#this will stay up only until it makes me too anxious to think about you all hearing my voice lol

[rthornewrites]

a recording of me reading one of my posts

[tonycries]

FIRST masterlist! This masterlist has all my writing from 06/02/24 up until 01/10/24 — for my recent works click on my SECOND MASTERLIST <3

Men In Uniform Do It Best!

Dirty Lil' Secrets

A Picture Lasts Long (But Not As Long As That D*ck)

I'm Addicted, I Admit It!

Give Me Tough Love

Never Ever Seen This Before!

We Don't Have No Babies!

Like A Fever

Bad Things (To You)

Prettier When Messy!

Care For You!

Green-eyed Monster

So Lonely In My Mansion!

Kiss Me More!

Girl, I Do This Often

Cause, I Love Freaks!

Sl*t Me Out!

Match My Freak!

WAP!

R U Mine?

Hot To Go!

Girl, You Earned It!

I'm A BIG Stepper!

BODY-ODY!

SOOO ANXIOUS

Long Overdue!

THIS P*SSY DEPRESSED!

The Family Matter?!

I-T G-I-R-L!

I Lasted Ten Rounds!

BRAT!

She's My Vitals!

Three's a Crowd (But Four...) — “So, are they like holograms? Or can you really touch them?” “Why? Trynna cop a feel, sweetheart?” In which you and your boyfriend find very unconventional uses for his powers.

Why Can't I Keep My Fingers Off You? [Part 1] [Part 2] — There were two things missing in the scene in front of you: 1. The aphrodisiac chocolate your friends had given as a gag gift last Christmas that had been hidden away in the back of your refrigerator. 2. Your dear fiancé.

Dream A Little Dream — For the strongest, it was a privilege to dream. Especially when his dream is you. 

Initiation! — “Just a small initiation, nothing too serious.” Couldn’t be too hard, right? So why are you - the all-new frat sweetheart - being pinned to the bed and stuffed full from all ends by your frat brothers?

One More? Please? — A kiss always solves everything! But when a kiss turns into something more…well, it’s only a desperate attempt to unseal yourselves from this damned prison realm, right? Right?

Everybody Knows That I'm a Good Girl, Officers... — You don’t know what’s faster - how fast you were speeding down the highway, or how fast you’re on your knees for the hot officers that just so happen to pull you over.

Hope They Catch Us — When you’re on-screen, it’s always a rivalry to see who’s best - you just never thought that it would be the same struggle in bed.

Unmistakably Yours — In which the strongest bends space and time - literally - after coming back from deatḣ, to do what he’s always wanted to do - you.

Madam Gojo — Gojo Satoru, the strongest clan leader in all of Japan - and the most dangerous, too. You, rejected by the elders, and totally not his future bride, right? Right?

Can't Touch Me (Like Gojo) — In which intentionally making your fríend-with-benefíts jealous ends up with more benefits than you’d think.

The Heir — No, your clan leader husband won’t stop until he gives you an heir. No, you don’t think you’ll make it out alive.

The Call — After an explosive fight with your boyfriend, you really should feel sorry about being swept up by the blue-eyed stranger at the club - but it’s so hard when he kisses you like that.

Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy — He knows that you would be one of his favorite stories from his travels. And you know that you want nothing more than to stay by his side. After meeting an alluring cowboy at Ol’ Rustcliffe Saloon, both of you are sure of one thing - this must be fate.

Go For It, Gojo! [Part 1] [Part 2] — You wouldn’t fuck Gojo Satoru even if you were paid…is what you thought exactly five minutes before you were shoved against the wall of this cramped closet, his face stuffed in your soaked panties.

Unhoneymooners!? — The universe was surely playing a joke on you. Here you were, trapped on a luxury getaway with your - dangerously handsome, extremely obnoxious - ex. Either you were going to kill each other or end up pinned beneath him, split apart on his cóck. You just didn’t know what would come first.

AITA For F*cking My Sugar Daddy's Son?! — When your sugar daddy just isn’t paying attention to you, can you really be blamed for fúcking his son? Especially when his son is absolutely obsessed with you.

Bad Boys Bring Roses — You’ve never dealt with the yakuza - not once. So why is the future head of the Gojo clan suddenly coming up to you, demanding that you marry him for 30 days?

The Way You Kiss Me — The four times Satoru tries really hard not to kiss you - his best friend’s pretty younger sister. And the one time he doesn’t.

Isn't That Sweet? (I Guess So) — Oh no! Why do your pantíes keep disappearing? Well, maybe your hot roommate knows the answer…

Haunting You — A bIoody trail of vampire attácks, a political marriage, and four suitors you’re forced to choose from - all haunting you. But none as much as the mysterious stranger that makes everything in you scream that you might just be fated for the very thing your kingdom is trying to escape from.

You'll Taste Me Too! — How do you last three days on a work trip with the man you hate the most in the office? You don’t - you end up pinned underneath him, instead.

We Neva Play! — Turns out, the “r” in rivals stands for “really good séx” when a mission becomes a little too hot to handle.

Something Stupid — Five times the strongest would rather díe than tell you he loves you, and the one time he almost does. Almost.

Initiation! — “Just a small initiation, nothing too serious.” Couldn’t be too hard, right? So why are you - the all-new frat sweetheart - being pinned to the bed and stuffed full from all ends by your frat brothers?

Like An Animal — Of course Toji doesn’t want any more kids. Of course he’s lying as he stuffs your pretty cúnt full of his cúm for the third time tonight.

Whiskey, Neat, With a Side of You — When your date stands you up, you’re lucky that the hot bartender is more than happy to keep you company! 

Everybody Knows That I'm a Good Girl, Officers... — You don’t know what’s faster - how fast you were speeding down the highway, or how fast you’re on your knees for the hot officers that just so happen to pull you over.

F*ck You! (Literally) — Of course, you hated your ex-husband. Of course, you found yourself in bed with him on your wedding anniversary.

Government Hooker — With the fame and glory of being an international popstar comes the inevitable threat of an overzealous stalker. You just didn’t think that it would also come with a very sexy, buff bodyguard behind your every move.

Madam Zenin — There’s nothing that rouses Toji, the infamous head of the Zenin clan, nothing that will make him lose control - until they take what’s most important to him. You.

Brooklyn Baby — Everybody wanted to fuck Suguru Geto, lead bassist of Tokyo Special Grades. Said Suguru doesn’t want to fuck anyone else but you. He couldn’t give less of a fuck if anyone walked in right now. In fact, a small part of him wishes someone would.

Initiation! — “Just a small initiation, nothing too serious.” Couldn’t be too hard, right? So why are you - the all-new frat sweetheart - being pinned to the bed and stuffed full from all ends by your frat brothers?

Golden Boy — Falling right back in love with the cult leader you’re supposed to kíll? Happens more often than you’d think.

Initiation! — “Just a small initiation, nothing too serious.” Couldn’t be too hard, right? So why are you - the all-new frat sweetheart - being pinned to the bed and stuffed full from all ends by your frat brothers?

A Million Dollar Baby! — Turns out, rent can be paid in much more than one way.

Welcome To The Itadori's! — Three times Choso really, really wanted to hold you without his family barging in, and the one time he actually does. 

FIVE! — Five hours - it’s all it takes for Choso’s baby fever to take over. After all, you’d look so pretty with his kid - five of them, in fact.

Great With Kids? (You Can Have Mine) — When your younger brother gets a new babysitter, only two questions linger on your mind: 1. How come your parents didn’t trust you in charge? 2. How dare the sexy babysitter be so perfect - it made you want some attention too.

Freak On The Cam! — Choso always loved watching you - his pretty lil’ camgírl - from behind the screen. Who knew he’d love being on-screen with you even more?

Can't Touch Me (Like Gojo) — In which intentionally making your fríend-with-benefíts jealous ends up with more benefits than you’d think.

Exes who...

Love Is Blind

“She My Best Friend, Yeah We Not a Couple.”

Wanna Do Bad Things To You

I Wanna Get Freaky On Camera

Lemme Ride, Baby!

Can I Fill You Up, Baby?

"Pull On It. Harder."

Little Heaven

©2024 tonycries. All work belongs to @tonycries. Do NOT repost, modify, translate or plagiarize in any way on ANY platforms. This includes themes, headers, and pinned.

[prettyboykatsuki]

✮ tags ; gn! reader, established relationship, fluff, alcohol.

"Shouto,"

"Hm?"

"You're drunk,"

Your boyfriend leans his head on your shoulder and makes a noise in the back of his throat. "A bit."

More than a bit, you think. In actuality, you don't think you've ever seen him this drunk before. He's okay with alcohol, usually - but tends to stay away from drinking too much. You think the last time you saw him get actually drunk at all, you were both twenty and he was barely tipsy then.

He doesn't like getting drunk, he's told you before. A few times. The lack of control and hazy memories make him just slightly anxious, so he's careful around liquor.

You've been dating for years now, and unless he's living some double-life (a different one than being a hero) - you've never seen him get this wasted. Ever. To everyone else in your surroundings, it probably doesn't look that way.

But you've spent enough time to know him, and he's not like this usually. Nowhere near as absent minded he is now, at least. He hasn't been able to sit still since he downed that last bottle of shochu. He went to go play with Bakugou's cat, Momo and you couldn't find him afterwards. You lost sight of him for about half-an-hour until you finally found him in the living room while everyone else was outside, feeding Momo some treat that squeezes from a tube.

(You still don't know where or how he found where Bakugou kept the treats, but you decide it's better you don't ask. Plausible deniability, or something.)

You're both grown-ups, and you're not one to worry about his liquor intake. Still, though - you're worried. Even if it seems like he's not different to everyone else, you can tell. And it's bothering you.

"Shouto," You call out to him, your hands reaching to pet the back of his neck. He's a head taller than you, and a little heavy. Palms smooth against the prickly ends of his hair - tapered and neat. He presses his cheek to your shoulder. "Shouto, love."

"Oh," He says, suddenly remember where he is. He stands up but doesn't back away far enough to give you space. You're in a far off empty corner. Most people are in the backyard but Shouto wanted some air - so you're crowded against a wooden fence and wall with your boyfriend locking you in out by the entrance. He smells nice, you think - clean with a soft touch of aftershave. You look up at him. "Hi,"

"You're drunk," You repeat, watching him blink rapidly - bleary eyes and the faintest line of a smile whenever he glances at you. He's bent over, staring at you hard. "Is something wrong?"

His expression is the same as always. Unchangingly neutral with a strong and uncharacteristic rosiness to it. Your boyfriend is handsome, alarmingly so. You're aware of it constantly, but this new face knocks the air out of your lungs.

He's... pouting you think. But not fully. His lips aren't drawn together, it's subtle like most expressions on him.

But it's...there. You're not imagining it - the soft furrow of his brow, the press of his lips. His expression grows warmer and it only makes you more confused. He shakes it off, all of a sudden, a micro-expression that fades just as quickly as it appears.

"I'm okay."

"Are you?""

He blinks slowly at that. Concern aside, you can't help but think he's cute like this. His ears are pink enough to stick out against his skin, cold air making them flush even darker.

"I'm okay," He says, then looks at you. He sobers up if only for that moment. "Had something on my mind."

"Something you can't tell me?"

"It's supposed to be a secret," He mumbles. He's really drunk. You realize this late. "So I don't know if I can."

"Mm," You reply. You feel like doting on him suddenly, so you do, petting the back of his neck before hugging him a little. "That's okay."

He follows up with a light groan. You've never heard him complain like that, so you laugh. "But I want to tell you."

"I promise I'll keep your secret at least."

He smiles at you more fully that time.

He pauses for a minute, thinking it over. You don't do or say anything in return. A beat passes of you two standing and swaying with silence where Shout to grabs your hands from in front of you. You think he's being affectionate again, wanting to hold them.

He draws your hands to his pocket though. The angle is awkward, makes you bend your wrist on the inside of coat pocket until you feel something hard and square touch your fingers. It's velvet from the material. A box of some kind.

...A box?

Shouto guides your hand again, this time out. When you pull it out, his palm is over yours. It's a jewellery box. You blink a few times, confused. Shouto hasn't let go of your hand.

"I keep missing the timing," He says, hiccuping. The lack of sobriety more clear than ever from the slight slur in his words. "It's been in my pockets for a while."

Your eyes go wide open. You can feel your own confusion and excitement twist and tangle inside of you, frantic to get a better read on the situation. He smiles down at you, disarmingly and then closes his eyes. His forehead is warm as it touches yours.

"...I thought you didn't want to married. Not really, at least." You whisper.

"Me too," He says, a wetness to his laugh that tugs at your heart . "It was on a whim. I wanted to talk to you about it. But." He frowns a little "It's tough."

You chuckle, a sudden wetness to your voice too. "I bet it was,"

He smiles at you, big and stupid. "I love you," He closes is eyes and presses his forehead to yours more. "Thank you for everything."

"Shouto," You repeat, unsure of what else to say. "What brought this up?"

"Mm," He shrugs, getting sleepier by the minute. "I thought giving you my last name would make you suffer." He admits, soft and unsure. "But taking yours. That felt...okay. Felt nice."

"You're silly."

"Yes," He says, not denying it. "And I love you."

"And you love me." You repeat, a grin splitting your face. Big tears at the corner of your eyes, making your vision sting and your cheeks ache. You look up at him again. "Enough to marry me?"

He seems almost sheepish that time. "If you'll have me."

"Are you sober enough to even remember this?"

His embarrassment makes him blush and laugh again. "My heart is beating so loud I'm a little afraid of it. So yes. I'm sure I'll remember." He admits.

"Let's get married, then." You repeat to him, so achingly happy you think you could die. You wonder when to tell your friends. Bakugou will be pissed you did at his place. "If you'll have me."

He smiles. "I'd like too."

You lean up to press a kiss to his mouth, and Shouto holds you there to kiss you longer than you expect. When you're done kissing, he's smiling.

"Anymore secrets?"

He thinks on it, then hums.

"We should get a cat."

[luveline]

I would love to see more of badass reader x Spencer, but maybe reader gets hurt on a case (like a concussion or something) and only wants Spencer and we get to see more of reader’s soft spot for Spencer. Idk if that made sense or if that’s anything you’d be interested in writing. Love reading whatever you write!💕

thank you for your request and for reading babe!! —your singular soft spot for spencer rises to the surface when you get hurt in the field. fem!reader, 1.1k

Emily's foot tap tap taps hospital linoleum. The nurses are getting worried about you —your CAT scans are fine, but you're lethargic. Mildly concussed with moderate symptoms, you winced at the lights, told Emily to turn them off, and haven't said much since. 

She frowns. It's not nice to see someone who's usually so closed-off openly pained. "You okay?" she asks. 

"I wanna see Spence," you murmur. 

Emily nods slowly. She's had this conversation with you already. You have a spot of amnesia, nothing to worry about, decidedly temporary. 

"Why hasn't he come to see me?" you ask. Your voice trips and tumbles, your eyes glowing with a glassy sheen. "I thought he'd come to… make sure I was okay. But he doesn't want to see me." 

"Spencer's on the way here. He was an hour away with Hotch, remember? They're on their way." 

You twitch like a displeased cat under your sheets and turn away from her, sniffling weakly. Your shoulders heave with slow tears. Emily gets up to rub your back but thinks better of it when you stiffen. She doesn't understand how you function, doesn't know what it is about Spencer alone that you can be vulnerable with him and not the others, but she won't judge you for it. She just wishes there was more she could do. 

It's an untold amount of time between your tears and Spencer's awaited arrival. You're worse than lethargic, depressed, hand lax behind your back and unresponsive to the sound of the door. 

"She's asleep?" he mouths. His hair is limp either side of his face, flattened by anxious hands. 

"Upset," she mouths back through a frown, drawing a tear down her cheek with her pinky finger. 

He doesn't give Emily a second glance after that. 

"Hey," he says softly, rounding your hospital bed, touching the tips of his fingers to your hip and drawing a gentle line up your side. His head dips down, bending at the waist to see you better in the dim lighting. "Hey, what's wrong?"

You make a small keening sound from the back of your throat. It's so cleaving that Emily wants to leave, so painful that she wants to stay. You're her friend too. Emily cares about you, even when it hurts to do so.

"I don't feel like me," you say. 

Spencer doesn't shy away either. His expression is open, reassuring as he pops into a semi squat that can't be comfortable. His hand closes around your arm, thumb feeling the naked skin there sweetly. "It's normal to feel confused after a head injury. I promise it won't last." 

"I don't feel well," you say, small, like a scared kid. 

"I know." 

You reach for him. Emily knows Derek would never believe it, your hands stretched out almost desperately, the pleading noise yanked from between teeth normally gritted. Spencer wraps long arms around you with the ease of someone who's done it before, maybe exactly like this. 

"It's okay," he says. He's speaking with pep he doesn't feel. Emily can see he's stressed in the high pinch of his shoulders, but he's putting on a show for you. "You don't have to be scared. It's okay." 

The perpetual line carved between Hotch's brows seems deeper as he enters the room. Neither of you look up, your back loosening under the lazy back and forth of Spencer's hand. 

"Concerning, right?" Emily asks. 

Hotch ignores her, but not for lack of agreement. "What do her observations say?" 

"Mild to moderate head injury, post-concussion amnesia, fractured index and middle finger on her left hand." 

"Where are her clothes?" he asks. 

"They can't check her out until she gets her fingers cast and all she brought in her go bag was slacks." 

"I'll get her some pyjamas," Hotch says. 

Emily's not sure what's funnier, the idea of you in pyjamas, the image of Hotch choosing a pair, or the word pyjamas in his stoic murmur. He lingers to make sure you're okay, his eyes tracking the tremble of your arms as Spencer talks too low to hear in your ear, having sat down on the bed and curled himself around you protectively. 

You moan something sad and Spencer laughs, your hospital gown crinkling as he massages the top of your shoulder. "Why would you say that?" he asks lightly. "You think you know better than me? Really?" 

"Of course not," you say. If it were anyone else, you'd have knocked them off the bed already. 

"I don't remember you having an eidetic memory," he furthers. 

You actually manage to laugh for the first time since your initial injury. "I don't remember anything right now," you say. 

Emily leans over to Hotch. "You know, when we first came in, I suggested to the nurse that she might have amnesia because she kept asking me where she was, and she looked me dead in the eye and said, well, good thing you're not a nurse." 

Hotch scoffs a laugh. "It's a little surprising even now. Seeing them together, you'd never think it." 

"Think what?" Emily asks, fond rather than judgemental. "That she's as emotional as a China teacup?" 

"I'll remember for both of us," Spencer murmurs, stroking your face. "Okay? So calm down." 

Derek once told you to calm down and felt the cold of your icy attitude for a ragged week. Spencer says it and you take a visible deep breath, your head laying back in your pillows, his hand quick to cup the side of your neck. "Okay," you say quietly. 

"It's not just that," Hotch says, failing to explain further. 

He doesn't have to. Emily knows what he means. You can be snippy, aloof, unfriendly. But it's not just your softening that's surprising, it's Spencer's growing confidence. The ease with which he handles you, hands unabashed in their comforting. 

"Want me to find you something to wear?" Spencer asks. 

"We got it," Hotch interrupts. "Take it easy, Y/N. Rest." 

You nod obediently. He and Emily leave, hearing a last snippet of conversation as the heavy door closes behind them. 

"You wanna sign my cast, when they do it?" you ask hopefully. 

"Are you kidding? I'd love to. I've always wanted to sign someone's cast, and it's good for your morale." 

"Will they be in a cast long, do you think?" 

"They should be healed in about six to eight weeks, but you may not regain full strength for another two months afterward. There have actually been studies…" 

[docdudo]

Hybrid 141 As Parents - Foster Human Child!Reader (Part 5)

You were never one to complain. Living in the foster system means accepting all kinds of shit that comes with being an orphan in a stranger's house.

You almost never received any presents. It was rare the times you did get something at your placements, but if you did, it was a hand me down. Like the thin blue jacket you came wearing, that was a present from a divorced mother who kids were already too big for the jacket. Or the white dress that a christian family gave to you so you could go to church with them 'dressed appropriately'.

Well, you couldn't complain about that one. The simple white dress is to this day your 'fanciest' piece of clothing.

You wouldn't say you were that much of a picky eater either, but you certainly didn't like all kinds of food... which is pratically torture in the system. You just learned to push all kinds of food down your throat quietly, and if it was truly too bad for you to manage? You would simply come up with a weak excuse and run away from the food.

Being any kind of picky eater in the system was torture. Even worse if you have allergies. You knew a boy at your last group home that was allergic to glutten and peanuts, and he was basically as thin as you were. He was still bigger, being a cat hybrid and all, but at least you knew you weren't the only one suffering at these houses.

So imagine your surprise when John, the big hybrid dragon, spend his whole morning gently coaxing you to go shopping with him and Simon, to get 'things you might need', and 'snacks you might like to eat', and even 'go grab lunch at the mall'.

At first, you were too nervous and anxious to say anything, mostly just staring back at him as you fidgeted quietly in place. It took Johnny joining the conversation excitedly, Kyle sending you stupid thumbs up quietly from the living room couch, and Simon picking up the keys to their car while looking at you expectantly for you to finally agree to go with them.

So here you were, walking between two giants of men at a big and loaded shopping center, nervously trying to keep your pace matched up to theirs as Simon made sure to keep a hand enveloped tightly around your much smaller hand.

Worse of all? A lot of people were looking your way. Big hybrids like Price and Ghost weren't unnusual, but the small little human holding their hand surely was. Not only human, but a human under the care of hybrids. You wanted to burry your head in a deep hole and never come out.

"Darlin'." John's deep and purred voice called your attention immediatly as you looked up at him quietly. "Don't try and wander off, understood?"

You nod quietly, slightly intimidated by his tone and serious face.

"Good baby." He purrs out, giant hand coming down on your head as he messes slightly with the small strands there. "Now, sweetness, let's buy you some things."

"I... I really d-don't need anything..." You murmur quietly, a bit anxious about them wasting money on you.

Both of them looked at you with those serious expressions for a few seconds, considering you. John smiled slightly as he compromised, lifting both hands up.

"Then let's look around, if we find something, then that's good." His laugh is deep, slow and rough. It's clear the smoke from his dragon side had some effect on his throat. That, and he probably smoked cigars and cigarettes too.

You just nodded quietly, not willing to go against his word, as you three kept walking around. That is, until Simon grunted, fixing the surgical mask on his face and looking down like he was thinking of something.

".......what...?" You murmur softly, confused.

"I think you're breaking Simon's back, hun." John laughed deeply, shaking his head slightly.

"W-Wha...?"

"You're too small for me to hold your hand confortably." The wraith deadpanned. "Stay still."

"W-Wait, wh- Aah!"

You were stunned for a second, as you were suddenly held high up. Big, thick arms held your legs easily, making you sit in the crook of his elbow, as he held you to his side like a toddler. It was enough to shut your little squeak of surprise as you were just in shock now.

"Simon, I told you to be gentle." The dragon smirked slightly, tho his voice a bit more rough than usual as it seems to always have an edge of a growl on it.

"I am." The wraith grunted quietly as he started to walk once again. "This is the best option for the both of us. Right, luv?"

"A-Ah... I..." You were too flustered to properly say anything, but you still nodded your head slowly, trying to settle on his arms.

"See?" Simon smirked under his mask to John, as the older man simply rolled his eyes with a smile on his face.

"Say, darlin'. Do you like ice cream?" John offers out of nowhere as he smiles confidently, ignoring Simon's remark.

".....some flavors, yeah..." You mumble back, a little arm holding on Simon's shoulder as you looked around quietly, trying to ignore other people's looks.

"What's your favorite?" He asks easily, taking a different path as Simon followed close behind.

"...Vanilla is good..."

"Good, then vanilla is what you're gonna get." He answers simply, with the confidance you don't think you have ever seen on anyone else.

"...it's... it's really okay if you don't..." You try quietly, only to see him shaking his head slowly, looking over his shoulder that didn't have the wing, expression serious and stoic as his rough voice murmured.

"I provide to my hoard, little hatchling. It would do you good to remember that."

Those words, spoken in that way, was enough to immediatly shut you up, your body instinctively curling on itself (more on Simon really) at the sigh of an intimidating predator.

Tho, Simon didn't let you suffer in your fear and anxiety, as his big and wide palm settled on your small back, pulling you closer to his chest for confort as he was speaking, slow and quiet, even if his voice always sounded rough.

"Price's not mad, fledgling. Stay calm. He's not mad, much less mad at you. He's just a protective bastard." He snorted quietly, bouncing you a little on his arms to help you calm down.

"Watch it, Riley." Price mumbled, tho he had a small smile on his face as he slowed his pace a bit to stand by you and Simon, big hand now being placed on your upper back, which was a slightly shock due to how warm it felt. Simon was wearing gloves, but he felt much cooler. "And i'm sorry, baby, I didn't mean to scare you."

He was also doing that subtle baby voice, keeping his voice much quieter as he leaned in and gently nudged half of his face against yours, making you freeze a bit at the action. It really felt like a big animal was trying to be apologetic.

"If Kyle was here, you would've gotten an ear full." Simon commented simply as he watched, amused.

"Thank god he isn't." John huffs a little, stepping back. "I don't need mother hen scolding me for this. I didn't even growl." And now, he was leaning slightly closer again, that quiet and gentle tone coming back as he looked at your small, nervous face. "I'm not that scary, am I, darlin'?"

"'Course you are, for a small little thing like this?" Simon laughs roughly, shaking his head, his grip in you getting firmer.

"I-I'm not scared..." You mumble quietly, playing a bit with the sweater that they lent it to you yesterday, not making eye contact with either of them.

"Of course not, darlin'..." John cooed deeply, tho his tone made it clear that he wasn't taking your answer seriously, rubbing your head gently. "Come on."

In the end, they got you a vanilla ice cream on a big cone, that you were licking it quietly. They were speaking with eachother as they planned what next things to buy, and what stores to visit. You weren't paying that much attention, just focusing on your vanilla ice cream as Simon carreid you around.

You got used to him carrying you, and now, you were much more confortable on his hold.

"Baby, look here." John's voice once again called your attention as you lifted your head from the ice cream to stare at him. "What do you think of this blanket?"

You tilted your head to the side, slightly confused, but you reached for the soft blanket he brough close, feeling the fuzzy, confortable texture.

"It's... good." You mumble, unsure about what to say.

"Just good?" John asked, considering your answer, looking between you and the blanket, before putting it back in place. "Let's see others, then."

You were not entirely sure what John was trying to do. Maybe buy you a blanket, but... you already had lots of blankets on the bed they gave you. And on the weird nest on the middle too.

Still, you got distracted once again with the ice cream in your tiny hold, going back to licking it. You were already getting a bit full... you were never the biggest fan of ice cream, you got tired of it fast. So, as you looked quietly to the side to stare at Simon's face, you gently brought the cone close to his face, making him look at you passively.

"Do you want a bit...?" You mumble softly, only to see the man pushing his surgical mask to his chin and taking a big bite out of the ice cream you were holding in front of his face.

You managed to see his scary, pointy and large teeth, the slightly too long and sharp tongue at the action, making you instinctively shudder on his hold. It was natural, a human watching their predator showing their dangerous teeth like it was nothing. Still, you were thankful for his help.

"Oww...." You turned a bit alarmed to John's direction as you heard the dragon's deep croon, his eyes getting half-lidded and pupils dilating. "Always soft for the hatchlings, aren't you, Simon?"

Simon just hums, swallowing the ice cream and licking his lips simply, keeping his serious expression.

"I'm used to being the kids' trashcan." He... joked? You were not sure, since he kept his face and tone so stony, but by John's laugh, you deduced it was a joke.

"Here, hun, how does this blanket feel?" John asks as he brings another fuzzy blanket close, light blue and full of colorful little dots.

"Good... confortable..." You mumble, feeling the material.

"Hmmm...." John considered once again, humming as he squinted his eyes.

"John, you know humans don't nest. She's not going to have hard instincts towards blankets." Simon comments, almost bored as te took another bite of your almost finished ice cream.

"I know, it's just... different to see it." John nods slightly before shrugging. "Do you like this color, little one?"

You just nod quietly, now understanding a bit more what was going on. Indeed, you shouldn't expect nesting instincts from a human, but even you could tell when the blanket was confortable and made from a good material.

"Come on, doll. Let's see what else we can find for you before having lunch." John mumbles softly, leaning close once again, quickly kissing Simon on the lips, who kissed back easily, and then kissing you on the forehead gently.

They were... very nice. Even if a bit scary.

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

im not sure what it ia, but i LOVE the little remora. i love it i love it i lvoe it

it makes me insane id love to groom ghosts scales, and everyone elses scales. i want to clean soap up, even if he see's poor ol remora as a toy to play with, i just wanna scrub them all up!

(i love this already. i love mer's)

the more shark mer Ghost pushes you away the more you wanna take care of him so so bad <3

you find yourself pouting a lot at Ghost’s surly attitude, darting up and down his big scarred body, as he tries to nap. tries to, but can’t.

it has nothing to do with you. he has these bouts of insomnia. but they make his temper real short.

regardless! you insist he needs to let you groom him. it’s been days. you get twitchy when he makes you skip your daily grooming with him. the rituals. the rituals are intricate.

“i’m trying to rest, you little pest,” he growls. "come back later. or not at all."

you tell him (tartly) that he said that yesterday and the day before.

“i meant it then and i mean it now. go away before i decide to chase you off.”

like he would. he hardly exists during the day as anything but a grumpy seafloor log. you swear you’ve seen bottom-feeders start nibbling on him he’s so inert.

(nibbling on him is your job.)

you settle down on the sand next to him on your stomach. you don't touch him yet, but he's just within reach. you stare at his pale, scarred sharkshin with bright eyes, practically vibrating in place.

he can feel your eyes on him. worse—he can feel the impatient flicking of your tail fin agitating the water as you stare at him. how can such a small creature be so terribly full of want, he wonders. your anxious energy is like too much salt in his gills.

“i will bite you," he warns. “i’m not in the mood.”

rationally, you know he doesn't like to be touched sometimes, no matter how you insist he'll feel better once he's clean. and still your anxious mind won't calm down until you're absolutely sure you've made yourself useful.

you lay your palms on the silt, fingers inching silently closer to him.

he growls, low and dangerous. the one that means he’s run out of patience and is about to make good on his threats.

you jolt and flatten yourself against the sand in instinctive submission. you’re not a threat, see? you’re harmless. you’re basically just a little piece of seaweed, c’mon.

your instant compliance does nothing to calm him. if anything, the sight of your immediate surrender drives him to double down.

he grabs you by the by the nape of your neck and lifts you up to eye level. “i warned you not to touch me.”

your stupid little heart leaps because all his attention is on you now. you want to wrap your hands around his eagerly, want to reach out and touch his chest. but you can only get close enough to skim his chest with your clawtips.

the sensation only makes him tense.

you quickly bring your hands in and wring them, trying to stop being a bother. "please can i—"

he glares down at you, teeth bared. “no,” he snaps. cold, firm, immediate.

but the more he tries to repel you, the more desperately you want to please him. to get back into his good graces. you feel every bit the creature full of anxiety and neuroses he thinks you are--always trying to figure out how to feel useful and stay on the other mers' good side.

he can see that in your eyes—the desperate need to be useful. it’s what he hates most about you. he can't stand how compliant you are at this moment. how desperate. how eager you are to please even after he's been nothing but cruel to you.

he squeezes you. your body thrums nervously in his grip.

“you little parasite. what part of ‘don’t touch me’ is so hard for you to understand?”

all of it. you stare up at him with big, blank eyes.

“you can't get the simplest instructions through your thick skull, can you?"

you shake your head (kind of, best you can) in his grip as a shameless display of agreement. he’s right, you’re stupid. so stupid.

Ghost scowls. eager, willing to degrade yourself at the smallest fucking thing.

"don't tell me you're getting off on this.”

okay! you won’t.

at that, you see the look in his eye shift from anger to something more devious. your response is so quick and willing that he can't help but smirk.

of course. of course you’d comply. no matter how hard he pushes, how cruel he is, you simply ask for worse. you're a little masochist. a nuisance. worse, you’re his nuisance. you insist on being around him, on seeking him out every bloody day.

he tolerates your presence. that's more than anyone else gets. and you take the precious little patience he gives you and wear it threadbare??

he can’t abide that. he can’t let your audacity go unchecked.

"look at you," he hisses. "eager to debase yourself at the first sign of anger. don't you think that's just pathetic?"

you nod enthusiastically.

mindless creature. willing to let him treat you any way he wants if it means attention. pitiful.

"say it," he growls.

you do. you happily tell him you’re pathetic.

“that you are. finally, something sensible out of that pretty mouth.”

you’re wired—fucking blitzed at the mere implication of good girl in his tone.

“and you're my little parasite. mine to do with as i please."

your whole body wants to curl in delight, your tail twisting like an eel in the sand below you as he eases you onto your back.

his eyes rake over you. you are the picture of obedience and submission, all pinned down and ready.

“look at you,” he rasps. “so desperate to please me. you’d do anything i tell you right now, yeah?”

yes. yes. anything.

he leans in and puts his mouth to your ear. "then let me sleep."

then he’s gone.

you lay in the sand in blank, sexually charged confusion.

by the time you slap your tail into the sand to twist yourself up into the water, half-flustered and hot-tempered, you see the ends of Ghost’s chewed-up tailfins disappear into his favorite dark cave.

before you can give chase, the familiar shape of Soap passes overhead, and he's chuckling as he dives down to you.

Soap’s grin widens as he watches your face cycle through frustration, confusion, and irritation.

you can’t believe Ghost would do that to you.

“of course he’d do it,” Soap says. he saw the whole thing.

you bluster and he coos a little teasing sympathy at you, ushering you up into his arms instead. poor wee cuttlefish, he calls you. lays it on thick because he knows you're looking for a place to expend all that pent up energy now.

he whisks you away somewhere more private so you can tend to him instead. groom him all you want. tell him your troubles. maybe let him make good use of your compliant nature. he tells you it’s a good way to make Ghost jealous.

meanwhile, Ghost is finally able to snooze contentedly, dreaming of you, maybe. he does owe you a little thanks for that small catharsis you gave him.

...

more mer au / more Ghost / masterlist tag

[endless-ineffabilities]

my man of the year

Ewan Mitchell x girlfriend!reader

a/n: just a little something for the Ewan girlies, because in this GQ party, we are all fam 💙

main masterlist

You attend the GQ Men of the Year 2024 party with your boyfriend.

You watch in admiration as Davey makes the final tweaks to Ewan's outfit for the event—a suit tailored to perfection, its velvet material snug against his lean form. A classic piece, but sporting some eccentricities that have become essential in the Mitchell-Sutton style partnership.

The velvet suit, not in the usual black or blue, also has a textured high notch and lapels, making him look like some kind of an 80s-flick vampire.

Your gaze sweeps from his polished shoes up to his face, finding that he's watching you in the reflection as he stands in front of the mirror.

He tries turning around to see you better, causing Davey's hand to fall from his shoulder as he was pinning something in place. "Ewan, mate. Save the ogling for later, yeah? Let me finish this first."

Ewan sighs dramatically, like a kid who's been asked to stand in the corner. "Okay."

You giggle softly, shaking your head at the scene. "Ewan, listen to Davey now."

You share a look with Davey, knowing smiles on your lips. Ewan, am I right?

"I just want to look at my girlfriend," Ewan complains.

"Look at me?" you question. "Look at you, handsome! You're my man of the year, every damn year."

"C'mere, babe."

"Ewan, don't move until Davey—."

"I won't move. But come here and give me a kiss."

"Fine." You get up from your comfortable position on the seat. Might as well oblige your boyfriend, the GQ honouree. Just the thought of it makes you so giddy with pride.

Rising onto your tiptoes, you rest your chin gently on his shoulder, batting your eyelashes as he leans his head against yours.

"There's my girl," he purrs, wrapping his free arm around your waist and Davey works on the sleeve on the other.

Then he kisses you, mindful to stay perfectly still. Only his lips move, pillowy as they caress yours. You would have to reapply your lipstick after this.

When he cheekily snakes his tongue out, you pull back, giving him an incredulous shake of your head. "Stand down, handsome."

"Oh, don't worry about me, sweetheart," Davey reassures you. "Maybe we should let Ewan have his way. Poor guy looks like he's about to explode."

You all share a laugh.

A minute later, he's all ready. Davey snaps photos of him alone, then shifts to capture the two of you together. He even manages a few that feel like classic prom poses, with Ewan's arms around you from behind.

The rest of the night is a blur of lights and glamour, and the warmth of Ewan's hand on your back quells your nerves as you step onto the red carpet.

The cameras are everywhere, a sea of flashes and shouting for you to, look here, look here!

Ewan keeps you close the entire time, steering you through it all. You can feel that he's anxious too but he's a steady presence by your side. He used to need a crutch like cigarettes or gum to deal with the chaos of such public events, but when you're with him, the noise is silenced.

It's just you and him against the world.

When his arm tightens around you, you jokingly remark, "Didn't peg you for the clingy type, babe."

He glances down, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. "Just making sure you don't run off with some other dashing celebrity."

An idea pops up in your head. He makes it all too easy. You let out a shaky gasp, "Wait, is that Pedro Pascal over there?"

"Where?" he asks sharply, distracted.

"By the big GQ sign. Don't make it obvious, though!" you whisper, as if you're entirely serious.

He squints, scanning the sea of people coming through the red carpet, until he realizes… there's no Pedro. Not yet, at least.

He turns to you with a playful glare, his mouth twitching with the hint of a smile. "You think you're funny, don't you, baby?"

You give your best wide-eyed, innocent look. "Who, me?"

"You're asking for it," he whispers close to your ear so the cameras don't catch it.

You only laugh as he pulls you closer, giving your waist another possessive squeeze.

"And what exactly are you gonna do about it?" you ask.

"Guess you'll have to find out after we're done here."

When he kisses you, you both know that the resulting pictures are going to flood the gossip sites, fan pages, and everything in between as soon as the next day. But neither of you care.

He makes sure that there's no mistaking who he came with that night.

And you would never tire of showing everyone just who your boyfriend is. You could scream it from the rooftops.

He doesn't need GQ to tell him he's one of the honourees of the year.

All he needs is you by his side to feel like he's truly won.

[cottonlemonade]

Dating You For A Bet [Part 3]

word count: 2145 || avg. reading time: 9 mins.

pairing: University AU!Matsukawa x chubby!Reader

genre: angst, comfort

warnings: like one time swearing

[part 1] [part 2]

As soon as the dorm room door closed behind you, your shoes were practically flung off your feet. With a deeply satisfied sigh you stretched and wiggled your toes, slowly feeling the numbness subside. You weren’t used to wearing heels but thought that a third date called for the occasion.

“How was it?”

Confused, you turned around as if your roommate could have possibly meant anyone else. She hardly ever spoke with you so this was absolutely a first.

She was sitting cross-legged on her bed, computer on her lap, and brushed her headphones from one ear.

“The… date?”, you asked cautiously, standing frozen in front of the wardrobe like a deer caught in headlights.

The other girl nodded.

“It was… nice?”

“Just nice?”

“He was sweet.”

“That was your second one this week, right? Are you gonna keep seeing him?”

“I’m sorry. I’m still trying to figure out why you’re talking to me.”

She shrugged.

“Because I’m curious.” When you still didn’t say anything, she explained, “I’ve heard all over campus what happened, and… it sucks what your ex did. And I saw how sad you were about it but I’m also really impressed with how you’re handling it now. I guess I just wanna say that at first, I thought it was a really dumb rumor because you were both so obsessed with each other. It didn’t make any sense.”

That brought you out of your stupor. You turned to put your jacket back in the closet and tossed the shoes carelessly into the void somewhere to other disregarded things.

“Yeah.”, you said after a small pause.

“Do you think you’ll get back together?”

Now it was on you to shrug.

“Why d’you ask?”

Your roommate turned the laptop so you could see. It was a live feed of the current varsity volleyball match. Issei was just being switched out and the camera stayed on him as the coach kept talking very fast and gesturing towards the court in an unmistakably urgent manner. Issei simply bowed his head and nodded to his shoes, kneading the pads of his fingers against the water bottle like he always had done when he was anxious. The clip was only about five seconds long but it was obvious that when he turned around to look at the stands behind him he was searching for someone.

Your roommate moved the laptop back so that the screen was facing her again.

“He has been off all game.”

“Well… too bad.”, you said and grabbed your towel and shower caddy.

With three days left until Christmas, the first snow fell. After your tear-filled kiss with Issei at the bench two weeks ago he had left you alone. No more notes, no more loitering around waiting to talk to you and you wondered if this was really how it would be from now on. You figured that finding out you were dating someone else had spooked him into hiding. However, just as you were sure you would never speak another word with him you heard a commotion outside your door. Calls and hollerings were echoing through the hallway from the girls on your floor and you and your roommate both looked up from your essays to then exchange a questioning head tilt with each other. The large pizza carton between you was pushed aside and, brushing your greasy hands off on your washed-out sweats, you got up to see what was going on. When you opened the door you saw four guys hunched over with their heads ducked between their shoulders looking as uncomfortable as can be. Issei, meanwhile, was pushing a fifth down the corridor toward your room. You recognized them now. It had taken a few seconds without their usual sneers.

Your ex had them stand in a row in front of you and then all but one knelt down. Issei gave the last one a tap with his foot on the back of the knee to make him match the others. Heads hung low and hands resting on their thighs, one after the other bowed in deepest apology with their foreheads almost touching the linoleum. The middle one, whom you remembered as the idiot who suggested the bet, began to speak as Issei stood behind them all, arms crossed, a smirk on his lips.

“Y/n-san,”, the middle one said, “we’re very sorry for… for the whole thing.”

Issei cleared his throat. All the girls from the surrounding doors giggled and kept their phones focused on them to film while you were gaping like a fish.

“- for making the bet about you. It was terrible and immature and you didn’t deserve to be treated like that. We ask for your forgiveness.” A general murmur of apologies went through the row of kneeling guys.

“Here.”, the middle one fished a crinkly envelope from his hoodie and held it up to you with both hands, “This is the money from the bet. Please accept it.”

“No, why would I want your money?”, you replied in disbelieving disgust.

“Okay.”, your roommate weighed in quietly and slipped past you, snatching the envelope, “I’ll be taking that.”

You frowned at her.

She raised her hands in defense. “Pride and integrity are great and all but we are still students at the end of the day. This will at least fund next month’s pizza parties. I’m just saying.” And she retreated behind you, adding, “Carry on.”

“Just leave me alone and don’t ever talk to or about me ever again. And the sooner you realize that you are nothing but pathetic worms that peaked in high school the sooner you can go to therapy which you obviously need.”

The boys seemed to wait for something, then Issei said, “You heard her. Fuck off.”

All five scrambled to their feet and pushed through the audience of sniggering girls to get away.

Incredulously, you looked at Issei who was very obviously very satisfied with himself.

“How did you even…?”

He chuckled and shrugged as the surrounding crowd slowly dispersed and went back into their rooms and about their days.

“You didn’t beat them up, did you?”

“Worse.”

He walked over to you and leaned casually against your doorframe.

“I called their moms.”

Your roommate snorted and went back to her essay.

There was a pause in which Issei realized that for the first time since the breakup, you didn’t regard him with the previous hurt or anger. His smirk faded into a small unsure smile and he switched between glancing at you and his hands, “You look pretty.”, he muttered, then pushed himself off the doorframe, “Have a good night.”

The clip of the five guys kneeling in front of your door (from varying angles) was all over the campus forum for days giving you finally a different sort of spotlight and leading your fellow students to turn their attention and energy to hackling the bet-makers rather than you. It was a welcome change of pace.

On Christmas morning then you were bundled up tightly in your coat and scarf and trudged through the freshly fallen snow on your way to the library where you would pretend to study while in all honesty, you would just be scrolling on your phone. All just to escape the omnipresent merriment. You had to walk past Issei’s dorm, something you had avoided doing for weeks and instead had taken the much longer route.

“Y/n!”, you heard a shout from overhead and when you looked up into the soft flurry of snow you spotted Issei waving from his window, “Wait there for a moment!”

Two flights of stairs later, Issei jogged through the lobby towards the glass front door to hold it open. “Could you come up for a second, please? - It’s nothing weird, I promise.”, he added when he saw your skeptically raised brow.

You followed him silently until you reached his door.

With a flourish, he opened his room and was met with a wall of smell from a whole bunch of different essential oils. He coughed and flitted into the room to open the window again, using a notepad to fan the air. The whole room was decorated with candles and garlands and even a small fake Christmas tree that obviously had needed a bit of persuasion to stand up straight on the bedside table.

“Sorry.”, he pressed out in between coughs, “I went around the whole building for candles but they all just had scented ones.” He kept feverishly fanning the icy cold air into the room, ignoring the thick snowflakes landing on and soaking through his pillow. A long dead plant in a pot on the windowsill caught the flame of a candle as he waved around the notepad and began to slowly burn to a crisp. “Oh!” He tossed the notepad onto the bed and grabbed the mostly empty can of an energy drink to pour over it.

“Anyways.”, Issei turned around as if nothing had happened and cleared his throat, “You once told me that you were kinda dreading Christmas because you couldn’t go see your family and I promised that I would spend Christmas with you and make it fun, so!” He jumped to his dresser and retrieved a red tin containing slightly burned, painstakingly decorated sugar cookies and handed them to you. Then he turned around and rummaged under his bed until he pulled out a Santa hat and reindeer antlers that he placed on top of the tin in your hands, “I also have your favorite Christmas movies -”, he waved toward his laptop, “you don’t have to watch them with me, of course, but they’re there if you like - and”, he picked up a note from his desk, “here is the list we made of all the Christmas activities that you wanted to do. We can go through them one by one.” You noticed how the paper shook slightly in his hand and how he swallowed a lump that seemingly had formed in his throat while awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. “Mistletoe is kinda inappropriate now but I guess you can… slap me instead if we’re both under it. But the snow is good for a snowball fight and to build a snowman and make snow angels and-“

“Issei!”, you said firmly to stop his ramblings, “This is really nice of you but I’m not in the mood to play in the snow right now.”

“Right… uhm.”, his eyes darted back to the paper in his hand for another idea, “We can go to the coffee shop for that holiday drink I told you about.”, he suggested excitedly instead.

“I… already went and tried it last week with my roommate.”

“Oh…”

“Yeah.”

“Did you like it?”

“It was nice, yeah.”

“Good. Good.” After a short pause, he followed up with, “I’m glad.”

He then hesitated, opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it again and put the list back on his desk.

You looked around the room - the leftover paper shreds next to the trash can from the cutout snowflakes, the wonky bow on top of the cookie tin, the over-laden Christmas tree. All the effort and genuine thought he had put into everything at the very least made you want to accept his peace offering.

“I wouldn’t mind having it again, though.”, you heard yourself mumble.

“Really? You sure?”

You shrugged.

“Alright, lemme grab my jacket.”

“You should put out the candles.”

“Right!”

“Alright, order placed.”, he announced when he sat down across from you, holding up the little buzzer that would let you know about your drinks.

“How have you been?”, he asked.

“Good. Better. I aced that exam I was so worried about.”

“Knew you had it in your pocket.”, Issei nodded and turned the buzzer nervously in his fingers.

“Let me just tell you that I know there is no excuse for what I did. But know that I am not done apologizing for it. You are everything to me and I am kicking myself every day for not realizing it the moment I saw you. You deserve nothing but the best and I’m glad you found someone who can make you happy.”

“Thank you.”, you allowed yourself to smile, “I appreciate that.”

“So… what’s he like?”, he asked, trying very hard to sound casual.

“Who?”

“Your new boyfriend. Do I know him?”

“Well uhm, he isn’t my boyfriend.”

“Oh?” His fingers turning the buzzer slowed ever so slightly.

“Yeah it just…”, you sighed and shrugged, “didn’t work out.”

You would under no circumstances ever tell him that it was because you had called him Issei while he kissed you. You would take that to the grave.

“Aw, that’s too bad.”

“You know this would be a whole lot more convincing if you weren’t grinning like an idiot.”, you smiled.

taglist: @samoankpoper21 @reikashe @jasminelee324

[part 4]

[moonstruckme]

Hi lovely! Can you do poly!wolfstar or either of the two with reader who suddenly feels rlly overstimulated at a party despite the fact that she parties a lot? Thank you! <33

Thank you for requesting <3

cw: overstimulation, not explicitly a panic attack but looks p similar, thick crowd/claustrophobia

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

The crush of bodies is almost too dense to see through. Luckily, Remus can look over most heads. 

He ought to have known better than to try to carry three drinks on his own. Nearly a third of the one that’ll have to be his has spilled down his hand and wrist, the three of them held over his head as he pushes through the crowd. It’s a rather large apartment, but an apartment still, which Sirius' coworker has absolutely packed with people. Remus is fairly sure if he looked over he’d see the door to the hallway is open, party guests spilling out into the hall where the smoke from cigarettes and spliffs floats back inside. It’s a nice home, but it smells like any underground club now, like smoke and drink and too many bodies. 

You and Sirius aren’t where Remus left you. He doesn’t think much of it. It’s difficult to stay in one place with this many people moving about like undisciplined schools of fish. He skims over the tops of heads until he finds a familiar one, Sirius’ dark hair gleaming in the low light of a corner. He’s holding you close to his front, your face in his neck and his hand cupped protectively over the back of your head. He looks like he’s speaking into your ear, dark brows pinched. 

Remus’ heart clenches. 

He spills more of your drinks as he hastens to you, sets them down on a mantle on the way. Sirius catches his eyes when he’s nearly there. He says something to you, rubbing your back. 

“Hi.” Remus has to speak louder than he likes, over the sound of too many other voices. He devotes one hand to the back of your neck and the other to Sirius’ shoulder. “Everything alright?” 

Sirius shakes his head. He looks anxious. “I don’t know what happened,” he says. In a sweeter voice, his hand moving over your back, “I think we’ve just got a bit overwhelmed, hm?” 

You haven’t reacted to Remus’ presence. Now that he’s closer he can see you’ve got your fingers curled in the front of Sirius’ shirt like a lifeline, your grip tight and rigid. 

Remus gives Sirius’ shoulder a squeeze. “Sweetheart,” he says gently, “can you look at me?” 

You turn your face from Sirius’ shoulder. Your eyes are glassy and wide, your chest falling in quick, short pants. You look like you don’t know what’s happening to you, either. 

“You’re okay.” Remus presses a kiss to your temple, looking around to assess your options. “You’re okay, my love. We’re going to go somewhere quieter, alright?” 

The door’s too far. If the crowd’s what’s overwhelming you, it could only make things worse to push through. There’s a line for the only bathroom. But there is a balcony, not too far and better than nothing if you can get to it. 

A speaker nearby booms as Remus reaches for Sirius’ hand. He’s murmuring to you, something Remus can’t hear over the music, but he looks up at the touch. 

“You’ve got her?” Remus asks.

“Yeah.” 

“Okay.” He presses a quick kiss to the back of Sirius’ hand before starting to tug the both of you along. 

The crowd parts more easily for Remus than it would for either of you. He mutters sorrys and excuse mes as he plows through with the two of you in tow. Sirius keeps you held tight to him, your hands still fisted in his shirt. When Remus opens the sliding door to the balcony, the difference in both air quality and noise level is pronounced.

“Can we have some space, please?” Remus asks the couple smoking outside. His voice comes out sharper than he intends, curt and all business, but he can’t find it in himself to regret it when they quickly put out their cigarettes and head inside.  

Sirius helps you into a chair. “I know, baby, I know, just take a breath. We’re okay, see? Everything’s alright.” 

Your first deep inhale sends twin tears tumbling down your cheeks. It shudders back out of you. You seem like you’d been frozen, trapped inside your own head, and now you’re coming back out. 

“There you go.” Remus’ voice is softer now. It aches in the back of his throat, worry and love and guilt at leaving you two alone. Though you did have each other, and it seems it’s a good thing you did. “Just keep doing like that, babydove. We’ve got you.” 

Sirius looks pained at your tears, but he rubs your leg and crouches on the floor so that Remus can take the chair beside yours. Remus sets a hand on his boyfriend’s head as he sits, smoothing down his hair to rub between his shoulders comfortingly. 

They let you work through most of your anxiety in silence, offering only the occasional murmur of encouragement or weak, consoling joke about fire codes. Eventually your breaths even out and your tears stop. You let your head loll onto Remus’ shoulder, expelling a sigh. 

“I don’t…” you mumble. “Don’t know what just happened.” 

They’re both relieved to hear your voice, Sirius squeezing your leg affectionately while Remus smooths a few pieces of hair from your face. “There’s an awful lot going on in there,” says Remus, lips a whisper away from your hairline. “Gets to be a bit much, yeah?” 

“I guess.” You sigh again, almost frustratedly. “Sorry, it’s not like I’ve never been to a party before. I don’t get why I did that.” 

“You don’t get to be sorry,” Sirius says lightly. He drops a kiss above your knee. “The only person who should be sorry is Michael, when the fire department shows up here because he’s got too many people in his fucking one-bedroom apartment.” 

“You tell ‘im.” You sound exhausted. Your head weighs heavy on Remus’ shoulder. 

He touches his lips to your hairline. “You feeling ready to call it a night?” 

You hum. “I could be, but I’m also okay with sticking around if you guys want to.” 

“Oh, my sweetheart.” Sirius surges upward, hugging you around the middle. His nose nuzzles your shoulder, and you smile tiredly, patting him on the back. “You can’t stay here for us after all that. Fuck, I don’t think either of us want to stick around, either.” 

“No,” Remus agrees. “This crowd is horrid. I’m ready to go home.” 

“I’m ready for pajamas, and cuddles, and” —Sirius’ voice grows muffled as he mushes kisses into your neck— “our soft, soft bed.” 

“You make it sound quite nice,” you say, smiling for real now. “I guess I could call it quits for the night. Twist my arm.” 

“Yeah, I won’t be hearing any arguments. I want to go home, and you carousers can’t stop me.” Sirius plants a final, firm kiss on your cheek, grinning too. 

“It’s going to be a bit of work to get through to the door,” says Remus. He brushes his thumb gently over the place Sirius’ lips had touched, chest warm with affection. “Once you’re feeling up to it, we can go.” 

“Oh.” You turn your head to look in through the window at the densely packed apartment. “Do you think we can take a few minutes out here first?” 

“Course, sweetheart.” Remus kisses your head, easing it back down onto his shoulder. “Take all the time you need.”

[keikikait]

ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴇ (ʀᴀꜰᴇ ᴄᴀᴍᴇʀᴏɴ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ)

this is part two. for part one, click here!

pairing: rafe cameron x f!reader, (not au, both are early to mid 20's)

word count: 4.6k

summary: you wait up for rafe after he leaves you for sofia

warnings: ANGST/THEMES OF DEPRESSION. please only read if you're comfortable!, reader literally sits on her couch for 2 days, forced undressing (not sexually), no smut but they shower together, rafe is trying to be good i promise, i haven't finished s4 so if i get shit wrong about his house i'm sorry, not proofread

a note: ik i just posted part 1 yesterday but like. i had to keep cooking. let me know if you want a part three! also, i think this is my longest fic to date...

please reblog and like, it means a lot! let me know what you think!

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You wait for him all day. Like the good girl he expects you to be.

You shower and pamper yourself, trying to take the edge off, but it’s all for naught. You were going to be an anxious, stressed mess until you heard those three knocks. You sit, fully dressed in a simple crop top and miniskirt, watching TV. You don’t dare move from this spot, just in case he decides to come home to you early.

The clock strikes one, and the waiting is too much for you. You're anxious, stressed, nervous; everything that you didn't want to be. The waiting feels like hours but also like seconds, the seconds ticking away painfully slow and too fast, the minutes and hours passing without your realization or intention.

You watch the TV with unseeing eyes, still sitting on the couch, fully dressed. And then it strikes two. And all you can do is wait some more. You don’t know how long you’ve been sitting there. You’ve already made it through a season of the show you were watching, mindlessly staring at the screen.

Sitting. 

Waiting.

The sun starts to set, orange and pink hues streaking across your living room. You don’t move from your spot, starting to grow even more anxious. The tag on your shirt is starting to irritate you, but you don’t dare to move. You didn’t want to miss him, didn’t want to miss the knocks from your bedroom. 

The sun completely sets, the only source of light coming from your TV. It’s just a few minutes after 6:00pm, but the room feels dark, so much darker than any other night before. Your phone vibrates, dancing across the coffee table, but it isn’t Rafe, so you don’t answer it, not wanting to miss the three knocks. Your patience grows thin, and each second feels like an eternity. Waiting is never a pleasant thing. Waiting for him is even worse.

6 PM turns into 9 PM, and suddenly it’s midnight. Rafe never came home.

You continue to stay up, pinching your arm occasionally to wake you back up. You didn’t want to miss him. You had a habit of being a heavy sleeper and sleeping in, and you knew that you would miss the knocks. 

You grab your phone, scrolling through Sofia’s Instagram with shaky hands. There was no point in checking Rafe’s, he barely posted. The little pink ring swims around Sofia’s profile picture, and you click on her story.

The first story is from 12 hours ago, showing a plate from a fancy brunch spot on the mainland. The date he ditched you to take her on. The next story is from 10 hours ago, a shot of both of their hands holding cups of ice cream on a pier somewhere. He was wearing the gold Ouroboros ring you bought him, and it makes your heart clench. The next story is from 7 hours ago, a selfie of her looking frustratingly gorgeous in Rafe’s bedroom, the covers pulled up over her bare chest.

Did they fuck? Even after everything that happened last night?

The last story is from 3 hours ago, a selfie of them together outside a sushi restaurant, her arm around his neck while he looks off into the distance, a cigarette in his mouth. He’s still wearing that stupid ring.

Did he forget about you?

It wouldn’t be the first time.

You hope, foolishly, that he would text you, tell you he’s running late and that he’ll be there soon. But he doesn’t. You don’t move to text him first, knowing he won’t respond anyway, especially if Sofia is next to him.

You set your phone down, feeling completely overwhelmed. The possibility of them sleeping together tonight makes you sick to your stomach, but you wouldn’t put it past Rafe to do something like that. Especially after what he said yesterday.

She’s my girlfriend.

And you were just his…what? His friend? His side chick? The other woman? A warm mouth and a tight hole that he sought out when he was done with Sofia’s shit?

You drop your phone onto the floor, grabbing the pillow from under your head and pressing your face into it, trying to silence your sobs. It takes everything in you not to scream into the pillow, your body shaking with the force of your sobs. How could you be such an idiot? He never fails to make you feel so naïve. You thought last night would change everything between the two of you, but it didn’t. 

All it did was remind you how worthless you were, that you were just his second best. Maybe the picture that you painted of him looks better in your mind.

You suddenly jump when your window slams shut. It blows open again before slamming once more, your curtains rippling with the wind. You get up, shuffling across the room. You shut the window, drawing the curtains closed, but not before looking out of them to see if Rafe’s car was parked outside. 

It wasn’t.

You lay back down, resting your head on your pillow, starting to stare at the screen again. You make it through a few more episodes of whatever the hell you put on before it suddenly shuts off. Even the show’s characters didn’t want to be with you. Your head is pounding, your throat is dry, and your eyes are red-rimmed and swollen from your tears. Your heart aches, and your lungs sting with every breath you take.

You don’t even move to turn the TV off or try to fix it. You just lay there, crying in the light of the TV static.

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The sun rises, and you don’t get up at first. 

You didn’t want to move, just in case he showed up, but part of you knew deep down that he wouldn’t be coming back anytime soon. You fix the TV before laying back down, staring mindlessly at the screen, trying to distract yourself. You reach down onto the floor, grabbing your phone. You check Sofia’s Instagram again. The little pink circle around her picture taunts you. You click on it anyway, wiping the tears out of your eyes.

Joining the remaining stories from yesterday is one new post. A selfie of her with a clay facemask on, one eye closed as she blocks the sunlight with her hand, lounging beside Rafe’s new pool. She’s wearing a necklace with a diamond ‘R’ charm on it, as if she’s personally rubbing it in your face.

You lock your phone, putting it down on the floor before sliding it away with a flick of your wrist. It doesn’t go far, hitting one of the legs of your coffee table. You change the show on your TV, picking some true-crime documentary before laying your head back down.

You watch the show with distant eyes, feeling completely numb. You don’t know why you keep checking her account, knowing it would just make you feel even worse. But you do it anyway, because maybe deep down you deserve it. You think about texting him, asking him if he’s coming over today. But you don’t dare. You don’t want to come off as a clingy whore. 

Your phone buzzes from the floor, vibrating the coffee table, startling you. You stay on the couch, reaching across the floor with one hand and grabbing your phone. You eagerly turn it over, expecting it to be from Rafe, maybe a long apology text, or even just a simple ‘On my way over.’ The phone doesn’t immediately light up. You hate that feature. You tap on the screen, your face immediately falling.

It’s just an email from your electric company about your mid-cycle usage report.

You let out a sharp scream, chucking your phone against the wall. It doesn’t shatter, but it bends around the sharp corner of the plaster.

The scream of frustration is cathartic, but it doesn’t last long. It’s quickly replaced by the feeling of loneliness that has become so common these past few days. But right now, it seems like a million times more unbearable. You start to cry again, burying your face back into your pillow.

The sun sets, and then it gets dark. You don’t move.

You can’t move. What if he comes back? What if this is the time he knocks? You can’t miss them. You can’t miss him. You curl yourself into a pathetic heap on the couch, hoping that he’ll come back. He will. He has to. He has to know how miserable you are. He has to realize how badly he’s hurting you and actually care about it this time. 

But each hour feels even more hopeless than the last. You stay up, wide awake, all night thinking about him. You don’t hear a single knock. You don’t see any headlights or cars pulling up into your driveway. There’s nothing but crickets in the distance and the sound of your heartbeat in your ears.

You barely pay attention to the show in front of you, staring with unfocused eyes at the screen. The sun starts to rise, casting a soft pink hue onto your living room. You’ve been sitting on your couch for two days, waiting for a man who probably doesn’t want you. Two days. Two days of sitting here, hoping, praying that he would come back. Two days of sitting here like a fool, waiting for a man who’s with someone else.

Yet you can’t seem to find the motivation to get up. You can’t. Just in case, this time, he shows up.

Your head throbs, your heartbeat pounding in your ears. You shut your eyes, burying your face in your pillow. You wish you were laying your head on his chest instead. Your thoughts are too loud, too consuming, too overwhelming. It’s hard to think clearly, to sort things out in your head. You’re so exhausted, mentally and physically, that you start to doze off.

You fall asleep, face buried in your mascara stained pillow.

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Your eyes suddenly shoot open when you feel your shoulder being shaken and a hand on your face.

“Hey, sweetheart. Wake up, I’m here.” Rafe’s voice is like music to your ears. Soft, low, deep. You feel his large hand against your cheek, his thumb gently stroking your skin as he tries to gently coax you awake. He’s here. After two long days of no food, no shower, no company except your own miserable thoughts, he’s here.

“Rafe?” You ask, head and body aching from two days of laying completely still on your uncomfortable Ikea couch.

“Yeah, baby. I’m here.” Rafe says, his voice soft and gentle. His fingers trail along your cheek, his hand so big against your face. He tries to hide it, but you can see the slight grimace on his face as he takes you in. “Are you okay? I tried calling you this morning, but you didn’t answer.”

You glance around, trying to take in your surroundings. You finally fell asleep, and judging by the slowly setting sun, you slept for a while. “My phone, I um…” You gesture to the smashed phone laying across the room.

Rafe sighs, his brow furrowing as he glances over to your smashed phone. “I’ll buy you a new one.” He says, looking back at you. His expression falls, and his eyes narrow. “How long have you been sitting here?”

“Two days.” You say, sitting up. You’re still in the same crop top and miniskirt, your hair starting to feel greasy and itchy.

“Jesus, baby.” Rafe exhales, shaking his head. “Have you eaten anything?” He asks, brushing your messy hair out of your face gently.

“I was waiting for you.” You say, completely ignoring his question. “You said you would come back. I was waiting for you.” You look up at him, feeling completely and utterly pathetic.

His eyes soften, his hand moving to cup your face in his palm. “I know. And I came back, like I promised.” He says soothingly, his thumb stroking your cheek gently. “Baby, you look terrible.”

“No, you promised me two days ago that you would come back.” You say, your voice growing thick as you start to cry again. “You said after your brunch date with Sofia that you would come back.”

Rafe opens his mouth to speak, only to close it again. He doesn’t say anything for a while, as if trying to come up with something to say. His expression shifts slightly, from sympathetic to something else, something almost akin to guilt. He sighs, finally speaking, “I’m sorry. I know. I didn’t realize how late it was until it was too late to swing by here.”

“So you left me hanging for an extra day?” You ask, reaching up to wipe away a stray tear.

“I’m sorry, alright?” He says, still gentle, but a hint of irritation is there. “I know I said I’d-… I said I’d come back, but I lost track of time, baby. I had to hang out with her for a while to keep up appearances.”

“Oh, fuck you and your appearances!” You say, standing up. You lose balance, reaching down with one hand to balance yourself on the arm of the couch. “Just admit that you didn’t want to see me.”

Rafe reaches out to steady you on your feet, frowning. “That’s not-… I did want to see you.” He says, his voice growing sterner, more irritated. “But I had other obligations. I had to keep up appearances. I told you that.”

“Don’t expect me to believe that bullshit, Rafe.” You say. You try to pull away from him, but he tightens his grip on your arm. “You can just dump me, you know.”

“Yeah? So can you.” He snaps back, his grip on your arm tightening even more.

Your face and eyes twitch slightly, your chest aching. You feel so stupid. Your breathing starts to escalate, coming out of your nose in short puffs. “Let go of me.”

“No.” He says, his voice hard, stern. He still grips your arm tightly, not wanting to let you go. He knows you well enough to understand that you would storm off, maybe even lock yourself in your bedroom. Both of Rafe’s hands move to your hips, pulling you closer. “Sweetheart, look at me.”

“No!” You shout, trying to pull away. You twist around, reaching down and trying to tug his hands apart. “You can’t do this to me!”

“Baby, look at me! I said, look at me!” Rafe raises his voice, finally using his strength against you, pinning you against his chest with his arms around your waist. He’s got you pressed flush against him now, one hand grabbing your chin and forcing you to face him, your neck craning. “Look at me when I’m talking to you, sweetheart.”

You squirm and wiggle, starting to cry. “You can’t treat me like this!”

His grip tightens, his jaw tensing as he grips your chin and face roughly. It almost feels like he’s manhandling you, forcing you to stay in place as he glares at you. His blue eyes have a hard edge to them. “I will treat you anyway I damn well please, sweetheart. You’re in no place to make demands or tell me what I can and can’t do. I said, look at me.”

You finally meet his gaze. You just sit in his grasp, sniffling as more and more tears threaten to fall. Your bottom lip trembles, and you wonder if you look as pathetic as you feel.

Rafe sighs, his expression growing soft. He loosens his grip on your face, his thumb caresses your cheek. He takes a deep breath, counting to four. “Come on, sweet girl. Let’s get you cleaned up.” In one swift motion, he picks you up, tossing you over his shoulder as he makes his way towards your bathroom.

“No! Let go of me!” You whine, pounding your fists against his back.

“Quit it.” He snaps, reaching behind his back and grabbing both of your wrists, yanking your hands away from him as best he can. “I swear to god, sweetheart, I will spank you if you don’t stop punching me in the back.” He pushes open the bathroom door, setting you down on the edge of the bathtub, your wrists still in his grip. He turns on the shower, waiting for the water to warm up before turning to you with a sigh. “Take off your clothes, sweetheart.”

“No.” You whine, trying to tug your wrists away.

He scoffs, exasperated. “I’m tired of having to repeat myself to you, baby. You’re gonna take a goddamn shower even if I have to force you to, so drop that attitude real quick, or I’ll strip you myself.” He leans in closer, his eyes darkening, his jaw clenching again. “You wanna be bratty and defiant with me? I can get real bratty with you right back, sweetheart. Real bratty.”

Your eyes water and your bottom lip trembles. Rafe sighs, taking another deep breath. He had to be nicer to you. “You gotta shower, baby, come on.” He grabs the bottom of your crop top gently, thumb rubbing along the hem.

You sniffle, wiping your cheeks. When your scalp starts to itch, and you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, mascara smeared, you realise he’s right. You raise your arms up.

“Good girl.” He says, sounding relieved. He reaches behind you to grab the bottom of your shirt, slowly pulling it up over your head. He can see how exhausted you are, how awful you look and how horrible you must feel. He gently drops your shirt on the floor, gently running a hand through your hair with a sigh. He reaches behind you and grabs the waist strap of your skirt. “Lift your hips for me, sweetheart.”

You obey, lifting your hips.

Rafe slides the skirt off your hips and down your thighs, setting it on top of your shirt on the floor. He then grabs the waistband of your panties, kissing your hipbones as he tugs them off of your legs and adds them to the pile of discarded clothing. He then reaches forward, gently running his fingers through your hair. “You’re so pretty, baby.” He says, his voice quiet.

“Thank you.” You whisper.

He can tell that you’re still upset with him, and while he’s annoyed by it, he tries to maintain his composure, trying to be patient with you. He steps back, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it aside before undoing his jeans. “Come on, pretty girl. Get in the shower while I undress.”

You nod, standing up on shaky legs and stepping into the shower. Your muscles instantly relax under the water as you step in, back facing the water.

Rafe watches you for a moment, his gaze lingering on your body before you shut the curtain. He quickly discards the rest of his clothes. Slowly, deliberately, he steps into the shower behind you, not wanting to startle you. He reaches over and moves you a little to the side, giving him room under the water to stand with you. He gently spins you around so your back is facing him, the water hitting your chest. He glances around the built-in ledges of your shower. “Where’s your stuff?” 

You point to the metal shelves you stuck onto the wall, full of expensive products, all gifts from Rafe.

He glances over at the shelf, noticing how neat and precise everything is. Rafe laughs as he grabs your shampoo. “God, you always gotta have everything organized.” He teases, pulling you against his chest with an arm wrapped around your torso, his strong hand pressed against your stomach. He kisses your shoulder before lifting your hair away from your neck to kiss there, his chest and abdomen pressed flush against your back. 

He pours a fair amount of the shampoo into his hand, setting the bottle down. He hasn’t had to actually wash his hair in so long, he forgot what a normal amount of shampoo looks like. He rubs his hands together, lathering it up before starting to gently massage into your scalp. “Keep your head tilted back so you don’t get anything in your eyes.”

You tilt your head back, reaching back and putting your hands on his ribs to keep steady.

He hums in approval as his fingers work, rubbing and massaging your scalp. His body is relaxed against your naked curves, his fingers now working through your hair slowly, ensuring it’s completely lathered before he moves onto the conditioner. He keeps the conditioner in your hair while he washes your body. You reach up and grab your face wash yourself, squirting some into your hands before thoroughly washing your face, trying to get the two-day-old mascara off. Rafe keeps his arm wrapped around your upper body so you can keep leaning against him.

After rinsing yourself clean, he turns the water off, pushing the shower curtain open. He grabs a towel for himself off of the hook by the shower, stepping out. “C’mere, baby.” He says quietly.

You step out, watching as he wraps the towel tight around his waist. He grabs another from your linen closet, holding it open for you. “Arms up, sweetheart.” He says, waiting for you to obey, and you do, lifting your arms. 

Rafe quickly wraps the towel around you, gently rubbing your body to dry you off. He then pulls you close, hugging you. One hand holds the back of your head, the other resting on the small of your back. He’s been craving the feel of your bare skin for the past two days, and it was nice to finally feel it again. “I’m sorry.” He says, quietly, sincerely. His lips graze your forehead.

“Why couldn’t you have just texted me?” You ask.

Rafe pauses, sighing. He was worried this would come up at some point. He tries to choose his words wisely, so he won’t start a fight so soon after the initial one. “Because… I…sweetheart, I was trying to keep a low profile with her.” His voice is just above a whisper. “Texting you would have let her know there was something going on.”

You shake your head. “You could’ve texted me and then immediately deleted the conversation. She wouldn’t have noticed.”

“I thought of that,” He starts, his brow furrowing. “But the thing is…she looks at my phone sometimes. So I just didn’t want to risk it, alright?”

You look away as he starts to dry your hair with the towel. “I wish things were different. I wish you could change.”

“That’s not fair, baby.” He says, his voice holding a hint of warning. He’s annoyed with you again, but he tries not to lash out this time, especially when taking into account how much he missed you. “You act like I don’t want things to be different.” He runs the towel over your head, gently squeezing your hair to wring out the excess water. “Do you even have enough respect to see me try?”

Your breath hitches. You watch him as he finishes with your hair, wrapping the towel around your chest. 

“I love you, Rafe.” The words tumble out of your mouth before you realise you even said them. “Of course I have respect for you. Of course I want you to try.”

Rafe pauses, his shoulders relaxing as his expression softens. He smiles at you, his eyes looking into yours. He grabs your hips, his thumbs rubbing along the soft skin there. He sighs, closing his eyes. “Then don’t act like I’m evil when I do try.” His voice is quiet, soft. “I mean it. Stop acting like I’m a complete ass to you, sweetheart, because I have been fucking trying.”

He didn’t say he loved you. You don’t care how crazy and clingy you sound at this point, you have to know. “Do you love me too?”

Rafe opens his eyes, his expression growing serious all of a sudden. He pauses for a moment, searching the gaze of your eyes. His hands on your hips move to your lower back, wrapping around you and pulling you close against his chest. His chest is warm against your bare breasts, his body firm and strong. “Baby, that’s a stupid question.”

“You didn’t answer it.” At least just lie and say yes. Please just say that you love me more.

He sighs, his grip on you growing tighter. One of his hands moves up to the back of your neck, holding you in place. He lifts your chin up with a single finger, looking into your eyes. “Loves never meant much to me, sweetheart. I mean… Ward told me that he loved me, and you know exactly what he did.” Rafe brushes his thumb across your cheek. “But…yes, I do love you. You’re the only one I truly love.”

“Promise?” You ask, your voice quiet.

Rafe holds that strong eye contact for a few more seconds before his face softens more, his gaze softening in his eyes. “I promise, sweetheart. I swear on my life. I don’t love anyone else as much as I love you.” His other hand runs up and down your sides, fingers spreading across your skin.

“Not even Sofia?” You ask.

“Especially not her.” He says, pulling you even closer against his chest. He’s growing agitated again. “I told you this before. Everything with her is fake, completely fake. I’m with her for appearances. All she is, is a pretty face.”

You want to believe him, so you do. You lay your head on his chest, wrapping your arms around his torso.

Rafe sighs, relieved that you seem to finally understand. He rubs your back, one hand wrapping around your neck to keep you held against him. He kisses the top of your head, resting his chin on top like before. “Don’t ask me that question again, sweetheart.” He says, his voice gentle, yet stern. “You know I only love you, there’s no need for you to ask such dumb questions.”

You nod. “Can you stay tonight?”

He sighs, nodding. “Yeah. I can stay tonight.” He takes your chin in his hand again, tilting your face up to look at him. “Can you promise me something, though?”

You take a deep breath. “Anything.”

His brow furrows again, his thumb rubbing along your jawline. “Don’t ever doubt my love for you, alright? I can’t deal with that self-loathing bullshit you pull sometimes, sweetheart, you got that?”

Your eyebrows furrow slightly. You weren’t expecting that. But at this point, you’re so desperate to lay down with him that you’ll do anything he wants. “I promise, Rafe.”

He smiles, kissing your forehead. “Good girl.” He says, his voice gentler. “Now, let’s get you into bed, hm?” You nod, wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist as he carries you to bed. He lays down next to you, tucking you in before handing you his phone. “Pick out what new phone you want.” When you look confused, he sighs. “I told you I would buy you a new one because you destroyed yours.”

Oh, yeah. This has been the longest two days of your entire life, and you weren’t even sure if any of that actually happened.

Rafe unlocks his phone before handing it to you, picking something to watch from the small TV on your dresser. You scroll through his pages of unorganised apps, before finally finding Google, typing in the newest iPhone model. You buy yourself a new phone in your favourite colour, all on Rafe’s dime. You’re tempted to text Sofia pretending to be Rafe and tell her it’s over, and to leave you alone, but you don’t. Rafe loved you, and Rafe wanted you. He could dump her himself.

You lock his phone, handing it back to him. He sets it on your bedside table, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you close.

If it’s meant to be, then it will be.

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let me know what you think my lovelies!

part 3 is here!

★taglist: @ietss, @loves0phelia, @drewsphswife, @pillowprincess4him, @maybankslover, @theeternaloptimistt, @jumpme300, @xcinnamonmalfoyx, @matthewswifeeee. reply to this post if you would like to be tagged! italics mean i couldn't tag you! x

[parfaitblogs]

baby it's halloween ❀ s. reid x reader

in which a mutual friendship leads to a run-in with your ex, and it's halloween, which means you can be anything. even normal with him right?

pairing: ex!spencer reid x fem!reader genre: smut (18+ mdni) tags: garcia party in rossi HOUSE 💜. alcohol consumption. reader's dressed as a swan (stunning gorgeous amazing). pre established friends with benefits (don't fuck your exes). s10 bau team is there in spirit i think. crazy spare bedroom hookup. brief nipple play. oral (f receiving). fingering. p in v. he dresses you afterwards. porn with plot. oral fixation. soft dom!spencer.  word count: 3.8k a/n: ex spencer reid makes a comeback. this is separate from bad idea right? but same pairing same sitch kind of same everything. LOL. thanks for giving me costume ideas guys. parfaitblogs revival!!! happy birthday spencer reid!!! happy halloween criminal minds tumblr!!!

"Penelope, what the fuck are you wearing?"

It was a very loud exclamation, over the sound of party music that certainly didn't match the overall theme of Halloween. It was only nine o'clock but the fox eared blonde in front of you had lip liner painting her chin, a pink flush on her cheeks barely hidden beneath a layer of makeup, and two cans of some multicoloured premixed vodka drink you weren't sure about trying (despite her holding one out to you). 

"Fox costume. I'm Agnes! From Fantastic Mr. Fox!" Penelope says, cheerfully, urging you to take the drink she had in her hand, not relenting until you did.

"We agreed on swans," you huff, feeling awfully stupid now, in your all white costume, a pair of fluffy wings settled on your back. 

Penelope looked genuinely apologetic for changing her costume idea on you with no warning, and so as she rambled about how she got excited after seeing fox makeup on her phone, you decided it wasn't actually that big of a deal. She finished her spiel with a comment about still technically matching because you're both animals, and it was enough for you to accept. 

She led you further into the house. House, because she had convinced one of her coworkers to let her host a Halloween party at his, claiming her apartment was far too small for such a thing. Apparently he was very easy to convince. 

It was a quick tour of where all the most basic of amenities on the first floor were, before she was shoving a shot glass of vodka into your hand, and encouraging you to take it. 

So you did. 

Perhaps it was a loosening up technique she was using in an attempt to keep you from ripping her head off when she began another conversation with you with the words,

"So, I need to preface before you get too drunk—" a sentence you really had never hoped to hear in your life "—that Spencer's here."

You're not too sure why your world begins to crumble around you at that fact. You figured he would be. In fact, when you were choosing the articles of clothing for your costume a week ago, you had the idea of Spencer Reid seeing you in mind. You had mentally prepared for seeing him. And yet; panic. 

However, instead of making a scene about how anxious that thought made you, you force a small smile onto your face and murmur out, "That's fine."

"Are you sure?" Penelope presses. "You can hover around me the entire night to avoid him, if you want. I'll stay away from him. I'm really sorry for inviting him."

You didn't like that. "No. Pen, it's okay. He's your friend."

"So are you."

Your heart stuttered in your chest at her words, a warm feeling spreading throughout it. But, ultimately, you were not the person who wants perfectly good friendships ruined because you're too scared to hold a relationship together. 

"I'll get drunk enough and start talking to him anyways. It's fine," you reassure her. 

And get drunk enough you did. 

You had bumped into him a few times already, making awkward eye contact when you passed him on your way to the kitchen for another drink, or to the bathroom to fix your corset that felt like it was getting tighter every breath you took. 

Yet here you were, stuck between the fridge and him, a collection of things you wanted to both beg him for, and cuss him out because of, sitting delicately on the tip of your tongue, waiting for the right trigger word from him.

Unsuccessfully, for he was rocking back on his heels, clasping his hands around the glass of water he was nurturing, keeping the peace between you two and staying silent. 

And you couldn't have that. 

"Hi. How are you?" you chirp after closing the fridge, a can you were getting for Penelope and not yourself now settled between your hands.

"Hi. I'm good," he says, sending you an all too familiar tight lipped smile. One he always did when he was feeling awkward. "How are you?"

"This is really formal," you say, tilting your head to the side. "I'm good."

He nods his head in agreement, and you find every curse word you had ready to yell at him dissipate in an instant. "I like your costume. Swan?"

"Yes," you nod your own head, forcing the flutter of your heart to stop.

You weren't sure what he was when you had first arrived to the party, but a few short exchanged words between the two of you revealed the fake teeth he had settled in his mouth, confirming Penelope's earlier guess that he was a vampire. 

Fitting, you had almost said then. 

"I like yours too," you say after a few beats of awkward silence and you realising you hadn't said much after his compliment. 

"Thank you."

It was an awkward song and dance around the elephant in the room (your relationship, or lack thereof). An even more awkward interaction of him reaching behind you into the fridge to get out a drink for Morgan, and then a breathless apology when he had gotten a bit too close and you hadn't had a conscious enough mind to step back.

"I don't like this," you blurt out.

"What?"

"This. Us," you clarify. "Being awkward. Not talking. We talk fine when we hook up."

Because yes, there's that secret you were keeping hidden away from Penelope. 

"We're preoccupied during that."

"I'd argue seeing each other naked once a week is much more awkward than bumping into each other drunk, at a party."

"I'm not drunk."

Right. You knew that. Spencer Reid didn't drink. It was why the cup in his hand was only water, and the alcoholic beverage in his other wasn't for him. 

If you were any less buzzed you probably wouldn't say the unfortunately very embarrassing sentence you let leave your lips, that sounded a little foreign even to you. 

"Then do we need to see each other naked tonight to make this not awkward?"

His lips parted and he froze, rightfully so. You weren't sure how you'd react to somebody asking you that either. It seemed awfully blunt for even you, and if you were any sane person, you'd probably be backtracking to take it back. Instead, you were just as frozen as him, fearful for how he would respond. 

"No," he says, but there was a strain in his voice that told you otherwise. Thankfully, you had enough self restraint to not call him out on that. 

"No?" you tilt your head to the side.

"No, we don't need to. Do you want to?"

Does it make you a horrible person to say yes? To take advantage of one of the many rooms littering the Rossi house, and use a situational run-in to have sex with your ex-boyfriend?

Probably.

"Yes. Do you?"

"I like how you look tonight."

Your heart rate speeds up. "That isn't an answer."

"Yes," he says. "I do."

The kitchen was left empty with a glass of water and two unopened cans on the countertop, that Derek Morgan was no doubt bound to discover when Spencer never returns. Followed closely by — probably — Penelope discovering the same about you. Which would probably lead to the discovery of the friends (were you friends?) with benefits situation the two of you had. 

You've barely stepped into the spare room he had located before he's kissing you. Feverishly, devouring you whole, as your back is pressed up against the door. Your wings dug into your shoulder blades, the feathers tickling your arms, and yet you couldn't find it in you to care. 

"Spencer."

His response to your plea of his name is to kiss you harder, fingers entangling in your hair, and you think if he pushes against you any more, you'll meld to the atoms of the door. 

"You taste like alcohol," he mutters against your lips. 

"Funny that."

"Are you drunk?"

"I'll remember this all in five minutes, if that's what you mean."

"Sort of."

His mouth detaches from yours, and there's a desperation in the way he kisses down your neck you don't think you'll ever get used to, no matter how many times he does it. 

It was a heartbreaking reality of the difference between how he would have sex with you then, and now. 

It's his grumbling that forces you to focus on him again, and not the comparative thoughts you have whirring in your brain. His fingers are fumbling with the lacing on your back, as he says, irritation you find almost hilarious in his tone, "I hate corsets."

"You said you liked it earlier."

"I liked it when I wasn't trying to take it off of you."

You smile. "I'll wear something more convenient for you next time."

"Yes. Thank you," he nods, successfully loosening the lacing enough so he could take the corset off of your body. "T-shirts are good."

"Duly noted." 

"Or nothing. Nothing's better," he adds, leaning in to kiss you again, his hands dropping to your chest — completely bare, considering you couldn't justify the wearing of a bra beneath the corset. 

"I'll ask the board."

You feel him smile against your lips, his hands cupping your chest, thumbs delicately running over your nipples to elicit a breathless whine from you. Ever so careful, he uses his thumbs to circle them, amused with just how easy it was to fluster you.

His lips trail down from your lips again, his hands dropping to your waist, using his hips to nudge you towards the bed.

The backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed and you wince, although any pain dissipates as he murmurs a gentle apology and lowers the two of you to the bed. 

It's quite amusing; the articles of clothing you're removing from your bodies. You didn't think feathered wings and a Dracula-esque cape piling together on the floor would be a sight you ever saw in this context, and yet. 

"What do you want, honey?" he asks you, though your brain is a little preoccupied with his pulling of your skirt down your legs, fingers brushing against your skin. He forces your focus back onto him again with the calling of your name, and a kiss to your inner thigh. 

"What're you willing to give me?" 

"You know I'd do anything."

Your heart soars. Yes, you do know that. He loves to prove that feat to you. 

"I don't know," you shake your head. "Whatever you want. You choose. My gift to you this Halloween."

It was a tradition you had started with him three years ago, on your first Halloween together. You knew how important the holiday was to him, and so you had bought him a plethora of decor for his apartment (on top of what he already had). You had helped him set it up, and later that week he had gifted you a charm bracelet with a pumpkin clasp. Every Halloween since, you bought him more decor, and he bought you a Halloween inspired charm for the bracelet. 

This was your first Halloween where you weren't together. 

"I didn't get you a charm."

"That's okay," you reply, earnestly. 

"You're so wet," is voice is breathless, changing the topic of conversation awfully quickly. For his eyes had dropped to the only item of clothing you still had on, and his fingers had trailed far enough up your thighs to brush over it. 

"Do something about it then," you retort, bluntly, and he smiles amusedly. 

He probably murmurs something about you being a brat, but his hands were pulling your underwear down your legs, and you should not be expected to focus on two maddening things at once. 

Thankfully, he does do something about it. And quite quickly, too. Wasting no time teasing like he usually does, instead attaching his lips to your core, tugging a moan from your lips. 

His tongue licks a stripe up the centre of your folds, circling your clit, expertly so. 

"Oh God," you whine out, breathlessly, head falling backwards and digging into the mattress beneath. Sinful as it was, Spencer's tongue on you did feel like the closest thing you'd ever have to a religious experience, a thought that had crossed your mind the many times he's done this before. 

Once he's sure his tongue flicking over your clit had worked you up enough, you're forced into shock as you feel one of his fingers at your entrance. Lack of hand-eye coordination aside, he's well versed in the art of using two different body parts at once to make you come, and yet you're still writhing beneath him like it's the first time.

Sometimes it felt like it was. 

"Spencer," you nearly cry out, if not for your hand flying to your mouth to muffle how loud you had anticipated you'd be. 

He pulls his lips away at that, instead lifting his head to hover over yours, as he pushes a single finger inside you. Even when your eyes flutter closed and your head tilts back further, you can still feel his gaze on you, as if in awe of the way you looked. 

"That was so easy," he murmurs, leaning down to kiss your cheek. "You really did want me to do this tonight, hm?"

Too wrapped up in the feeling of being touched by him again, all you can do is nod your head, and you feel him smile against your cheek. 

"Yeah, I know, sweet girl."

He captures your lips again, swallowing a string of moans that leave your lips when he begins to move his finger in and out. Finger that becomes fingers, for he's pushing another one in, and you're arching your back up as you attempt to accomodate to the stretch. 

"I know, I know," he repeats when your head jerks back as your lips part in another, this time silent, moan. "I shouldn't have missed last week, hey? I'm sorry I was out of state."

You want to tell him it's okay. That you didn't really mind being celibate for an extra seven days on top of the six the two of you leave between your nights together. Unfortunately, growing accustomed to a once a week cycle meant the interruption of it left you overwhelmingly easy to shatter with the simplest of touches. You did mind, so you kept your thoughts to yourself. 

"Please," you ask him, almost pathetically, when he curls his fingers and your entire brain goes fuzzy.

"Please what, honey?"

You're not sure what. More of his fingers? His tongue back on you? You want it all. Yet, time was unfortunately of the essence, and you were acutely aware of the ticking alarm clock in view on the bedside table. You did not have the minutes to receive absolutely everything you wanted from him.

"Want you to fuck me," you murmur. 

He breathes out a laugh. "I know. I'm going to, I promise. I just need to get you ready first, okay? How're you feeling?"

"Ready." Your voice is an impatient grumble, one that amuses him greatly, which frustrates you even more. 

"I don't think so," he shakes his head, pushing his fingers back inside of you to elicit a sharp whine from your lips. "I want to do this a little longer, anyways."

"Spencer."

Your protest and attempt to bribe him with a kiss is hopeless, for he is continuing to pump his fingers in and out of you, using your arguably selfish kiss to quiet every single sound you make. 

It isn't until you're quite literally writhing beneath him and begging him with an incessant repeat of his name, does he pull his fingers out of you. Tapping your lower lip with them, you take his fingers into your mouth, despite your panting and attempts at catching your breath. 

You want to close your eyes, but the way he's looking at you as you suck on his fingers is borderline ridiculous, and you should probably be locked up for just how attracted to it you are. 

He trails his fingers out of your mouth after a few moments, but any desire to protest that is lost on you when your eyes catch his removal of his boxers. 

He disappears from above you for only a minute, though he knows you too well and says, "I'm getting a condom," before you have a chance to start complaining about it. By the time he's returned, he's kissing you again, and you've forgotten all about your irritation.

The head of his cock pushes at your entrance, and you're already a mess. He's slow as he eases into you, and you're eternally grateful for it, because your entire body tenses up, and he's forced to pause, and ease your muscles with his hands kneading your thighs. 

"I'm sorry," he says, genuinely, when your eyes squeeze shut, and you're back to remembering why you're not happy about the dreadful thirteen day celibacy he forced upon you. But he's so nice, and so apologetic, that as he bottoms out, your hands are wrapping around his neck to provide him with silent forgiveness. 

He stays still for a few more moments, his lips tickling your jawline. His breath fans your skin, warm, and just as desperate as your own, which is comforting. 

"Tell me when you're okay," he says, quietly, breathing out a moan when your walls flutter around him. 

After a beat, you murmur, "I'm okay," and he pulls his hips back, before rolling them back into you, slowly. 

You're a puddle of content and pleasure and love as he repeats the gentle motions of fucking you, moaning and squirming beneath him, despite his hands on your hips in an attempt to keep you still. 

"Doing so well for me, honey," he tells you after a few minutes, and heat warms your cheeks at the compliment. He laughs at your bashful smile. "You feel so good."

He moves his hips a little faster, and you're moaning again, hands dropping from his neck to the mattress. At that, he picks up his ministrations once again. All up until all the tender, slow motions are gone, and he's listening to your throat produce broken whines and pleas, his own presenting breathless groans.

"Spencer," you gasp out at one particular thrust, and he's instantly repeating that same deep movement. "Oh fuck."

"Like that?" he asks you, tenderly, and you're frantically nodding your head. "God, look at you. You're so pretty when I do this to you, you know?"

Vulgarity — in any form — coming from Spencer Reid's mouth should sound foreign, and yet it doesn't. Though, perhaps you're too lost in the pleasure of just how good he feels to believe he's anything but perfect.

"I want to come," you tell him, a disguised plea.

"Okay. I can make that happen."

You know he can. He's proven it a thousand times, you're sure. 

One of his hands drops to your cunt, fingers finding your clit and timing the circles onto it with his thrusts, until you're pretty sure there is no longer a coherent thought in your brain that isn't simply him.

If his aim was to turn you into a mess with very little time, he was excelling above average. Your hands had grabbed fistfuls of the duvet cover atop of the bed, your mouth producing nothing but a constant repeat of, "Please," and "Spencer," one after the other. 

He wasn't surviving very well, either, you found. His breathing heavy and his thrusts growing sloppier by the second, until he was feeling your own walls clench around him with your stomach tying itself into a knot. 

He forced his hips to keep moving, albeit much more messy now, as he moaned against your skin, his own orgasm wracking through his body, while still attempting to chase your own. 

It didn't take much more than that, to be honest, and your entire body went boneless and shattered beneath him as you came too.

Jelly seemed like an apt description for what you felt as you relaxed in the bed and your nerves began to calm down, Spencer breathing heavily above you. Up until he was sliding out of you, and standing up on legs you could see shaking, perhaps just as much as your own. 

He's disposing of his condom as you lay there, attempting to regain your breath, eyes fixated on the ceiling above you. He's shuffling around more than you'd expect for a simple trash trip, but then you feel hands on your ankles, and your head snaps down to find him kneeling at the foot of the bed, gently tugging your underwear back up your legs. 

"I know it's not ideal," he says, when your face scrunches up as the piece of fabric lands back on your hips. "But I also know your skirt is too short to not wear these."

"I'll get over it," you reply, letting him redress you with delicate fingers that leave your entire body hot, with goosebumps rising on the skin.

"Yeah," he agrees, though half-heartedly, expert fingers clasping your bra back onto your body. 

Once your skirt is back on, he helps you up into a seated position, helping to reapply the feathered head piece you had on. 

It's oddly intimate, way he's kneeling in front of you, breath warm against your face as he clips the feathers into your hair. Your breathing hitches as his hands drop back to your thighs upon finishing, and you swallow the lump in your throat. 

"Everybody's gonna know what we did," you say, quietly, for it was true. You two had been gone for too long of a time for people to not draw correct conclusions. 

"They already know we do." Hook up.

"What? How?"

"You need to stop telling Garcia things."

Your face falls, and he smiles, sympathetically, thumbs drawing gentle circles on the skin of your thighs. 

"At least you don't work with them."

"I guess there's that," you confirm with a small nod.

He's silent for a few more moments, simply staring at you and studying your face, before he sighs, and goes to pick up your corset. 

"You need to go to the bathroom after this," he instructs you, though gently, motioning for you to stand up and turn around so he could do up the dreaded lacing. 

"I know. Don't worry."

"Good," he replies, your skin tingling with every extra bit of pressure he put on your back as he laced up your corset. "You feel okay?"

"Yes," you nod your head. "Do you?"

"I do," he confirms for you, tying off the lacing and tapping your hip so you could turn back around. 

You do, and your eyes flicker up to his face. "Do you also promise not to make me wait two weeks again?"

"I'll talk to the board."

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

[dontopenfairies]

“So, you want a diaper again tonight?” she asks, rising from her chair and gathering their plates off the table. She’d managed to convince him to wear for the last three nights, lying with her legs wrapped around him on the couch while they watched cartoons on the TV.

“It’s not like I *want* to wear it,” he says. She can’t see him from her position at the sink but she can imagine his expression, that little frown and pouty lip he gets when he’s indignant. “I’m just doing it because you wanted me to.”

“And because it’s snuggly and warm and nice,” she says, rubbing their plates down with the soapy sponge. She leaves the forks at the bottom of the sink. He can deal with those tomorrow.

“I don’t really think that. I just said that…like…in the moment…”

“Uh-huhhh…and after we fucked later that night and you came it didn’t seem that way anymore?” She turns on the tap and rinses the dishes.

“Well, yeah, that’s what I told you that morning…”

“Uh-huh. So it was a coincidence you were so incredibly horny when I took your diaper off?”

“I mean…I mean, um, you just looked really pretty that night!”

“That sounds like a silly excuse. I’m pretty every day.” She slides the plates into the dish rack and comes back over to the table. “And you wanted one again the next night, soo…”

“I never said I wanted one!! You just put me in it! You didn’t even ask!”

“I didn’t need to ask. You didn’t protest at all. In fact, you helped me get your pants down. Do you remember that? Do you remember sliding your fingers into the waistband of your jeans and helping me pull them down?” She reaches around behind him and slips her fingers under his shirt, running them across his skin just under his belt. Her hands are cold. He shivers. “Hmm, that’s getting you excited, huh?”

He raises his hands, ready to grab hers and push them away, but then he hesitates.

“I’m going to go change, okay, baby?” She leans in close to his ear. “I’ll bring a diaper for you to the couch again. If you want it, be sitting nicely on the couch when I get back. If you don’t, you can stay in here or go play games in our room. It’s up to you.” She plants a kiss on his ear and gives his sides a final rub before removing her hands from under his shirt.

Now he sits at the table, anxious thoughts overlapping in his mind. If he goes and sits on the couch, is she going to put a diaper on him automatically again? Or is she going to make him tell her he wants it? He doesn’t want it, of course, he’s just playing along with her…It only felt good because he was really tired. It wasn’t the kind of thought he’d have wide awake. Of course not.

He listens for a moment and he can hear her opening the drawer to the dresser. He’s starting to have to pee a little bit. Does he have time to make it to the bathroom before she’s done?

He hears the dresser drawer close and he knows he has very limited time. He stands up and slowly pushing his chair in. He hesitates again, about to sit firmly back down and stay there and finish his tea and ignore her until bedtime…but then something mechanical in his legs takes over and he’s walking to the couch, eyes ahead, looking at nothing.

He sits down and folds his knees up to his chest.

“There you are,” she says from behind him. She’s wearing red and white checkered pajamas and holding the diaper and a pair of his pajama pants behind her back. As she sits down, her shirt rides up a little and he sees a white waistband sticking out. So she’s wearing, too.

“How come…um…you have one on again?”

She sighs. “You’re trying to be nice, now, huh?”

“Um…I don’t know what you mean.” He chews on his fingernail. He definitely knows what she means.

“I know I was acting like it wasn’t a big deal,” she says, looking at the ground, “but when you were calling me disgusting it kind of hurt my feelings. I didn’t want to wear in front of you for a couple days. I’m sorry, I know that’s stupid.”

“No, no, I—I’m sorry! I’m really sorry. I won’t call you that again.” He pushes himself up on his hands and gets closer to her.

“Thank you. It was honestly really hypocritical…considering what you’re about to let me do to you!” She moves suddenly, turning and pushing him down onto the couch with a thump. He lets out an involuntary giggle at the sudden movement.

“Oh, you like this, huh?” she says, smoothing the front of his pants with the heel of her hand. He tries to keep his mouth shut but a weird whimper-squeak comes out anyway and he can feel his body trembling as she unzips his fly and slowly eases his pants down.

“Aww, lifting up your hips all by yourself, without me even prompting you.” She slides the diaper under him and gently pushes his pelvis down, strong hand on his hip. The material of the diaper is so soft. He tries not to shift his hips to feel it rubbing against his bottom. Stay still. Stay still.

She pulls the diaper through his legs and tapes him up. He has one hand up by his mouth, rubbing his fingers against his lips and teeth. She silently pulls his pants to his ankles and over his feet, and then rolls up the legs of his pajama pants and eases them on. “Help me out again, baby, and lift up your diapered ass. I know you’re distracted by how good it feels, but just do that for me.”

Once he’s all changed, she pulls him up off the couch and reaches for the remote. He falls onto her, leaning against her side with his head on her shoulder. “Do you want to finish the episode from last night? I paused it when you fell asleep.”

“Okay,” he says in a whisper.

Halfway through the remainder of the episode, she rubs her feet together. “I’ve gotta pee, bad,” she says, turning to smirk at him. “I’m just going to go, is that okay with you?”

“Um, what? I—I guess—”

She puts a finger on his lips. “I don’t know why I asked you. You don’t have a choice.” She slouches back against the couch and he can hear the familiar hiss of pee coming from her diaper. Then the sound stops.

“Do you want to feel it coming out?” she asks. He doesn’t answer. She reaches for his hand and guides it down under the elastic waistband of her pants. She briefly presses on his middle finger, dragging it over the crotch of her diaper, the way she helps him finger her, before letting it rest, cupping her right between her legs. The hissing starts up again, slowly at first and then faster. “Can you feel it getting warm? Is your diaper getting tighter?”

He’s mad because it is. And all of this is reminding him of the building pressure in his own bladder.

“Are you going to go, too, tonight, do you think?”

“I—I don’t know if I’m ready for that,” he mutters.

“Not ready yet, huh? So that means it is gonna happen someday.” She pulls his hand back out of her pants and he whines, wanting to touch her just a little longer, even if the diaper is in the way.

She pushes him back against the couch again, and kisses him slowly. Then she rests her head next to his, in the crook of his shoulder. Her weight is pressing on his belly, and he can really feel it on his bladder…

“Okay,” he says quietly, voice shaking. “You win. I’ll admit it. I want to…um…you know. I want to use it.”

She kisses his neck.

“Will you…um…will you show me how?”

“There isn’t just one way, silly,” she says, rising and pulling him up. “Here, sit like this, like me. Okay, now focus. Imagine you’re sitting over the toilet. You reallyyy have to pee. Close your eyes and picture it.”

He obliges, trying to imagine the cold, hard seat under him. To his surprise, he feels a tiny bead of warm liquid forming at the end of his penis. Oh my god, it’s going to be difficult to pull it back in. A small spurt escapes him.

“Are you going yet?” she asks.

He nods. It’s becoming a stream now, and he can feel the diaper getting warm and heavy, pee spreading out across the padding. It’s a new feeling, and it feels really wrong. The pee should be going somewhere, it shouldn’t stop right away like this. He’s actually *wetting a diaper* at his big age. Oh my god, that’s so dirty…he hears the little whimper-squeak again from somewhere far away.

“Hold it,” she says. “I really want you to go on my lap. And you’re going so much, I don’t want to miss it.” She grabs him by the hips and pulls him onto her, legs out towards the arm of the couch, perpendicular to hers. “Good. Keep going.”

The end credits of the cartoon are playing and he is peeing in his girlfriend’s lap. He already has a nagging feeling that he is going to really regret this tomorrow, but right now he just feels sleepy and warm and comfortable. She crosses her arms over him and pulls him closer. He feels his eyes closing.

“Let’s see how far we can go with this…” she says softly. Or was that the very beginning of his dream?

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

The fight was ugly. The first fight that you and Eddie had turned from a quiet disagreement to a full blown yelling match.

Truthfully you couldn't remember what the fight was actually about. Something silly, something miniscule that turned into a big thing.

A big argument with some horrible things said; you still couldn't get Eddie's words out of your head.

"Why would this mean anything? It's just sex isn't it?" Eddie snapped and your heart broke into a million tiny pieces. Just sex. Right. Of course that's what you two were.

Truthfully you were a mess and you should have just gone straight back home after storming out of the trailer.

Eddie has tried to go after you but you were faster and ran before he could catch up with you.

Instead you bumped into a few of your friends and hitched a ride to some party that one of Jason Carver's friends were throwing. Robin noticed your tear streaked cheeks and gave your hand a reassuring squeeze.

She was the only one of your friends who knew about Eddie; maybe Steve as well as him and Robin were as thick as thieves. Like platonic soulmates or something.

You and Eddie got together two months ago, passing off the hook ups as just mind-blowing sex and that worked at first. That's until you begun to get to know Eddie better and the two of you spent more time together.

Eddie was easy to fall in love with. His reputation portrayed him as mean and scary, satan obsessed and someone people should stay away from.

He was none of those things, he was kind and fiercely loyal to his friends and uncle, he was passionate and badass and really it was no surprise that you fell in love with him.

At least now you know that he doesn't feel the same way, at least you found out now before it was too late and you were even more in love with him than you are now.

Maybe you could just hang with your friends and forget the words that had broken your heart tonight.

At least you hoped that was possible.

❤️

Fuck, you really should have went home. Your head was pounding, the two beers you had made you even more anxious and upset. To make matters worse Tyler Harvey wouldn't leave you alone, he had zeroed in on you from the second you had walked through the door.

As much as you tried to avoid him, he followed you around and it was beginning to give you the creeps.

He manages to corner you when you're trying to get up to the bathroom with Robin. He stinks of beer, smoke and sweat and it turns your stomach a little bit.

Leather, smoke and the hints of woods and musk were your favourite scents in the world right now and that had to do with the man you were trying not to think about.

You cringe away from Tyler but he's so drunk that he doesn't seem to notice, he moves closer to you and you instinctively step back.

"Can you move please? Robin and I need to go upstairs" you ask him but he doesn't appear to be listening.

"Aww why don't you come upstairs with me? I'll take care of you" Tyler smirks but you don't like the look in his eyes and immediately step away from him. Yeah...no thanks. Robin is at your side at once and glares at Tyler.

"Take the hint asshole. She's not interested" Robin gently guides you away but Tyler grabs your arm at the same time and you stumble, landing hard on the floor. It knocks the wind out of you and your body throbs from the contact with the floor.

Tyler scrapers from the scene without even checking to see if you're alright. Robin is cursing out Tyler and helps you up. You're sore, annoyed and just want to go home.

Steve appears out of nowhere and Robin mentions that she called Steve when you mentioned you were getting a migraine. Relief fills you, at least you could go to Steve's for a little while and try and salvage some of the night with him and Robin.

There's a tiny voice inside of you that is aching for Eddie and it's growing stronger. You dismiss the idea, you're sure that Eddie was glad to be rid of you. That thought caused a new throbbing ache in your chest and you hurried outside with Steve and Robin determined not to think about Eddie and his big brown eyes.

❤️

As soon as you're at Steve's he puts in a movie and you settle up on the couch with Robin while Steve makes snacks. Being here is soothing and you rest your head on Robin's

Steve's landline ringing breaks you out of your sleep, Steve hurries to answer it and your heart skips a beat when you realise it's Eddie.

"Yeah, yeah dude she's with me and Robin. Some shit went down at a party we were at... Oh that asshole friend of Jason was being a prick. Yeah Tyler is it? Woah calm down man, she's fine. She's just tired"

You get up which is a little tricky as the sudden movement makes your migraine feel ten times worse but you really want to speak to Eddie.

Steve passes the phone over to you and you smile a tiny bit as Eddie is still ranting about what he wants to do to Tyler.

"Eddie, I'm okay" you murmur and he stops his rant and breathes a sigh of relief.

"Sweetheart. Fuck, I've been so worried princess. I went to your house, then Family Video. I even dropped around Wheeler's house which was a shock for Mama Wheeler to see if you were there. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I was a butthead"

The ache in your chest subsides a little bit and you relax. "I'm sorry too. I'm really sorry" tears spill down your cheeks and it's cathartic to finally let them out.

"I'm going to come and pick you up Kay? I'm not going to relax until I see that you're okay. I'll see you in about ten minutes okay?"

The tension you're feeling begins to disappear and you wait for Eddie to arrive, thanking Robin and Steve for being so amazing tonight.

True to his word Eddie arrives as quickly as he says he would and gives Steve and Robin a quick nod in greeting, he immediately pulls you close to him.

His lips press against hair and he briefly talks to Steve before guiding you out the door and into his van.

You're so exhausted from the nights escapades that you're asleep instantly.

❤️

When you wake up you're in Eddie's bed, Eddie is laying beside you and reading Lord of the Rings - The Two Towers. When he realises you're awake he presses his lips to your forehead and he tucks the covers around you, cuddles up at your side and holds you close.

"I'm sorry I was such a dickhead. You have no idea how much you mean to me, you mean everything to me and I was so scared to tell you. So I lashed out and said stupid shit. Things I didn't mean"

There's something unspoken hanging in the air, a familiar tension that's been playing the two of you for a little while now.

"I thought that you were sick of me and that's why you said those things" you confess and play with a start thread on his plaid shirt.

Eddie's jaw drops and he's silent for a moment, "Princess how could you even think that? You're...shit, I've never felt this way about anyone and it's terrifying trying to think of the right words, wondering if you feel the same way" he pauses as he lets the words sink in.

He's blushing, restless and anxious as his eyes meet yours; You sit up and cup Eddie's cheek with your hand.

"How do you feel about me Eddie?" It feels pretty certain now but you'd like to make sure. You'd like to hear him say it.

"I'm in love with you princess. How can you not see that? I guess I was just scared to tell you because I'm not exactly the perfect guy am I?" He scoffs as he says this and you scowl at the way his eyes turn sad.

"I don't care about that Eddie. Who wants perfect? I don't. I think you're amazing and handsome, you're sweet and kind, a gentleman. You make my heart skip a beat when you look at me and I feel at ease and content when I'm with you" his fingers entwined with yours and he sighs.

"You know so many people think I'm a freak, normally I don't give a fuck but I do care what others think about you" you soften and press gentle kisses over his cheek, the action causes him to smile shyly and his tense body relaxes.

"Eddie I don't give a shit what anyone says or thinks. Are you going to give us up just because of some idiots who don't matter? The only people that matter in this relationship are you and me. I love you Eddie, I'm so in love with you"

He looks up at you stunned and then he kisses you fiercely, "No I'm not giving us up. I love you sweetheart so much. You're my girl and I'm not letting you go because of some dumb assholes opinion"

The two of you spend the rest of the night making up and when you're tucked up in Eddie's arms as he falls asleep, you're left with the gentle feeling of this being where you're meant to be.

This trailer, Eddie's room, his arms around you as his soft snores fill the air. The sound of the wind blowing against the windows as you're lulled to sleep.

This felt like home.

💕

I get to love you

It's the best thing that I'll ever do

I get to love you

It's a promise I'm making to you

Whatever may come, your heart I will choose

Forever I'm yours, forever I do

I get to love you, I get to love you.

I Get To Love You- Ruelle

[marscardigan]

stay

joel miller x reader

Not a lot, just forever universe

Summary: You can't keep secrets from Joel. Not even the ones you try to hide the best.

Warnings: Pregnancy, talks of death.

Being Joel Miller's controversial young girlfriend was not on your bucket list for that year. 

You were a nurse at the firelights camp when he came with Tess to take a girl to the other side of the states. You didn't plan to join them, let alone stay after he successfully failed his mission. You were with him when he lost Bill, Frank and Tess, and you understood he couldn't' bear losing Ellie. So you helped him. You helped his selfish decision because you knew he was a selfless person. And he deserved some happiness, even if this happiness meant risking losing the only change in order to get a cure to this sick world. 

When you got back to Jackson, you knew Joel looked at you differently. At least that's what Ellie told you. Little did she know, during the trip there may have been some stolen glances between the two of you. It was easy falling in love with him. So when he asked you on your first real date together, how could you decline?

A month later, the three of you were already living together. You were a really anxious person, and since forever, everyone's opinion has mattered to you. People loved to talk about the two of you behind your back, and even though it did kind of hurt you, the look of love that Joel gave you every time you two locked gazes—all those awful comments were worth it. Hell, everything was worth it. You started to not give a fuck about what people commented on the streets. You only cared about the little family you founded.

It wasn't until you just made yourself comfortable about everything that had changed since you came to Jackson, that something else had to go misguided. Not only was your period late, but pretty sure you were in fact growing a baby in your belly. You could tell, you have helped so many women to get through the pregnancy during those hard times, and even knowing everything that had to be done, you were terrified. Although you and Joel were at a very good point in your relationship, and Ellie was starting to get comfortable around Jackson, you didn't think to be capable of doing this next step. You always wanted to be a mother, to have a baby with Joel's eyes and smile. But, still, all of you were just starting to get comfortable after everything you went through. You knew all too well about Sarah and about his fear with Ellie. You wouldn't give him more burden; you couldn't do that. 

So you just kept it hidden. Stealing his clothes, making up excuses about your period, visiting secretly the town doctor to check on the baby. It all had worked so well if he hadn't found out the way he did. 

"Tell me you're lying." He threw the paper at the table.

"I swear I was going to tell you, Joel, I swear." 

For as long as you've known him, you could always read his facade easily. But this time, you couldn't. You could see anger and disappointment, but mostly fear. 

"Bullshit." He said your name with a trembling voice. "How far are you?"

"Around fourteen weeks, maybe more" You mumbled. "Listen to me, I-"

"No, you listen to me right now" He got closer to you, leaving the paper with the medical revision of the week. He did sound angry, but concern blinded his eyes. "You cannot expect this to happen if you don't have the enough trust to tell me in the first place that you are expecting" 

"You don't understand. I did try to tell you, but I have been busy enough freaking the fuck out. You know how scared I am? You know how many women I have seen die because these conditions are miserable? How many motherless children have I greeted to this world because they didn't make it? How many babies...?" You weren't able to finish that sentence, but by how Joel's gaze softened, you knew he understood. He grabbed your hand, leaving the paper behind. "I don't know if I will be even able to make it." It was all you could whisper. 

Even if he was mad at you, it felt refreshing to say all those thoughts out loud. 

"No, no, don't say that, bug" He sat you down in the chair, kneeling in front of you. "You... you will make it out. We will make it out." He put his bare hands in your thighs. "You are a very strong woman. You are capable of this."

"I don't know..."

"Well, I do know." He whispered. "I just wish you told me sooner, those are some news"

You giggled. "I don't know why I was so scared to tell you, I've always believed you would stay, though."

"Of course, I will stay," He answered, slightly offended. "We will make it out, mark my words,"

"I didn't expect less from you."

Wait till Ellie finds out; she will be BAWLING

[gothamhappiness]

The nightmare (Jason Todd x GN!reader)

Warnings: no proof reading, angst, kinda comfort but not really, mentions of blood, violence, Joker, dark!Jason at the end

You woke up sweating and your heart beating so fast that you thought it was going to explode inside your chest. You sat up before frantically looking for your boyfriend Jason in the bed. You needed several instants to collect yourself and remember that he was patroling away tonight.

You couldn't stay in bed, not after the nightmare you just had. You needed to busy yourself until Jason came back. You went into the kitchen and started to prepare some tea. Hopefully, it could calm down your nerves. You wanted to call Jay, but you were worried you would distract him during a mission.

The tea didn't help. Your eyes were focused on the time passing by. You were getting very distraught now. What if something had happened to Jason?

Just like in your nightmare.

At the instant you heard the window getting opened, you rushed to it. Red Hood barely had the time to get inside; you were already hugging him before checking him for any injuries. If your warm welcome made Jay smile at first, it was until he noticed how anxious you were. He removed his helmet, let it fall on the ground before gently cupping your face into both of his hands.

"Hey babe. Is everything alright?" he whispered to you

"I'm just... so happy to see you're all good" you replied, starting to cry.

Jason panicked. He wasn't standing to see you in such a bad state of mind. He quickly sat you down on the couch, then knelt down in front of you, trying to comfort you with gentle words and touch. You managed to calm down after a little while.

"I'm so sorry, this is so silly. I just had this nightmare and I worried about you and..." you babbled

"What nightmare, love?" Jay asked

You didn't reply. You weren't too sure you wanted to talk about it to Jason. He took your hands in his and stroked them.

"Alright, I'm gonna grab a shower and..."

"Let me take care of you" you asked

Jason simply nodded, he couldn't deny you anything.

You helped him undress and then washed him with great care and tenderness. It was allowing you to stop thinking about the nightmare. Jay enjoyed your quiet love for him. You were the only person who ever cared for him like that. He was so grateful you were part of his life. He didn't know how he could live without you.

He also looked after you in a comfortable silence even though your boyfriend hated to see you so tense. For the moment, he allowed you to keep your thoughts to yourself.

But at the instant you both settled in bed, he gently guided you on his lap. You instinctively snuggled against him.

"So, what's going on?" he whispered

"I'm not positive that I want to tell you about it..." You admitted

"Why not?" He stroked your cheek

"It was about... him." You said

"Him?" Jason asked even if he guessed your answer

"The Joker." You replied

"Alright, what happened with him?" He asked, his jaw clenched

"He... kidnapped the two of us. You were tied up on a chair, and his goons took me on top of a pool full of acid. Joker told me I had the choice. Or I could watch him club you to death, or I could jump in the acid." You explained.

Jason's face was unreadable, but deep down, he was losing his mind.

"And what did you say, love?"

"I jumped of course, and I woke up" you murmured.

Jason instantly grabbed your face and brought you even closer to him.

"My love, I need you to make a promise to me then. Even if I'll do anything to keep you safe, if one day something like that happens, never choose me over yourself. Promise me you'll do everything to stay alive." he was deadly serious

"But Jay..."

"No but. I don't matter."

"How can you say something like that! This is not true! I love you" You cried out

"Let's me rephrase that. If I die, nothing bad will truly happen out of it. You'll get upset, but it'll pass. On the other hand, I can assure you that no one in Gotham would want to deal with the aftermath of your death."

"What... what do you mean?" You frowned

"That if anything happened to you, I'll burn this whole city to the ground and there would be no survivor. Not even Batman." Jason darkly promised

"Jay..." You were speechless

"You are my world, my everything, and if I lose you, everyone goes down with me. So now promise me you'll always pick yourself over me and anyone else, baby." He continued

"I... I promise you." You replied as you realised it was the only answer you could give him.

[yurinaa-world]

Can I request Jing Yuan, Dan Heng and Sundy with an anxious!cozy!s/o who secretly terrifyingly observant and calculating? ((👁-👁) level ie. looking deep into your soul level observant.)

At times it slips (ex. Admitting to being obsessed with complex puzzles that most people can't even fathom or subtly tipping them about someone's intention before the boys pick up on it) reader panics a bit.

Reader is conflicted because on onehand, they know whats going on and they wont get tricked easily BUT they hate how they know too much at times. Thus fuels their anxiety.

They either have to isolate themselves for a while or wear cozy oversized garmets as comfort (aka all the time)

𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈: Jing Yuan, Dan Heng, & Sunday x Gender-neutral reader

𝒮𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: with anxious and cozy reader

𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: Fluff and spelling mistakes,

𝒥𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒴𝓊𝒶𝓃

Over time he’s picked up more details on your behaviour, you're so observant to the point you don’t realize that your face says what you're thinking. Just in the middle of a conversation with you, he can see how you look around taking in everything around as if you were a cute detective. 

He doesn’t mind that you want to be alone or that you just want to sit in silence, seeing You'll get overloaded and get a headache. He does worry you end up staying up late and being lost in thoughts, forgetting that it’s already 3:00 am. (He might just grab you, cover your eyes and force you to bed to get a good night's sleep).

He finds your cute oversized clothes then formal (because you like to look so comfortable in them), your hair is all messy, your tired voice, sometimes the shirt is off one of your shoulders because it is way too oversized for you but it’s still comfortable.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“What might my dear be thinking about instead of sleeping?”  

You don’t even realize that he’s there until he wraps his arm around you and pulls you against his side. “I can’t sleep, I'm thinking about something.”  You turn towards him and find him already looking at you with a look that’s both gentle and tender. 

You feel like something is wrong, squinting your eyes at him—you just have that weird gut feeling—looking around his body to find ‘something’ you are not sure what it is until you look at his shoulder—it looks way too stiff than usual, your hand grabbing his shoulder a bit roughly only to hear him let out a small groan.

“Did you get hurt?” You ask softly, letting go of the shoulder in an instant,  looking at him worriedly, “Can't let anything escape your gaze?” He smiles slightly though, leaning forward and kissing the side of your head lightly before you cover his mouth with your hand, frowning on your face.

“Are you sure you’re fine?”  You ask again, this time more serious than earlier. He shakes his head and kisses your hand once before removing it from his mouth. “I promise that I’m alright.” He says in a soft voice,  caressing your cheek.  This makes you look away shyly,  the warmth spreading across your cheeks.

“it’s time for you to go to bed.” “I don’t need you telling me that-“ he grabs you and pulls you close into him, shoving your face in his chest so you couldn’t see anything “Sleep.”

𝒟𝒶𝓃 𝐻𝑒𝓃𝑔

He’s amazed by how you still remember the small details in a conversation that even he can’t remember. He thought at first you were like him, observant, and quiet but you surpassed and beyond everything you expected from him.

You spend most of your time in his room and not your own, not that he doesn’t mind at all but just looking over from his books to see you looking around his room trying to see small details while messing with a complicated puzzle in your hands.

He takes you away to calm you down when you’re in a conversation to hear what you want to say because of the face you had on, eyes wide and slightly nervous while looking at your nails and back at the person. (he got you out of that conversation so quickly)

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Looking down on your puzzle with your brain bustling with ideas and taking notes of small details around his room that usually aren't noticed (and you might also be watching him read one of his books and might have been staring for too long that you locked eyes by accident and looked away). Quickly shifting the pieces of the puzzle when you get caught yet neither of you say anything, that doesn't stop you from gazing at him from the top of your eye.

"Dan Heng why are you reading that book when you already finished it?"  you asked softly/ "It's a well-written book with good character development and story building." "Is it that good that I want to read for the 3rd time?"  he responded while looking up from his book to look at you. "you just said it was only the 3rd time so I'd assume it is still good enough to read again." 

"But Dan Heng don't you ever want to read new things?." you understand everything and why people do it but you're just curious about what a person thinks of what they're doing and the reasons for their actions. He doesn't mind asking him questions and he'll answer each one with the best of his abilities. 

“Sometimes people like to reread things because they don’t want something to end.”

“Oh is that what you're doing?—oddly enough you always are in that spot specifically while reading that same book.” You say before murmuring another part. “You always remember everything don’t you.”

𝒮𝓊𝓃𝒹𝒶𝓎

You’re just like him. He doesn’t expect anything less from his soulmate, it’s as if you were hand-made for each other. Your mind is so calculating and observant, the dream you are. He’ll adore you, he’ll tease you, smile with you, he’ll experience everything with you.

He raves about the small cute glances you do when you think he doesn’t notice or when you take your eyes off from whatever you might be doing just to look at him working. He can feel your loving gaze before you go back to whatever you might be doing. (He might just confront you and see your embarrassed expression)

Don’t worry about anything, not even the person you’re warning him about, he’s already dealt with long before you got the chance to tell him.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Sunday aren’t you worried?” 

You don’t understand how he’s never worried about anything, just so calm even when you're alone with each other. “what would I be worried about my dear?” you feel him taking into your heart, arms around your shoulder, your back pressed against his chest.

“Didn’t you see how suspicious they were acting?” you say with hesitation in your tone, your fingers tightening onto the fabric of his shirt. you feel him nod as a response from behind you. 

“I know something’s up, I feel it in my gut just wanted to warn you”. you mumble the last sentence,  turning to face him, he looks down, and his hand goes to the side of your cheek already making you feel comfortable.

“No need to worry yourself over me,”  he leans down and kisses you on the cheek,  smiling sweetly at you, a warm feeling spreads through your chest. 

“I've already dealt with everything.”

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