her laughter fading into the evening air.

Caleb turns, and his gaze lands on you.

Sitting by the shore, distant and unmoving, staring at the descending star.

The tide laps gently at the sand, rhythmic, steady—tranquilizing.

You don’t need to look up to know he’s watching.

You feel it—the familiar warmth of his presence, the way the sand shifts beneath him as he steps closer. Then, with a soft thud, he plops down beside you, stretching his legs out with easy familiarity.

“Was it fun?” he asks.

You don’t answer.

Instead, you let the waves respond for you, let the hush of the ocean fill the space between words left unsaid.

A chuckle slips from his lips��low, warm, effortless.

“Silent treatment? That bad, huh?”

You glance at him, finding that mischievous glint in his violet eyes, the one that always makes it hard to stay mad at him. The golden remnants of sunset paint his face in soft light, illuminating the curve of his smirk, the way the sea breeze tousles his hair.

“It’s tiring,” you murmur.

“That’s why I’m here,” he grins, stretching his arms behind his head, completely unbothered. “Aren’t you lucky?”

You roll your eyes. “So lucky.”

Caleb hums, shifting closer. Then—without warning—his head drops onto your shoulder.

The weight of him is unexpected but not unwelcome, the warmth of his body seeping into yours as he settles in comfortably.

You freeze. “What are you doing?”

“Taking a break.” His voice is softer now, quieter, almost lazy. “Being around people all day is exhausting, even for me, shortcake. Let me stay in my safe zone for a moment.”

Your breath catches.

Safe zone.

Your lips part, but no words come out.

He turns slightly, cheek pressing against your shoulder. His hair tickles your skin, and you swear you can feel the ghost of his smile.

“I think I like you like this,” he muses.

“Like what?”

“Quiet.”

You scoff, shoving his head off of you. “Ass.”

He laughs—really laughs, bright and full, the kind that tugs at something deep inside your chest.

Before you can pull away completely, he grabs your wrist, effortlessly pulling you back toward him.

And then—he flops over, head landing right in your lap.

You tense.

“Relax,” he murmurs, closing his eyes, completely at ease beneath your touch. “You make a good pillow.”

You huff. “I should just dump you in the ocean.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” He peeks up at you, smirk lazy, teasing, dangerously soft. “You’d miss me too much.”

You want to argue. You want to push him away.

But his hand finds yours, fingers absentmindedly tracing along your palm.

Soft. Gentle. Thoughtless, even.

And suddenly, the waves don’t seem so loud.

The world shrinks down to this moment, this warmth, this feeling.

“I like your company,” he mumbles. His eyes remain closed, a soft smile plastered on his lips.

You don’t answer.

You should scoff, slap him across his face and tell him he’s the biggest liar you’ve ever met.

But your heart betrays you—thudding just a little too loudly, a little too eagerly.

Because for the first time, Caleb seems present. With his hands slowly caressing yours, hair tickling your legs, breaths steady and soft. For the first time, he does not seem like he wants to be elsewhere. For the first time, he seems to be here with you.

The sky deepens from gold to navy, the last remnants of sunlight swallowed by the horizon. The moon rises, casting silver light over the waves, over him, over you.

And still, he doesn’t move.

Neither do you.

•

By the time you make it to the campfire, the flames have already been lit, their glow flickering against familiar faces. Laughter rings through the night, warmth curling through the air.

Someone from the team spots you immediately and waves you over.

“What took you so long?” another asks, tilting their head.

Before you can answer, Caleb nudges your side, voice lazy, amused.

“Tell them we were making out,” he whispers.

You elbow him in the ribs.

“We were watching the sunset,” you correct, ignoring the way Caleb huffs dramatically beside you.

People around the campfire raise their brows. “For that long?” one asks.

Before either of you can answer, MC walks towards the group, holding sticks of barbecue.

“You’re finally here! C’mon, hurry up and eat!”

The dinner goes on in easy waves of laughter and conversation, the campfire crackling as the scent of grilled barbecue fills the air. People pass around plates, skewers of meat and vegetables glistening under the golden flames.

MC settles between you and Caleb, nudging your arm playfully as she hands you a plate. “Eat. I don’t need you passing out tomorrow.”

Caleb chuckles from her other side. “Yeah, wouldn’t want you tripping over yourself on set. Again.”

You roll your eyes but take the plate anyway. The night stretches on, conversations flowing from topic to topic, dipping into familiar questions, teasing remarks.

At some point, someone grins, leaning forward. “Alright, let’s get to the good stuff—love lives.”

A few groans mix with laughter, while others lean in eagerly.

“Anyone got a secret romance brewing?” someone asks, eyes glinting in the firelight.

“Please,” another chimes in. “We’re filming a romance movie; might as well have some of that energy off-screen too.”

People murmur in agreement, some throwing names around, nudging shoulders, exchanging knowing glances.

Then—

“Where’s Sylus?” someone asks, noticing his absence.

Another voice answers casually, “Oh, he never joins things like this. He’s probably off somewhere alone. Typical.”

A few nod, unfazed.

“He’s kind of intimidating, isn’t he?” someone murmurs.

Another person shrugs. “That’s just how he is. Doesn’t care much about the social stuff unless he’s interested.”

The conversation shifts again, taking on a more excited energy.

“This movie is seriously going to be a hit,” someone exclaims. “I mean, we got the two most popular guys in uni.”

Heads nod in agreement, laughter breaking through the air.

“Seriously,” another adds. “We have Caleb—literally every freshman’s crush— and Sylus, the mysterious, untouchable one. It’s like the perfect setup for an actual drama.”

Caleb groans, running a hand through his hair. “Can’t a guy just live in peace?”

“You? Peace? Doubtful.” Someone grins.

The conversation naturally drifts back to love.

“So, Caleb,” one of the girls teases, leaning toward him. “What about you?”

You feel him shift beside you, but he’s unbothered, relaxed—almost like he saw this coming.

“What about me?” he hums, taking a slow bite of his skewer.

“Yeah, now that I think about it, I’ve never seen you around other girls,” MC points out. “So, what’s the deal? Are you single or just keeping secrets?”

More eyes turn to him, curious, expectant.

“Oh! But you seem oddly close to Yn these days,” her eyes narrow, a smirk curling up her lips. “I heard you watched the sunset together today too. Don’t tell me my best friends are dating behind my back!”

For a second—just a second—he pauses.

Then, with practiced ease, he exhales, the firelight flickering in his violet eyes. He tilts his head slightly, as if considering it—as if the idea itself is so absurd, it’s almost amusing.

“Me?” he says with a low, amused chuckle. “With Shortcake?”

He lets the words roll off his tongue, light, teasing, dismissive. His light chuckle turns into a full-on heaving laughter.

“C’mon, Michaela, you alone are enough to consume all my time! When will I have time to find a girlfriend, let alone fall for someone else?”

Laughter erupts around the fire.

MC laughs, nudging Caleb’s arm. “Oh, shut up. You make it sound like I’m your full-time job.”

He grins, bumping her shoulders back. “A tough job, but someone’s gotta do it.”

The group chuckles, the conversation moving along effortlessly—like it was never meant to be serious. Like your name had been nothing more than a passing joke.

You force a small smile, fingers tightening slightly around the skewer in your hand.

The laughter around the fire falls distant, like a muffled echo underwater.

For a second—for just a second—you’re still there, sitting by the shore, the last traces of sunlight painting the world in gold, his head resting in your lap, his fingers absentmindedly tracing your skin. The warmth you felt from him starkly contrasted the hollowness you’re dumped into, making you question if it even happened in the first place.

The memory clings to you like seafoam on the shore—delicate, fleeting, not meant to last.

Then it’s gone.

Ripped away by the weight of the present, by the laughter ringing through the air, by Caleb’s easy dismissal.

You shoot up from your seat, feeling the air and laughter drowning you.

“I’m gonna go grab some drinks,” you mumble

“The store’s pretty far from here, and the path’s pretty dark. Are you sure you’re going?” you hear someone say.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” you quickly excuse yourself.

The laughter behind you fades as you step away, but it doesn’t really disappear—it lingers, echoing in your chest, a cruel reminder that you’re the only one who isn’t in on the joke.

The path stretches before you, dark and empty, the only company being the dim white lights lining the road, casting long, hollow shadows on the pavement. You don’t really know where you’re going. You don’t care.

Your feet move on autopilot, one step after another, but your mind—your mind is still by the fire.

Still hearing Caleb’s voice.

Still seeing his smirk.

Still feeling the weight of him in your lap, the warmth of his hand against yours.

Like a dream you had foolishly clung to—only to wake up and realize it was never real.

Then—the first drop.

Cold against your cheek, startling.

Then another.

And another.

Within seconds, the sky splits open, the rain crashing down in heavy sheets, soaking through your clothes, drenching you in the same suffocating weight you’ve been carrying inside.

You don’t fight it.

You finally let it happen.

Let the raindrops blur into the tears already falling, let them wash away the silent sobs that quickly, too quickly, unravel into something raw, something ugly.

A sound rips out of you, one you barely recognize. A choked, broken sob, spilling out between gasps as your legs keep moving, keep carrying you forward—like if you stop, you’ll drown in everything you’ve been trying to ignore.

Your breaths hitch, your chest tightens, tightens, tightens—

“Me? With shortcake?” his voice echoes, repeats, digs in like a thorn you can’t pull out.

It plays over and over and over, rattling inside your skull, each syllable curling with amusement, dismissal, finality.

Tight, tighter, unbearable.

Each step you take feels heavier, anchoring you to something you don’t want to feel.

Then—thunder.

A deafening roar shakes the sky.

Your body reacts before your mind does—freezing, seizing, shaking.

No.

Another crash, louder this time, vibrating through your bones.

No, no, no.

The world blurs, the rain suffocating, your breath coming out in sharp, panicked gasps. Your legs lock up, your hands shake violently, and suddenly you’re seven years old again, curled up under a blanket, pressing your hands over your ears as the storm raged outside.

You look around, desperate, trying to make sense of where you are—or at the very least, find somewhere to hide. However, everything is blurred, smudged by the relentless storm and tears in your eyes, the shadow stretching too far, the streetlights blending into nothing but streaks of white against the downpour.

You can’t see.

You can’t think.

You can’t breathe.

With whatever shed of clarity you have left, you fumble for your phone.

The red battery icon blinks at you, mocking.

Your fingers are numb, shaking, barely able to dial in a number that first comes to mind.

The only number that comes to mind

Ring. Ring.

Please.

Another crack of thunder—closer.

Your knees buckle.

The sob that escapes you this time is pure terror.

You clutch your arms, shaking uncontrollably, the storm raging louder than the screams in your head. Your chest heaves, tightens, clenches painfully—

It won’t stop.

Ring. Ring.

Please, pick up.

And then—

“Hello?”

His voice cuts through the static, sharp and clear.

A choked breath catches in your throat. You don’t even know what you’re about to say.

“Caleb… I—“

“Sorry, Yn. Now’s not a great time.”

Everything pauses.

There’s a rustling sound, laughter—hers, clear as day, warm and safe.

“You know how MC is with thunders. I’ll call you back soon.”

Click.

The call cuts.

The storm rages on, but everything goes quieter.

For a moment, you just stand there.

A gust of wind lushes through you, piercing. But you barely feel it.

Your knees finally give out. You collapse to the soaked pavement.

Your hands clutch at your arms, fingers digging in, shaking, gripping like they can hold you together.

You hold onto yourself, keeping yourself safe from the storm you so despise. Thunder cracks, splitting the sky open.

You flinch, curling into yourself, pressing your forehead against your knees, trying to quiet down the noice.

But the rain keeps falling.

Pounding.

Drenching.

Drowning.

And then— a sound cuts through the chaos.

A low, deep growl of an engine.

It intrudes the thunder, steady and deliberate, getting closer.

Headlights carve through the darkness, their beams stretching across the road, swallowing you in a cold, artificial glow.

The bike comes to a slow halt.

Boots meet the wet pavement with a quiet thud.

His voice smooth and amused.

“What do we have here?”

He doesn’t rush. He doesn’t fumble with concern the way others might. There’s no gasp, no urgency, no immediate reach to help.

Instead, he observes.

And all he can see—

is a mess.

Soaked to the bone, curled into yourself, trembling not just from the cold or fear, but from something unraveling inside.

Pathetic.

That’s probably the first word that crosses his mind.

His head tilts slightly, eyes flickering over you, the way you refuse to lift your head, the way your breath still quivers, uneven, caught somewhere between a sob and silence.

And he waits.

Waits to see if you’ll move.

Waits to see if you’ll even notice him.

You don’t.

Which is probably the part that annoys him the most.

So, after a beat—probably due to pity in its most pathetic form—he finally exhales, kneeling just enough to close the distance between you.

A gloved hand lazily flicks your forehead.

Not hard. Not soft.

Just enough to pull you back to reality.

And when you finally look up—half-lost, half-ruined—he meets your gaze with a single, unimpressed arch of his brow.

“You look like hell.”

#lnds caleb #sylus #lnds #lnds sylus #love and deepspace sylus #sylus x you #sylus x reader #writing #caleb #love and deepspace caleb #caleb x reader #reader insert #caleb x you #caleb x mc #lads caleb #angst

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healedlover · 2 days ago

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EMPTY GAZE ; RUINED WITH LUST

summary: in which the expressionless man finally showed expression during sex pairing: nanami kento x fem!reader cw: nanami is a sex addict and a little perv, oral (m receiving), p in v, make out sesh, dirty talk, clothed sex (f is only wearing her clothes), one night stand a/n: not proof read, first time trying a fic like this haha..spare me..

— 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ —

nanami never had a girlfriend.

he was good looking, that wasn’t the problem. it was the fact he was very expressionless during sex, which made women think he was just using them for his own pleasure.

which was half true, nanami never intended on getting a girlfriend and just decided to use every woman to let his steam out.

currently, he was relaxing against a tree, watching the dark gloomy beach reflect upon him. he had no plans for the night, so he decided to just watch the beach to pass some time before going to bed.

minutes passed and he was getting bored by the second, he didnt know what was going on in his head but he needed something to distract himself with.

nanami glanced around the beach, looking for possibly anyone to let off his boredom with and caught someone standing near the waves. before he could walk up to them, he was interrupted with a small tug on his shirt.

“hello?”

nanami turned around and almost passed out at the sight, he mumbled a quick hello before looking up and down at your outfit.

star struck at the way your breasts sit perfectly in your revealing top, the way your hair contrasted perfectly with your outfit, the way the wind made your skirt flow up and down, he wasn't paying attention to a word you were saying.

"--so yeah, you down?"

"sure." nanami answered with no hesitation, actually--he didnt even care what he agreed to, but he needed to fuck you immediately.

"perfect! follow me, handsome." your fingers wrapped around nanami's large, veiny wrists and you dragged him to one of the beach houses nearby.

"why'd you decide to talk to me?"

"my friend recommended you to me, you know her?" you pull up a picture of one of the women nanami had fucked before, but nanami just shrugs and shakes his head.

"mm, dont remember her."

"weird, anyway, I heard you're very good at sex so I was thinking--"

nanami took a few steps in front of you and pressed you against the wall, his lips was inches away from yours. you could feel his hot breath graze against your skin, and in a blink of a second, he captured your lips in a deep kiss.

both tongues intertwined with each other, nanami nor you didnt want to pull away, nanamis fingers slid through your hair as he sunk himself deeper inside your mouth.

"wai--mngh-"

nanami's teeth sink on your bottom lip and he gives it a light tug before pulling away and staring down at you--yet again, with rarely any expression.

you scoffed at his incompetence and then felt the same rough fingers slip under your skirt, nanami's fingers teased the waistband of your panties and slowly pushed them down, leaving them to rest between your thighs.

"you heard I was good at sex...right?" he asked breathlessly, you nod and he slips his fingers out of your hair, wrapping those same fingers around your wrist. nanami placed your hand on his hard-on.

"then make me feel good...can you do that f'me?"

"yes.." you responded breathlessly, he nodded and you fumble the belt of his pants and after a few failed attempts you finally clink it open. you rip the belt off and quickly unzip his pants, letting them flow down his legs.

you pull down his boxers and was met with his searing hard length, staring daggers at you. sighing, you kneel down on your knees and brush your lips against his creamy mushroom tip, your tongue darting on the head as your lips wrap around his aching cock.

you lowered your head deeper and swore you heard a gasp slip out of nanami's lips, you look up at him--still with half his length shoved inside your mouth--and notice him scoffing at you before turning his head away.

"keep going..ngh"

your fingers grabbed onto his thighs and nanami winced at your grip. nanami's fingers grabbed onto your hair and he pushed your head until you took in his full length. holding back a gag, your nails dig in his thighs until it felt like it was bleeding.

"touch yourself." he demanded, you let go of his thighs and bring your fingers to your raging heat, you slip a finger in your cunt and rapidly stroke yourself as you continued to suck off nanami.

nanami kept pushing your head back and forth, back and forth. your throat started to hurt and your eyes were watering like a waterfall. you slip your fingers out of yourself and glare at nanami through your blurred vision.

"'m gonna cu-ughh"

he pulled himself out of you and white beads spurted all over your face, you sigh and plop against the wall as you look up at him with half lidded eyes and nanami's eyebrows furrowed as his fingers rubbed your eyelid to remove his mess written all over your face.

"where's the bedroom?" nanami asked, looking around the room the two of you were isolated in.

"on the left"

nanami nodded and lifted you off of the ground, carrying you to the bedroom. he stood in front of the door and lightly kicked it open with his foot, nanami then carefully made his way to the bed and threw you on it.

he slid his fingers under the waistband of your panties and swiftly removed them, still keeping your skirt and top on. you watch as he lines himself with your wet cunt, which was practically begging to be used already.

his tip made contact with your soaking entrance and he carefully pushed himself inside you.

"did you even cum yet?"

"I dont...mgh...know" you mutter, shutting your eyes, grabbing onto the bed sheet beneath you. you heard nanami let out a quiet 'tsk' before he thrusted himself into you.

"s' tight...fuck.."

you clench around him and he pushed himself deeper inside you. you let out a whine and flutter open your eyes to see nanami's flushed face and his expression filled with lust, the one thing your friend told you was that he showed little to no expression.

but here he was, taking in your tight cunt, while his face looked like he was a virgin having sex for the first time. the way his eyebrows furrowed together and his eyes were watering with desire.

you didn't mind this view at all.

nanami glanced down at you, and wrapped his hands on your wrists, pinning them down on the bed. he leaned in closer and left a bunch of kisses all over your face.

his fingers slid under your skirt and his eyes kept darting between your tits bouncing in the same rhythm hes pounding you in, and back at your eyes.

"ugh...'m gonna cumm"

"so am i, baby, so am.. mmph- hold it in, can you do that?"

you nod but your body was rejecting you from holding it in, a needy moan slipped out of your lips while your cum spilled out of your hole, with one final thrust he pulled away and came all over your body. nanami plopped on you, absolutely worn out from the best sex he's probably ever had.

his head nuzzled into your neck and he held onto you for the night.

— 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ —

a/n: aftercare happened trust

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu nanami #kento nanami #nanami kento #nanami smut #jjk smut #jjk nanami #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami x y/n #jujustsu kaisen x reader #nanami fanfic #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #nanami is so fine #need that #smut

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darlingdreadwrites · 3 days ago

Note

Hi!! Can u make a hurt/comfort fluffy but ig also angsty eyeless jack and/or ticcy toby(separate) x gn reader who feels ignored/like people dont care to listen to them? Itd be a nice comfort fic! Its okay if not tyy💗💗

YES IM ALIVE AND THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING!!! i’ve never done something in this format before

pairing: Eyeless Jack x GN!Reader

contains: angst, hurt/comfort, fluff

word count: 998

masterlist

a.n: remember to take care of yourself <3

@uhnanix

You want to ignore this feeling – no matter how much you tell yourself you’re overreacting. These were your friends, of course they care about what you have to say. But you can’t help but notice how they brush off your input or ignore it altogether. You were used to it. The way your words seem to dissolve before they reach anyone’s ears. They would nod, hum, pretend to listen, but their minds have already moved on. You can feel the heavy lump in your throat as Jeff talks over you once again, and you decide that you’ve had enough. You would just blink back your tears and stay silent, hoping someone would notice.

But, of course, they didn’t. Not even your boyfriend, it seemed. He is usually this quiet and withdrawn – why would he care? So, you figuratively take a step back, biting at the inside of your cheek and holding yourself back despite wanting to speak up so badly.

You don’t bother getting out of bed today, not when you know you’d basically be a ghost. That slow, insidious shadow of insecurity has won you over. Whoever you talk to, they’ll only lose interest the second you open your mouth. The slightest shift of their gaze to something else would certainly send you down a spiral. It was exhausting. You only want to save yourself from that disappointment, you tell yourself. It’s so cloudy in your mind that you don’t even notice the soft click of your door opening.

As you stare at the wall, the hollow ache in your chest tightens, Jack lingers in the doorway for a long moment.

“Feeling tired today?” he asks, the air shifting around him. His voice is low, with an unnatural smooth stillness to it. There’s curiosity laced between his words, he’s making sure there’s no demand for you to spill what you’ve been bottling up. You swallow, debating whether to answer at all or pretend to be asleep instead. What was the point?

“I guess,” you mutter, turning your face into your pillow.

Jack doesn’t move, weighing his options. Then, soundlessly, he steps inside and closes the door behind him. The room feels significantly smaller with him in it, but not in a suffocating way. You’re hit with the urge to tell him everything, but you’re not sure he’ll understand.

He doesn’t push or pry – instead, he sits beside you on the bed. You can feel the weight of him near you, and you slowly turn to lay on your back. For a while, the only sound in the room is the quiet hum of your own breath.

You sigh, rubbing at your tired eyes.

“I just… I feel like no one actually… listens,” you admit. His silent patience working to make you spill your words before you can stop them. “Like… I could disappear and no one would notice.”

The silence that follows is different from before, and you swear you saw him flinch. Jack doesn’t react immediately, but you feel the tension in him. His fingers twitch where they rest on his knee.

“I would notice,” he says in the same steady, deliberate tone.

Your breath hitches.

Jack isn’t one for unnecessary words. He never speaks just to fill space; never said things he didn’t mean. And now, as his voice settles and soothes you, you know with certainty that it is the truth.

He shifts slightly, his head tilting as he continues. “I hear you. Even when you don’t speak.”

You turn your head toward him, searching for something in the expressionless mask he always wears. The dark voids where his eyes should be give away nothing, but his voice holds a quiet sincerity that makes your vision blur.

“I listen,” he says, softer now. “Because you listen to me.”

Your voice cracks. “Jack—”

“I know I don’t always say things out loud,” he interrupts, as if anticipating your doubt. “But I notice everything. I notice you.”

You swallow the lump formed in your throat, the tears streaming down the sides of your face. No one had ever said that to you before – not like this.

“You don’t have to be loud for me to hear you.”

Something in you finished cracking at that, the exhaustion pressing against your ribs suddenly lifting. Jack’s presence has always been quiet, but now you realize that his silence isn’t indifferent. He existed in the background like you did, unnoticed by most, but never by you. You shut your eyes tight, letting out a shaky exhale.

Slowly, cautiously, his gloved hand moves over to your face. The rough texture of his thumb glides over your warm cheek to wipe your tears. Jack isn’t one for physical affection, but this silent reassurance moved you beyond words.

You swallow hard, then shift to lift the edge of your blanket.

Jack hesitates, then, without a word, he slides under the covers beside you. His body – steady and solid against you – runs cooler than yours, but you find the contrast comforting. You cuddle up to him, and he inclines his head to press it against yours.

A small giggle bubbles up while you finish wiping at your tears as you feel the smooth, cool material of his mask pressing against your cheek.

Jack tenses slightly at the sound. “What?”

You shake your head, smiling softly. “Nothing. Just… your mask.”

He lets out a low exhale, something close to a chuckle. You hesitate for only a moment before lifting your head, pressing a gentle kiss to the surface of the mask. It isn’t much – just a light brush of your lips against the material – but it is enough to make Jack go completely still beside you. He leans his mask closer to you, as if deepening the kiss, earning another soft laugh from you. Hie hand tightens ever so slightly around yours, and neither of you speak after that. There is no need. For the first time in a long time, you feel heard.

pairing: Ticci Toby x GN!Reader

contains: angst (but not a lot i dont think), hurt/comfort, fluff

word count: 834

The silence in the cabin presses against your ears, making you hyperaware of every creak in the floorboards. You had tried – again and again – to interject into conversations with the others, but each time, someone else spoke over you. It was a familiar feeling by now, one you are used to. It doesn’t make it hurt any less.

You had joked about it before, played it off like it didn’t bother you. “Guess I’m just too easy to talk over,” you laughed once, expecting nothing from it. But Toby had tilted his head at you and said, “If you-you really had s-s… something important to suh-say, you’d just say it louder.”

You hadn’t said anything, but what he said stung. It solidified all your fears and insecurities because it had come from your boyfriend, of all people. He hadn’t meant to hurt you, but that didn’t mean it didn’t echo in your mind every now and then. It would sit heavily in your chest even now, as you sit there, arms wrapped around yourself in the dim cabin light.

Toby seemed oblivious. He was busy fidgeting, his foot bouncing where he sat on the worn-out couch beside you. He was always talking, always moving. It’s easy to assume he doesn’t really pay attention to the details of things – especially not you.

Then came the final straw. You had finally worked up the nerve to say something, to try again. You had barely gotten the first few words out before Toby, not even realizing, barreled over your sentence with his own tangent. And that was it. You shut down.

Your shoulders slump, and you press your lips into a thin line. You stop trying – looking at the floor instead. Toby doesn’t notice at first, and he keeps talking like nothing happened. But something must have clicked. The way your face went black, the way you had been trying all night and now you weren’t saying anything at all.

Toby tilts his head at you, squinting. “Hey-hey, you’re doing that sad thing. Stop… that.”

You exhale sharply, shaking your head. “It’s nothing.”

Toby goes still.

For anyone else, that wouldn’t mean much – but Toby was never still. The jittery, twitchy energy that hums under his skin suddenly settles, his dark eyes staying locked on your face. “Bullshit.”

You try to wave him off, but he grabs your wrist.

“C’mon,” he presses, his voice just a little softer. “Wuh-what’s wrong?”

You pause. Maybe it’s the way his usual chaotic energy had faded, or maybe it is the way he sounds like he cares – really cares.

You test him, letting the silence drag out. To your surprise, he doesn’t press, sensing that you are truly upset.

“I just... feel like no one listens to me,” you reveal, finally looking at him.

He’s still silent, waiting for you to continue. But years of keeping to yourself have constricted your throat, and all you want to do is cry instead. You quickly regret saying anything, your mind scrambling for any way you could turn this into a joke. But then, his mouth pulls into a frown.

“That’s stupid – of course, I listen to you.”

You let out a bitter laugh. “Do you?”

His frown deepens. “Yeah, I… do. I mean… maybe I s-s-suck at showin’ it, but I do.”

His hands twitch against his thighs before he leans forward, eyes bright with something fierce.

“You always com-complain about wanting to p-…pick out something new when we go out to-to eat, but you never do. You act-act like you will, but you… you don’t. You hum when you’re ner-nervous. And-and that dumb joke you…made about elephants the other day? I stuh-still think about it. It was funny.”

You blink. “…What?”

His knee starts bouncing again, his neck twitching to the side for a moment.

“You think I… don’t hear you juh-just ‘cause I talk a lot? I hear everything.” His voice lowers to a more serious tone. “I hate being-being ignored. Hate it. And you—” His breath hitches, and he swallows before continuing. “You shuh-shouldn’t have to feel l-like that.”

The sincerity in his voice creates a warmth that spreads through your chest. Tears well up for a moment because of how seen you felt.

Toby watches you for a moment before launching himself across the couch. You barely have time to react before you’re tackled into a bone-crushing hug. He wraps his arms around you so tightly that it steals your breath. He peppers your face in loud, dramatic kisses as he rocks you back and forth.

“You’re s-so-so dumb,” he mutters into your shoulder, his words muffled. “Thinkin’ no one…listens to yuh-you. I listen. And if any-anyone else ever ignores you, I-I’ll cut their tongue o-off. No one ignores… my person.”

You let out a half-exasperated, startled laugh. “Toby.”

“Not jokin’.” He pulls back just enough to look at you, a grin tugging at his lips.

You lean forward, giving him a loud, dramatic kiss of your own.

#creepypasta fanfiction #creepypasta fanfic #creepypasta x reader #x gn reader #gn reader #ticci toby x reader #creepypasta #eyeless jack x reader #eyeless jack fanfic #eyeless jack #eyeless jack creepypasta #ticci toby creepypasta #creepypasta ticci toby #ticci toby fanfic #ticci toby x you #ticci toby #creepypasta fandom #angst fanfic #hurt/comfort

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alinathinkstoomuch · 7 hours ago

Text

Filthier Flat-Pack Thoughts

18+ MDNI pairing: aaron hotchner x reader summary: your boss rejects you the first time but what happens when he's the one in charge? (part 2 of Filthy Flat-Pack Thoughts, but can be read as a standalone) warnings: baso porn w/o plot, hotch has a filthy mouth, reader and hotch both have a thing for mirrors... p in v sex, fingering, idk man i got carried away, enjoy xx (not proof read, dont come for me) word count: 5.6k

You had taken the coward’s way out when Monday came. But really, what else were you supposed to do after throwing yourself at your boss and getting let down?

So, instead of facing the consequences of your actions – or worse, facing him – you sent Hotch a text claiming you weren’t feeling well and asked if you could use your PTO for the day.

He didn’t respond. Not directly, at least. But just before the usual morning briefing, Garcia had texted you.

Feel better soon, sunshine!!!

Accompanied by enough emojis to make your head spin. Which meant he must have told them. Which meant that it was fine. And yet, the thought of him seeing your message, reading it, and choosing not to reply left a pit in your stomach that you weren’t ready to unpack.

You just needed one more day.

One more day to shake off the mortification, to stop replaying every humiliating second of Friday night in your head, to convince yourself that come Tuesday, you would walk into work and pretend none of it ever happened.

You didn’t want the day to go to waste so you tried to be productive, throwing yourself into the thing that would keep your hands and mind occupied - finally unpacking.

And you had mostly succeeded.

Most of your boxes were empty, your things finally finding a place in your new home, and after an embarrassing amount of time, you had even managed to put together your bedside table. But despite the distraction, despite the minor victory of assembling furniture without Hotch’s help, the second you sat down, exhaustion settling deep into your bones, it was still there.

That awful, gnawing awareness that sooner or later you were going to have to face him.

You decided that a hot shower might help wash away the lingering shame clinging to your skin. You turned the water up almost too hot, as you stood under the shower head, hands pressed against the cool tiles.

It was fine.

You just needed to stop overthinking it. Hotch wasn’t cruel. He had let you down gently. He had done the right thing. So why did your stomach still twist at the memory of it?

By the time you stepped out, your body felt warm, relaxed - your mind, less so. You pulled on one of your softer, more delicate chemises – a small indulgence in comfort you desperate needed. Then, with a sigh, you settled onto the couch, grabbing your phone and tapping through your contacts.

Garcia picked up on the second ring.

“Ah, my fallen soldier! How are we holding up?”

You groaned, shifting on the couch, tucking your legs beneath you. “I’m fine, Pen. Just taking a day to recover.”

“As you should, my dear. Self-care is critical after a weekend of… whatever happened that has you hiding away.”

You rolled your eyes, stretching out against the cushions. “Moving, Penelope. Moving has be hiding away. It is truly an exhausting process.”

Garcia hummed, evidently not convinced by your little white lie. “Well, boss man seems exhausted too. Or just very tense and broody. I can’t tell anymore, his scowls are all starting to blend together. Did he maybe pull a muscle helping you with your furniture or something?”

Your stomach dropped.

“Penelope -” you started, only to be cut off by a knock at your door.

You froze.

“Okay, who have you sent to my door this time?” you muttered, pushing yourself up from the sofa.

“Excuse me? I’ll have you know I’m not the mastermind behind all surprise visitors.”

You didn’t believe her for a second.

Still, you pulled on your robe, tugging it over your chemise as you made your way to the door. The fabric felt softer than usual, almost fragile, like it wasn’t quite enough of a barrier between you and what was waiting on the other side.

Balancing your phone between your ear and shoulder, you tied a loose knot at your waist, fingers fidgeting with the belt as Garcia sighed dramatically on the other end.

“Well? Who is it? Spill.”

Your hand hesitated over the lock, a second of hesitation turning into two, three, before you finally turned the knob and pulled the door open.

Your stomach plummeted.

Because there he was.

Aaron Hotchner.

Standing on your doorstep – again. Looking every bit like the man you had spent the last two days trying to avoid, trying to forget, trying not to replay in your head on a never-ending loop.

“Let me call you back, Garcia,” you murmured absentmindedly, already pulling the phone away from your ear, hanging up before she could even think to respond.

Because right now, the last thing you needed was an audience.

You barely registered the sound of the line disconnecting, too focused on the man standing in front of you. Hotch didn’t speak right away, didn’t explain why he was here, didn’t offer you anything to ease the knot forming in your stomach.

He just watched you, which was almost worse.

You had been bracing yourself for tomorrow, telling yourself that by then, the weight of everything would have settled just enough for you to fake your way through the awkwardness, to act like Friday night had never happened.

But here he was. Now. And the fragile plan you’d built to protect yourself had just gone up in flames.

“Can we sit?”

His voice was softer than you expected. Softer than you were ready for.

You pressed your lips together, shifting on your feet, your fingers tightening around the knot of your robe, grounding yourself in the feel of the fabric, something real to hold onto.

A moment passed before you finally stepped aside, nodding slightly.

"Yeah."

Your lips pressed together as you shifted your weight from one foot to the other, your fingers tightening around the knot of your robe.

He moved toward the couch, and you should have followed.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you lingered near the doorway, arms crossing over your chest, putting space between you. An invisible barrier, as if it could protect you from whatever was about to come next Hotch noticed, of course he did. His gaze flicked over you, reading every tiny shift in your posture, every hesitation, every instinct to put distance between you.

And still, he didn’t push. Not until he settled on the couch, elbows resting on his knees, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Sit, angel."

It was the way he said it – so soft, so steady – that you almost weren’t sure you’d heard him right. You sighed, resigned to the fact that there was no avoiding this conversation and lowered yourself onto the couch, leaving enough space between you.

A brief pause stretched between you. He was studying you, assessing you, trying to read you. And you suddenly felt so exposed despite the layers of fabric now separating you from him.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his tone feeling dangerously close to concern.

You let out a small, dry laugh, shaking your head. “You came all this way to ask me that?”

“Did you take today off because of what happened Friday?” he countered your question with another, leaning forward.

You expected the question, but hearing it out loud – acknowledging it – made you ache all over again. You dropped your gaze, fingers toying with the edge of your robe, avoiding his eyes like that somehow could make this easier. “I just… needed a day.”

Hotch nodded like he understood, like he had already known the answer before you even said it. His expression softened, and when he spoke again, it was even gentler than before.

“I never wanted to hurt you.”

“You didn’t,” you said quickly, too quickly.

Hotch didn’t look convinced, your name falling from his lips.

“I mean it,” you continued, making yourself sound certain. Trying to convince yourself as much as him. “You were kind, Hotch. You let me down in the nicest way possible. I appreciate that.”

“But –”

“I just needed today to clear my head,” you cut him off. “To remind myself that you were right.”

His brows furrowed. “Right?”

You let out a quiet, humourless laugh, dropping your eyes to your lap again. "That Friday night wasn't... real," you murmured, more to yourself than him. "It was stress and exhaustion and maybe a little too much wine. I let it get the best of me. It was a mistake."

The silence that followed was too long. Your fingers curled into the fabric of your robe, waiting for him to agree, to tell you that yes, it was a mistake, that it shouldn’t have happened, that you were right.

“Is that what you think?”

You looked up, brows pinching in confusion. “I mean…” You faltered, searching his face but it gave nothing away. “It was a mistake, wasn’t it?”

Hotch let out a breath, his fingers pressing into his thigh. “It wouldn’t have been right,” he said finally.

Maybe that should have been enough of an answer, maybe you should have left it alone. But you didn’t. Because something about the way he said it, the way his voice dipped slightly, made your stomach tighten, made the words slip out before you could stop them.

“That’s not the same as saying you didn’t want it.”

The moment they left your lips, you wished you could take them back.

His jaw clenched, his muscle ticking once.

And just as you started to convince yourself you had imagined this whole exchange, just as you prepared to backpedal, to fill the silence with some half-hearted attempt at smoothing things over, the most beautifully damning words falling from this mouth -

“I did want it.”

The air left your lungs in a sharp, breathless rush and you felt the room tilt.

“Then…why –”

“Because you deserved better than that.”

His words were firm, absolute, wrapped in the same conviction he carried into every case, every impossible decision.

“Hotch –”

“You’d been drinking,” he continued. “You’d had a long week and I know how quickly having too many things lined up at once overwhelms you.”

That sentence alone was enough to unravel you because he really did know you. He knew how your mind worked, knew how pressure built inside you until it spilled over.

“And I would have spent the entire next day wondering if I’d just taken advantage of you.”

Your throat tightened at the quiet honesty in his words, at the careful way he measured them, as if he had thought about this. As if it had sat with him just as much as it had with you.

And fuck, you didn't know what to do with that.

“You wouldn’t have. I didn’t need to be drunk to know that I want –” you hesitated, “–wanted you.”

He looked up at you, like he was weighing every single word you’d just spoken, turning them over in his mind like pebbles, making sure he heard you right.

“And what do you want now?” he asked lowly.

He was giving you the choice. No leading words. No hidden meaning. Just a simple, open-ended question.

Your stomach twisted, nerves and something warmer curling in your chest, in your belly, in the space between your ribs.

"You," you admitted, barely above a breath. "I still want you."

He nodded slowly. “Then take me to your bedroom.”

You blinked, unsure if you’d even heard him right, but the look on his face told you that you had. A sharp pulse of awareness ran through you, so strong it made your fingers clench into the fabric of your robe. You weren't sure you'd even be stable on your feet after hearing those words from his mouth, but you were sure as hell going to try.

Before you could move, he stood first. Your eyes followed the movement, unable to look away as he shrugged off his jacket, the rustle of fabric filling the space between you. Then came the cufflinks – carefully removed, set aside-before he rolled up his sleeves, revealing the strong lines of his forearms, the flex of muscle, the way his veins shifted beneath his skin.

And then, he reached for you. His hand open, waiting. Your gaze flickered up to his, searching, but all you found was patience and certainty.

“Only if you’re sure.”

Your fingers tightened around his.

You were sure. So damn sure.

You rose to your feet, and the moment you did, his other hand moved to undo the knot of your robe. His fingers worked it loose, the tie slipping free with ease, his breath coming just a fraction heavier as the fabric parted, revealing the delicate, pale pink lace beneath.

His tongue darted out, wetting his lips as his eyes dragged over you, taking you in inch by inch, slow and deliberate, like he wanted to memorize every detail.

And then he nodded toward the hallway. “After you.”

You turned, leading him down the hall, toward the first door on the right.

The soft glow from your bedside lamp spilled into the room, casting warm shadows against the walls. You silently thanked your past self for leaving it on –it was just enough light to see him, to see this, without feeling too exposed.

Pushing the door open, you stepped inside, moving toward the end of the bed. You didn't speak, didn't need to. You just waited, for his next instructions, for his next move.

Hotch's eyes swept over the room, taking everything in. It was still bare, not yet lived in, not yet filled with you –a work in progress, much like the two of you.

But then his gaze snagged on something. The full length mirror that rested against the wall, directly opposite your bed. You saw the moment he noticed it—the slight shift in his stance, the way his lips twitched, like he was already picturing something.

And then he moved.

Came to stand behind you, his hands finding your shoulders, warm and sure, guiding you just slightly until you were perfectly centered in front of it.

“That’s a very pretty mirror.”

Your eyes tracked every movement through the reflection, mouth parting, but for once you had no words. Then his lips brushed against your hair, barely there, but the heat of it lingered, seeping into your skin, into your bones, branding itself in a way you knew you wouldn’t be able to shake.

“Did you put it there so you could watch while you touched yourself?”

A slow, molten heat curled through you, pooling deep in your belly, spreading down between your thighs. Your legs tensed on instinct, pressing together as his fingers traced over the bare skin of your arms, feather-light, teasing, making you ache.

“Hm, sweet angel?”

You nodded meekly, biting down on your lip to supress the moan threatening to escape – one he had earned with nothing more than words.

“Did you do it after I left?”

Your sharp inhale gave you away, your body betraying you before you could even think of forming a response. Your back arched into him, fingers twitching as he intertwined them with his own, lips grazing the slope of your shoulder.

The mirror didn’t lie. You looked ruined already and he had barely touched you.

“Come on,” he murmured. “Use that pretty mouth before I find something else to do with it.”

That didn’t sound like the worst idea in the world.

Your throat bobbed as you swallowed. “Aaron, please.”

A slow, satisfied hum rumbled against your back as his hands finally moved higher, fingers ghosting over your nipples.

“Did you start from here?”

You felt dizzy. So dizzy that if you weren’t leaning into him, if he wasn’t holding you up, you were sure you would’ve collapsed. His right hand drifted lower, tracing the outside of your thigh while his left gripped you tighter, his palm kneading into your flesh.

“Or did you start with your thighs?”

You could feel his smirk against you skin, could see it in his reflection – the way his dark eyes met yours in the mirror, the way his lips curled at the edges as his fingers edged higher, inching toward the heat between your legs.

The fabric of your slip bunched up in his fist, silk riding up your thighs, baring you to him, exposing your lace panties.

Hotch exhaled slowly, watching the way the delicate material clung to your body.

“Show me, pretty girl.” His fingers flexed against your thigh, his grip firmer now. “I want to see what I missed out on.”

You looked at him through the mirror, eyes wide, lips parted in a soft pout because he couldn’t possibly be asking you to do this. Could he?

“Don’t make me ask again.”

Your thighs instinctively pressed together again, only to be met with his hand keeping them apart. A breathless sound escaped you, your body betraying you yet again, and his smirk deepened.

You knew what he wanted. And so, with shaky fingers, you moved your hand. His grip loosened slightly, giving you just enough space for your fingers to brush over the lace at the apex of your thighs.

“Atta girl.” His lips skimmed the curve of your jaw. “Show me. Show me how you thought of me.”

Your lashes fluttered, breath catching as your fingers dipped beneath the lace. Maybe it was a good thing it was your own touch and not his, because if he felt how wet you were, if he had proof of just how much you wanted him, it would only feed into his smugness.

And you weren’t sure you could survive that.

Hotch hummed in satisfaction, his right hand trailing up, covering yours, guiding it, controlling it as you started rubbing slow circles over your clit. His touch wasn’t hurried. Wasn’t forceful. It was intentional, like he wanted you to feel every second of this – feel what it was like to have his hand over yours, dictating the rhythm, deciding exactly how much pleasure you were allowed to take.

“Did you say my name?” he asked, voice rough. “Did you pretend it was me?”

Your lips parted, a desperate, needy noise slipping past them, your body trembling as he watched.

“Look at yourself.”

You forced your heavy eyes open, meeting your own reflection and you barely recognised yourself. Your body was trembling against his, your slip bunched at your waist, panties pushed aside, thighs twitching as you fought for air.

“What do you see, angel?”

Your breath hitched, your fingers faltering as his words wrapped around you, sinking deep into your stomach.

“I see a pretty girl who falls apart the second I tell her to.”

Your entire body shook. A fresh whimper broke free, your knees threatening to give out as his left hand tightened at your waist, keeping you upright, keeping you his.

“Please, Aaron –” Your voice was wrecked, desperate. “I don’t think I can keep going.”

His exhale was slow, like he was savouring the sound of you breaking. “Oh, sweetheart. Do you want me to take over?”

You nodded feverishly, too fast, your entire body screaming for relief. “P-please. I need you to.”

His grip on your wrist loosened enough for you to pull your hand away as he replaced it with his own. And then – God help you – his fingers moved.

A slow, deliberate drag through your slick folds, teasing, testing, until he found exactly what he was looking for. His touch was immediate and so much better than your own. A broken moan slipped past your lips, your head falling back onto his shoulder as your thighs quivered, struggling to hold yourself up.

“That’s it,” he whispered, voice rich with satisfaction, like he had known this would happen. “So much better when I do it for you, isn’t it?”

Your only response was a chocked sob, your hands grasping at his forearm, nails digging in, pleading.

You felt him smile against your skin. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

His pace quickened, precise and devastating, and you pressed into him – your body instinctively seeking more, needing all of him. And that’s when you felt it. The undeniable proof of what the sight of you like this had done to him. The thick, hard press of his arousal against the curve of your ass, straining against his slacks.

A fresh wave of heat rolled through you, a cry slipping past your lips before you could stop it.

Hotch groaned – actually groaned – his hips pressing forward, just enough to let you feel him.

“You feel that? That’s what you do to me, angel.”

Your breath hiccupped, tears burning at the corners of your eyes, your thighs clamping around his wrist, body trembling on the edge of something catastrophic.

“Aaron –”

“Be a good girl for me, hm? Come for me.”

And you did.

Your body tensed, your back arched, and then you shattered, a strangled sob escaping your lips as he worked you through it, whispering low, filthy praises into your ear, his grip never faltering.

Your body slumped against his, boneless, spent, your breathing uneven as you struggled to come back down. And when your hazy eyes flickered up to meet his in the mirror, the sight made your stomach flip all over again.

“How was that, angel?”

He knew you would never be able to touch yourself again without thinking of this. Knew he had achieved exactly what he wanted.

“Really good,” you breathed, head lolling back against his shoulder, your body still trembling from the aftershocks.

His lips curled into a knowing smile before pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. “Good, honey. But I’m going to need you to take everything off and get on all fours.”

Your stomach tensed.

Fuck.

He was trying to kill you.

His hands finally released you, giving you space to move, but not before he watched.

Waited.

Your fingers were unsteady as they found the hem of your slip, lifting it slowly, peeling away the last barrier between you. The silk slipped over your head, landing somewhere on the floor, followed by your underwear.

The air hit your bare skin, goosebumps trailing in its wake but it wasn’t the cold that made you shiver. It was him and the way he looked at you. You turned toward the bed, moving to crawl onto the mattress when his voice stopped you.

“Not the bed.”

You bit your lip as you turned back to face him, your pulse skittering in your throat. He was still fully dressed, still so composed when you were the exact opposite. His gaze dragged down your body at an achingly slow pace, taking his time, allowing himself to drink you in – every inch of you, every part he hadn’t gotten to see a few nights ago.

“The floor, angel. Right in front of the mirror.”

Your body burned as you complied, knees wobbling as you lowered yourself onto the floor. You positioned yourself exactly where he wanted, your palms pressing into the cool surface, your back arching slightly – offering yourself to him.

And the second you settled, the second you caught his gaze in the mirror you saw it. The way his eyes devoured you. The way his gaze landed between your thighs, locking onto your bare, glistening pussy, and the way his lips curled.

That bastard smirked.

Smirked at the mess between your legs, at what he had done to you.

You watched as he lowered himself behind you, his broad frame closing in, the warmth of his presence wrapping around you like a second skin. A sharp inhale tore through you as you felt the press of his thumb collecting the wetness from your folds, spreading it, claiming it.

And just as you started to adjust to the feeling, just as your body tried to catch up – his thumb was gone, replaced with his middle and ring finger, teasing at your entrance, then slowly, slowly pushing inside.

A sound left you, something between a gasp and a whimper, something utterly helpless, so desperate it made your skin burn.

He chuckled.

“You can use my fingers, honey. But you’re going to have to do the work.”

Your eyes snapped open, meeting his through the mirror.

He wasn’t kidding. His fingers stayed inside you, buried deep but he wasn’t moving them. Your walls clenched around him instinctively, desperate for friction, for more but he stayed still.

“Go on,” he said, his other hand pressing down on the small of your back, encouraging you. “Make yourself feel good.”

Your palms flattened against the hard surface beneath you, bracing yourself as you moved – tentative at first, a slow, testing roll of your hips as you slid down onto his fingers. The stretch had you sucking in a sharp breath, your lips parting around a whispered curse.

And he watched. His eyes never left you, locked onto your reflection in the mirror, tracking the way you rocked against his hands, the way your thighs trembled as you found your rhythm, the way you used him exactly the way he wanted you to.

But still it wasn’t enough. You needed more. You needed all of him, buried deep inside you, stretching you open in ways his fingers never could. But he wasn’t offering that, so you took what you could get. You bucked your hips harder, forcing more friction, forcing the stretch, chasing what you knew only he could give you.

A sharp cry slipped from your lips. “Fuck, Aar –”

“I know, baby.” His fingers twitched inside you, pressing just enough to make you gasp, just enough to remind you he was still in control “I know.”

And then, just as quickly, they were gone.

A desperate whimper spilled from your lips at the sudden loss, your body clenching around nothing, the emptiness leaving a sharp pang of need that made your head spin. And yet, before panic could settle in, before you could beg for him, you heard it.

The click of his belt buckle.

Your head moved up to meet his eyes in the mirror just in time to see him work the leather through the loops before letting it drop to the floor with a thud. He never broke contact as he reached for the button of his slacks, undoing it before the soft sound of his zipper filled the room.

He took his time.

Watched you squirm, watched the way your thighs could do nothing but press together.

His slacks slipped down, bunching at his feet, and then, finally, his boxers. Your pulse pounded against your ribs as he exposed himself, the tip of his cock already slick with precum, showing you just how much he wanted this – wanted you.

Once his shirt was discarded, he lowered himself back down, hands finding your waist, fingers pressing into your skin with just the right amount of pressure to remind you who you belonged to. Your back arched, your body responding before your mind could catch up, offering yourself to him in every way you knew he wanted.

You felt the hard, warm press of his cock against the back of your thigh, the slickness of it smearing against your skin, though you weren’t sure if it was from him or from you.

It didn’t matter because the next thing he was doing was dragging himself against your aching, soaked pussy. A sharp gasp tore from your lips as the thick length of him slid through your folds just enough to have you clenching around nothing.

He did it again, slow and deliberate, letting you feel him, letting the weight of his cock glide through your wetness, coating himself in it, using your own arousal to make you squirm.

"Jesus," he exhaled, his grip on your hips tightening, fingertips pressing into your skin like he was barely holding on. "So fucking wet for me, angel. You need it that bad, huh?”

The desperation in your body was humiliating, but you didn’t care. Not when he was teasing you like this, not when the heat between your legs pulsed and throbbed with every slow glide of his cock, not when he was so close to giving you what you wanted but still holding back.

“So bad, please,” you begged, pushing back against him, arching your spine, doing anything to get him where you needed. Every inch of you was trembling, every muscle coiled tight, your body nothing but pure, raw need.

He hummed, rolling his hips just enough for his tip to nudge against your entrance.

“Okay, sweet girl, okay.” His voice was gentle as he gave in. “But I need you to watch.”

His hand trailed up your spine before threading into your hair, gripping just firmly enough to tilt your head up, forcing your eyes to meet his in the mirror.

“Take a deep breath for me.”

And just as you sucked in that breath, he thrust inside you, the sudden, overwhelming stretch stealing the air from your lungs. Your fingers dug into the floor, nails scraping against the hard surface as your body jolted forward from the sheer force of it. The sensation was too much, not enough, everything all at once. Your head spun, struggling to process the way he filled you, how impossibly deep he was, how your body clenched around him, trying to adjust, trying to take him.

A ragged curse tore from his lips, his grip on your waist tightening, fingers pressing so hard into your skin that you knew you’d feel it long after this moment had passed.

His pace was slow – tortuous if you had to use one word to describe it. You watched him in in the mirror, the way his head tipped back, brows furrowed in restraint, chest rising and falling as he bottomed out inside you, taking a second to breathe before pulling back, leaving just the tip inside—before slamming back in.

A wet, filthy sound filled the room, followed by a broken sob from your lips as your body struggled to keep up with the intensity of it. The way he moved, the way he owned every inch of you, the way he was ruining you.

You didn’t know what you were begging for when his name slipped past your lips, raw and desperate. You just knew you needed it. More of him. Deeper. Harder. Just more.

"You're gonna come for me," he growled, his breath hot against your skin. "Gonna make a mess all over my cock while I fuck you through it, yeah?"

You nodded mindlessly, over and over again. “Y-yeah. Y-Yes.”

His hand slipped between your thighs, finding you clit once more, pressing down with just the right amount of pressure, unravelling you inch by inch. Your body was already trembling, barely holding on, every muscle tensed.

And he knew it. Of course, he knew it.

He could feel it, the way you clenched around him, the way your breath caught, the way you pushed back against him like you were chasing something you were already seconds away from losing yourself to.

“Fuck, baby, your gripping me so tight.”

Your body reacted to the words, your head dropping forward, your hands curling into fists against the floor as another wave of pleasure crashed through you.

"That's it, angel," he coaxed, his fingers moving faster, his thrusts hitting deeper. "Let me have it."

You came again, your body shuddering, incoherent mumbles falling from you lips as the orgasm swallowed you whole. But it still wasn’t enough for him. If anything, feeling you fall apart only spurred him on, made him rougher, hungrier, his grip bruising as he held you there, as he used your body to chase his own release.

His movements turned sloppy, his breath uneven, each thrust deep and desperate, dragging out his pleasure just a little longer. And then – his body tensed, his hands tightening on your hips as a sharp groan ripped from his throat, your name spilling from his lips as he buried himself inside you, coming hard, filling you completely.

His hips rocked into you a few more times, slower now, savouring every last second, his breath warm against your skin, ragged and uneven as he rode out the final waves of his release.

Then, his forehead dropped to your shoulder, his lips grazing your skin. “You okay?” he whispered.

You let out a breathless, satisfied hum. “More than okay.”

His hands slid to your hips and with careful movements, he rolled you onto your back, pulling out slowly before settling you against the floor. The loss of him sent a shiver through you, but you barely had time to dwell on it before his body hovered over yours.

You stretched beneath him, your fingers trailing up his arm, tracing the muscles still tensed from holding himself back. A lazy smirk tugged at your lips as you teased, "Who knew Aaron Hotchner had such a filthy mouth?"

“Consider it payback for not wearing a bra.”

You let out a laugh. “Well if that’s payback, I might just have to start wearing short skits with no underwear at the office.”

“Is that so?”

You grinned, stretching your arms above your head in an indulgent, satisfied way. “Mm-hm. I mean, if this is how you handle insubordination, I’d say I have a pretty strong case for pushing the dress code.”

His laugh was quiet, but it vibrated through you, something warm and rare and entirely for you. His weight shifted slightly as he reached for you, one hand trailing along your side, stopping just below your breast.

“Angel,” he murmured, dipping his head closer, brushing against your jaw before dragging down your neck. “You do that and it’ll be your last day in the office.”

“You’d fire me?”

He shook his head, his teeth grazing the delicate skin of your neck before soothing the spot with his tongue. “Never, honey. You just wouldn’t be able to walk for a week.”

divider creds. cafekitsune

#aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfiction #criminal minds #aaron hotchner one shot #ssa aaron hotchner #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotchner smut #hotch

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shirotski · 3 days ago

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micheal kaiser x f!reader

tw- dub-con (reader ends up easing into it) possessive kaiser, dom kaiser, sub reader, pussy eating, slight overstim, name calling, no aftercare, dacryphilia, unfinished

micheal kaiser was high class man, he wouldnt let just anyone be his empress! your body: the way it swayed when you walked. your eyes: how it always looked up at him so lovingly and innocently. he was a bit reluctant to touch you, not wanting to break his doll, well, not yet at least.

you were supposed to come over today, but it was loooong past when you were supposed to be there. He texted you at first, very demanding but firm. They kept getting more angrier, his texts werent questions but threats. he tried calling you but it went straight to voicemail. hearing your stupid voice say the same thing over and over again on the phone. It irked him deeply.

while he was getting angrier by each second you missed; you were dead asleep in your bed having slept through your alarm. you didn't miss it on purpose! you were a heavy sleeper after all. why did you oversleep? it's not like you were doing something that kept you up. you were on your phone till you passed out. didnt even get to charge it! how irresponsible.

He comes racing to your apartment, not caring about any driving violation. he gets to your apartment and knocks vigorously at your door; hes making so much noise, the neighbors will start to get annoyed if you dont open that door!

your eyes flutter awake, a good stretch before you pick up your phone which is on 5%. you see all the missed calls and multiple messages that kept getting more aggressive and aggressive as you scrolled. you hear the door be berated with multiple instances of banging, you rush quickly to the door because whoever is knocking is being way too loud! You open the door slightly ajar and peek your head out and see kaiser standing at your doorstep

"Kaiser?... why-"

"Shut the hell up, why werent you there?"

He stepped through the small gap which made you back up a bit as he slammed the door behind him. His eyes were angry and vicious, they stared daggers into your doe eyes filled with fear

"I'm sorry! I know I was supposed to come over but.. I overslept...." you looked down at the ground like a child getting scolded for doing wrong. he gripped your wrist and with his other hand cupped your face and brought it dangerously close to his

"Dont EVER do that again. Get over here."

He yanked you to your own bedroom and threw you on the bed. he crawled on top of you and kissed you firmly, not letting you breathe for a good second. your hands push his chest at an attempt to get him off you, this seemed to piss him off even more.

"Stop resisting.Dont make this worse for yourself."

You finally got air to breathe to protest but were cut off as he kissed at your neck. It was unexpected. you were being punished for something that wasnt even your fault! he started rip the clothes off your body, his hands delicately but roughly exploring you as his kisses started wandering further down.

He got to your panties and pulled them down off you, forcing you to spread your legs. Embarrassed, you quickly try hiding it from his leering eyes and hands move quickly to hide yourself. he grips your wrists and pushes his own body deeper into you so you cant close your legs.

"What did I tell you? Stop hiding yourself from me, slut. you're getting wetter by the second. do you enjoy being manhandled you whore? "

You tear up as he starts to inch closer to your heat, wanting to just run away from him. He looks up at you and gives that cocky smirk he does while hes on the field.

"Crying for what? I didnt do anything yet. Stop being a crybaby."

you sniffle at his words as he dips in between your legs, letting go of your wrists and gripping onto your thighs, keeping you still. you let out a moan as his pink muscle starts to savor every part of you. the filthy sounds you make when he indulges you. his mouth working wonders to your core.

"you taste so good. all f'me..."

his words vibrate againts your cunt making you shutter, you make little weak attempts to push his head away but, to no avail, he doesn't budge a bit. you start to ease into it and you put his head deeper into you. you slowly start feel something churn inside you

"kaiser.. I'm close.. please..." you utter weakly

"please what, doll?" He pulls away and you whine quickly wanting him to taste you again.

"please.. I wanna cum..."

he was painfully hard by now, he eats you put as he palms the bulge in his pants. He wanted to fuck you so bad already, but you had to be punished. he tasted you so sensually, you were losing your mind. you let go and he drinks up every last drop of your sweet cunt, even after riding out your high he doesnt stop. It hurts. It hurts so good and he doesnt stop.

"kaiser.. stop.. please *hic* I dont.. ." you try to push him away again

poor you! you've been crying this entire time while feeling so good.

"Begging? After you were so rudely pushing me away.. Do I really make you feel that good angel?" He grins as he slowly starts to pull down his boxers

"Just in luck angel, I'm not done with you yet."

this is my first fic, I dont know if I wanna continue it because I think its kinda bad.. I'll finish it if there people who do want me to.

if I used any words wrong, let me know. english is not my first language :,)

#blue lock #michael kaiser #x reader #blue lock x reader #smut #bl smut #thissoass #possessive #idfk anymore

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grahstumhurts · 2 days ago

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𝙄 𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙙 𝙖𝙣𝙮 𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧

Manon x Gn!Reader

再也不想诈不知谁人近日与你干着快乐事你我之间存着黑影子假使再拖极为无意义

Angst

Manon has been off, For months. A freezing cold gap between the two of you has been growing larger. Until you find out why.

CW - Mentions of cheating

A/N - I know the song itself isnt really the vibe, But the lyrics themselves are the vibe lol. Dont need to listen to it if its not your vibe since its Canto pop. Just felt like doing something fun! Based off the sandy lam song 灰色 (grey), Translation will be linked at the bottom for the song.

Things have felt off, For months, A shadow stood between the two of you. It started when Manon, Who had never been secretive once in your relationship, Suddenly changed her phone password. Things increasingly grew weirder over the weeks. Of course you had a gut feeling that something was off about her, But you trusted her enough to stay loyal, Even when times were tough in your relationship. She had always leaned on you when she needed help and you reciprocated that, You trusted her with every molecule in your body. But when she started leaving in the middle of the night while she thought you were sleeping, Driving off somewhere unknown, Something told you to investigate. When you found her entering a hotel, A woman was waiting outside for her, Hugging her tight and kissing her. It obviously stung, But the amount of energy you had put into your relationship for her to go and throw it away. She had sucked the life out of your heart, The colour drained only leaving a grey monotone in its place. You sat at your once warm home, Shared with who you thought was the love of your life, And waited. Waited for her to come back. Waited for her to come back and realise what she had done.

As soon as the door closed at around 3 am, You hopped out of bed. The restlessness kept you awake, You opened the bedroom door to see Manon, Sweat sheen, Lipstick stain on her collarbone, Who stood there stunned.

“How long” You sternly said with conviction in your voice. “How long have you been fucking other girls behind my back” She stared back at you, The girl who you had shared your first’s with, First relationship, First time having sex, First time moving in together, Stood before you. Guilt dripping on her sex covered ledger.

“I'm sorry” You see her eyes, glistening with tears about to fall, “I know i shouldn't have, But i just couldn't anymore.”

“Sorry, is all you have to say for yourself?!” You yelled, “Manon, I tried to ignore all the signs, “Maybe its a one time thing, Or shes not even cheating”, Fuck i loved you. I thought you loved me too.” You sigh, Rubbing your forefinger and thumb across your forehead.

“Please, Baby, Give me another chance. I promise i wont fuck it up.” She pleads, Practically begging.

“You ruined all your chances by fucking another girl behind my back,” You push her shoulders “I dont wanna love a liar. Fuck, Manon. I don't wanna see your face right now.” You turn to face away from her.

“Please, I'm begging you.” She cries, Her tears streaming down the face you once kissed with all the love your body could create. “I love you, y/n. Please”

“Pack your fucking things before i throw them out of the house.” You quietly mutter, “You better be out of here before I get back,” You say, walking out of the apartment.

When you get to your usual coffee spot, Your stunned to find Manon. Laughing along with a new girlfriend. It had been two months. She looked like you, She looked at Manon like she held up the stars and the moon that shine in the night sky. You tried to stay away from your old spots of habit from when you were with her. But like a magnetic force, She couldn't stay far enough away from you. Maybe part of you still missed that vigorous feeling of love that she gave you. You hated yourself for not being able to break through that grey feeling from your break up, You knew what was best for you was to move on from her. To realise how much better life was after her, And before her. But the broken memories of your time together still held places in your brain, etched into your skull.

Let me be the history, So you can move on

#grah speaks #katseye x reader #katseye imagines #katseye #katseye manon bannerman x reader #katseye manon x reader #katseye manon #manon bannerman #meret manon #katseye angst #grahstumhurts

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gr4c3fu-1 · 23 hours ago

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Sleepy. | Yang Jeongin x fem!reader

#—;; summary: you’re found sleeping somewhere you shouldnt (?) be. Who comes to deal with you?

#—;; word count: 1k

#—;; warnings: complete fluff

#—;; a/n: i might add more to this!!

————

Deciding on visiting the boys you knocked on their dormitory, not getting a response back.

Your day was tiring, as you were alone all day.

You knocked another time before pushing the door open concerningly.

“Hello..?” You called, stepping in and taking a look around only to be met with all empty rooms—they must not be back from recording.

“Hm.” You grumbled. You came to be entertained by their shenanigans but unfortunately you were left alone again.

Setting your bag down on the counter and slipping your shoes off you sat on their couch, deciding to watch a movie until they got home.

As you started the movie, you grabbed a blanket and laid down in the comfy and warm dorm. Even without the boys you still felt comforted and safe

As time passed, you eventually fell asleep due to your boring day with low energy.

—

The door SWUNG open at such a quick speed, it couldve almost woke you up if you werent in one of the deepest sleeps of your life.

Seungmin waltzed in, almost throwing his bag ontop of you.

He noticed quick enough and gasped, setting his bag down quietly. Running swiftly out of the room, with the noise of bustling boys still down the hallway

He ran to Jeongin, obviously because he was your best friend.. but recently maybe a bit more.

“Hey! Y/N is asleep on the couch, you might wanna do something about that before yaknow.. they wake her.” He winked at the blonde boy.

“Huh? Shes in our dorm? How..—Did you forget to lock it again?!” He huffed at Seungmin, picking up the pace in his strut.

He set his things down, glancing at the sweet ball of warmth curled on their couch.

He really didnt want to move her with the risk of waking her up but if he didnt the boys would indefinitely.

He sighed, taking in your small figure taking shallow, unbothered breaths.

he slid his hands under your body, scooping you up and carrying you bridal-style back to his room.

but what he didnt know, was Seungmin who was taking pictures of the whole thing.

He snickered to himself before shutting his phone off and stealing your spot that was now empty on the couch

Jeongin set you down on his bed, your head resting on his pillow while he pulled the blanket over you.

You stirred slightly, letting out a groan before repositioning.

Jeongin couldnt help but just watch. He took in your soft features and little breaths, and he hoped and prayed it was him you were dreaming about.

But the watching irked him. He needed to hold you in this moment, or show you how he wanted to share this vulnerability with you.

As he climbed into his own bed, laying atop the comforter, soaking in your natural state

He stroked your hair, trailing his fingers over your cheeks and nose and lips. He couldn’t help himself.

He sighed and played with your hair, but you woke up.

you kept your eyes shut, hearing him hum as you felt the pads of his fingers line your lips. You wanted to stay fake asleep to see what he’d do, but your body betrayed you as the corners of your mouth turned upright, earning a slight gasp from the boy standing next to you.

he ripped his hand away, holding it close to his chest, the other was holding his head up.

“S-sorry.. did i wake you Y/nnie?” he frowned.

“No no.. dont worry” you chuckled, sitting up.

“i— don’t remember falling asleep on your bed?” you said half serious half teasing.

“Oh yeah, Seu— ..i saw you asleep and i didnt want the boys to wake you up” he chuckled nervously.

why was he nervous? you guys are best friends! why did he lie? was he embarrassed that seungmin found him to deal with you rather than himself? why was he admiring you in your sleep? is that what two best friends do? Surely.

you just smiled at him, greatful for him.

the silence was comforting with a twinge of awkwardness from jeongins side. your eyes trailing up and down his laid out body. you really wanted him to touch you again.

but— not in a weird way, obviously. (well maybe that too, but not in this instance.) you wanted him to pull you closer and cuddle you, your tiredness still mingled and all you wanted were his arms around you with your face buried in his chest.

but what you didnt knoe was he was thinking the same thing. You wouldnt meet his eyes, but he was staring into yours.

Jeongins phone buzzed, and he checked it quickly.

“Do it.” read the message from Seungmin.

how did he even know..?

He was peaking around the corner of the door into i.n’s room.

Jeongin took his hand to your chin, tilting it up so you could catch gazes, and as his did he pulled you you in.

his strong arms pulling you next to him, he laid on his back wrapping his arms around your waist as you laid your head on his shoulder.

“..ayennie.. what are you doing” you whispered.

God. Did he fuck up? Did he read this wrong? Maybe he could play it off.

“uh….—“ was all he could manage to get out before you kissed his jaw.

His eyes widened as he looked down around your beaming face. He couldnt help but draw out a smile of his own.

“you’re so angelic y/n, i just couldnt help it” he practically whined

You wrapped a leg around his, putting your hand on his chest, messing with his t-shirt before bringing it up to his grown out blonde hair.

“cute, huh? says you!” you teased.

“Wooow. Okay. There cant be 2 cute people in this equation”

“Who says??”

“Me.” He smiled wider which he didnt know was possible

Silence fell over the two best friends again, and this moment of romance hit you like a truck.

You loved him.

And he loved you.

More than friends. A lot more.

“I.. Love you Jeongin.”

You had told him you loved him multiple times, but this time it felt different. It was different.

You never used his first time, always a series of the multiple nicknames you and his group had gifted him.

“I love you more y/n. More than you’d ever know.” he said just above a whisper, leaning in the slightest bit to leave the sweetest and softest kiss to your lips.

And now, it was his turn to fall asleep.

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fennecfox44 · 1 day ago

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landslide

jack hughes x reader

summary - my attempt at nice jack.. takes place years before radio nowhere so u dont need to read that first but maybe u should bc i liked it.. also might do a series idgaf who gaf id ont gaf...

Well, I've been afraid of changing 'Cause I've built my life around you But time makes you bolder Even children get older And I'm getting older, too

The summer sun is burning a hot hole through your back. You feel the scorch creeping up your shoulders and you know you should flip off of your stomach already but you’re too comfortable, sun-baked. Cicadas hummed and buzzed but you only heard them in between songs shuffling through your wired headphones.

Some time passes before you eventually decide you’ll flip over once this song ends—no, the next one—and then you finally do. You tug your sunglasses off the top of your head and push them up the bridge of your nose, shutting your eyes as you settle into your new position on your back.

Luke had invited you to fish with him and Quinn. Jack was off on a tournament in Russia, so they let you use his rod. But your patience for it dwindled quickly, deciding your time would be better spent tanning in a bikini than waiting aimlessly for a fish to poke. You’d fallen asleep in the chair, the sun soaking up your energy, and when you’d woken up, the brothers were gone. Probably to eat. But you weren’t hungry, so you stayed on the dock.

Your eyes are shut but you can still sense a cloud or something pass over you through the thin veil of your eyelids. You squint and push your glasses up over your head, worried it’s rain and that you’ll have to make a run for it back to the house. But it’s only Jack.

Your heart might’ve lept—well, it does, but not with excitement—if you hadn’t already known he was coming back today. He hadn’t text or called. You only got your news on him relayed to you second hand from Luke. The games he won, how his practices went. Luke had even offered a handful of times to put you on the phone whenever he called, but when prompted, Jack had always just said that he had to go and that he'd call back later.

You scowl up at him when you see his shit-eating grin, and pull your sunglasses back down.

“Is this my—hey, this is my chair,” Jack says, stifling a laugh as he pulls your legs up and on to his lap as he shoves his way onto part of the chair.

“Oh god, go back to Russia,” you grunt, tugging your headphones out of your ears. “It was so nice with you gone.”

“Hello to you too,” he grimaces as you kick at him, trying to wrestle your ankles into submission. “Fuck, chill out.”

“What do you mean, you didn’t even say hi!” you whine.

“Hi,” he smiles, snatching your sunglasses off your face. “Wow, it’s sunny. I forgot what the sun felt like.”

“Yeah, you look super pasty,” you retort, trying to grab your glasses back. He smacks your hands away. You give up and huff, laying back down against the chair.

“This is my chair,” he says again, more intently.

“Yeah. And I was using your rod earlier, too.”

“Yeah? My rod?” Jack grins cheekily, the fact that you hadn’t caught your own innuendo. “You wanna use it again now?”

You scoff, really kicking him hard in the side this time. Jack grunts, clutching at his side.

“Ow, you bitch,” he huffs. “The fuck’s up with you?”

You glare at him. “Giving me a hard time about not saying hi is really funny when you didn’t even call me once, Jack.”

Completely serious now, he pulls the glasses off to really look at you. “I called you!”

Technically. He called you a couple times in the middle of the night so that you could help him get off, not minding the time difference or that it threw you off your sleep schedule. You had tried to talk to him after, but he would say he had to get to bed, big game tomorrow or whatever excuse and that he’d call for real after. But he never did.

“Right,” you roll your eyes, finally retrieving the glasses back. You put them on, not wanting to look at him. “You’re right. I’m wrong.”

Jack groans, exasperated, running a hand through his hair. “See, this is the shit that pisses me off about you or us or whatever. You’re not my girlfriend. We’re not dating. Why do I have to call you? Why are you so up my ass?”

You bite the inside of your cheek but can’t help how your nostrils flare, trying not to react. You lived on eggshells around him, afraid that showing too much feeling would send him running.

“We’re friends,” you mumble, drawing your legs up to your chest. Felt really naked and vulnerable, suddenly very conscious of yourself and that you were only in a bikini with him sat beside you fully clothed. “Just would've been nice.”

Jack sighs, laying his head on your knees. “Sorryyyyy,” he drones, looking up at you. He wraps his cold hands around your warm calves. Then drops his head and presses a kiss to each of your knees. “Sorry, sorry.”

You can’t help but giggle. “Stop,” you pretend to be annoyed, tangling a hand through his hair like you were gonna pull him off, but really, you only wanted to make sure he stayed.

He splits your legs open, kissing the inside of your thighs, punctuating each one with a ‘ sorry’ in between.

“Jack,” you hiss, really tugging his hair this time as he makes his way lower.

“Sorry,” he keeps on, trailing closer to your core. At one point, he even bites at you playfully, and you whine, trying to squirm away, but he holds on to your hips, dragging you towards him. He’s knelt before you. You glance over your shoulder, and you convince yourself that the chair’s big enough to conceal him. And all the way from the house, through a window too. No one could see.

He hooks his thumbs round your bikini bottoms and tugs them down. His hands crawl back up as he spreads you open, glistening, wanting, before he latches his hands back onto your hip bones, pulling you up to his mouth.

You mewl desperately, your head lolling back, chewing your lip as he licks at you. Reflexively your hips buck against him but he holds you down while he apologizes so kindly. This was so rare. Even if there was a chance of getting caught, you think you’d take it, if it meant having him be this nice to you.

“Fuck,” you whimper, tears brimming your eyes as you tug his hair, urging him closer. Jack grunts, a hand trailing up your body, grazing your ribs before you snag his hand in yours. Without really thinking, you mindlessly pull his hand up to your mouth, sucking a finger past your lips. He groans into you, the vibration of it shooting a bolt through you.

He pulls his hand free, looking up at you, his mouth glistening. You whimper down at him as he wraps a bruising grip around your waist, pulling you down the length of the chair. “You little fuckin’ devil,” he says, looming over you, and you’re not sure if he’s mad or not, but decide it’s the latter when he presses his mouth to yours, kissing you hotly. "Fuck, you taste good." He murmurs against your mouth.

Jack pulls away, and you think he’s gonna really start in on you now, but he just stares. He brushes some unkempt hair out of your face, tucks it behind your ear before rubbing his thumb over your cheekbone. You look up at him, hoping your internal mix of shock and fear and hope and awe don’t betray you.

“You got prettier,” he says. “I mean, you’re always pretty. But you look prettier.”

You pinch your eyebrows together, drawn up tight in the middle. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he smiles strangely, then pats your cheek like a child. “Keep it up, kiddo.”

He goes to pull his hand free and against your better judgement, you reach for it, wanting to keep him close.

But he’s already pulled free, yawning, stretching. “Fuck. Jet lag’s a bitch.”

You wrap your legs around his middle. “I wanna make you feel better,” you say. Too forward. Too much all at once. He’ll think you’re trying to get something more out of him, tie him down to you, but you can’t help it. All you’ve ever wanted is to make him feel good, even when he’s constantly leaving you wanting.

He pats your leg, bending down to press one last cheeky kiss on your knee. “You’re sweet. I really am sorry.”

You frown. “Did something happen in Russia?”

Jack shakes his head, grinning. “Nah. Maybe I missed you.”

It was so hard to believe him, but you wanted to. Even if it meant you knowing you were going to let him let you down again. He would never want you this way. Fully, forever.

“Gross,” you say, but you both know you missed him more. It’s why he gets away with everything he does. He rolls his eyes again. This was good as it was. It didn’t need to change. Nothing needed to change.

#jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes x y/n #jack hughes x you #jack hughes smut

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