#we’ll see how i feel when she leaves but

[moonstruckme]

hi!! can u write a fic with poly maurauders x shy reader where she looses like her comfort stuffed animal and freaks out? thanks!

Thanks for requesting @whotfisgiana <3

poly!marauders x shy!reader ♡ 1.4k words

You don’t think your bedroom has ever been so messy. Pillows on the floor, sheets and comforter all askew, most everything you own moved this way or that so you could see around or behind or underneath it. You’re halfway to a panic when a knock sounds on your door. 

You ignore it. It’s likely a postman leaving a package or someone who will leave a flyer taped to the door, and you have more pressing concerns to deal with. But the knock comes again, louder this time. 

You push out a sigh as you stand from where you’d been peering under your bed, trying to shake some of your unease out of your fingertips as you go to answer it. On the other side you find your roguishly handsome boyfriend, looking expectant. 

“Hey, beautiful,” says Sirius, grinning as he leans in. He takes your waist in hand, and you kiss him back somewhat slowly, caught offguard by his easy affection at the best of times but even more so when you weren’t anticipating it. 

“Hey,” you echo as he pulls back. 

“You look surprised to see me,” he observes. “Did you not remember our date?” 

You blink. Oh. Oh. God, you’re the worst. You’re supposed to be going to see a film with your boyfriends at noon—but in your frenzy, you’d completely forgotten. Is it really that late already?

“It’s alright.” Sirius seems to sense your nerves, giving you a kind squeeze. “We’ve got time, lovely, James is picking up Remus from across town and I told them we’d take the bus, is that alright? Do you need to do anything before we go?” 

Your first thought is that you can’t go—but that’s not very fair, is it? You had plans, you can’t just abandon your boyfriends because something else has come up. Something completely non-urgent, too. It will still be just as lost whether you’re at the cinema or not. You can keep looking when you get home. 

“Yeah,” you say, stepping back from the door. Sirius comes in, and you shut it behind him. “Sorry, I’m still in my pajamas. I can change fast.” 

“Don’t hurry,” he says easily. “You know how James drives. We’ll beat them there no matter what.” 

“Thanks.” You hurry into your room, Sirius trailing casually behind. “Sorry, just a second.” 

He tsks, teasing. “Stop that.” 

“Sorry,” you say instinctively, then feel your face heat when he shoots you a mock stern look. You grab some clothes and go into your bathroom, shutting the door to change. 

“Whoa,” says Sirius as he enters your room. “What happened in here?” 

You forcibly stifle another apology, laughing at yourself. “I know, it’s so bad.”

“Are you redecorating or something?” 

“No, just looking for something.” 

You step out of the bathroom in jeans and a jumper, and Sirius grins at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. You’re ready for him this time. When he steps forward, you let him put his hands on your face and kiss him back sweetly. 

“What’s the matter?” he asks. 

“Hm?” 

“You seem upset. What is it?” 

“I’m not upset.” You want for it to be true. You wish this wasn’t something that rattled you so badly. 

“Liar.” Sirius says it in the same way he calls James pest, with a fond bent to his voice. He puts a couple of inches between you, keeping your face in his hands as he traps you beneath his stare. “What is it?” 

Your shoulders climb up towards your ears. “I’m okay,” you say meekly. Sirius only looks at you, as if to say go on. “I just can’t find my rabbit.” 

His brow furrows. “Your rabbit.” 

“My stuffed rabbit,” you clarify.

“Oh.” Sirius glances to your bed, the covers half torn off from where you’ve disheveled them in your search and now trailing onto the floor. He lets his grip slip down your arms. “How did I not know about this? Seems rather important to you.” 

“I don’t need to sleep with him every night or anything,” you say, embarrassed. “I’ve just always had him, so he’s sort of…sentimental. Anyway, it’s fine. I’ll find it later.” 

“I’m not going to drag you to the cinema when you’re upset about your rabbit,” Sirius says, like the mere idea is offensive. 

“You’re not dragging me,” you argue feebly, “and I’m not upset.” 

“I’m not escorting you while you’re worried, then.” He rolls his eyes, taking out his phone. 

“Sirius,” you plead, but he only shushes you. 

“Hi,” he says a moment later. “Hey, has James gotten to you yet?” 

Remus’ voice, too quiet to make out, crackles through the line. 

Sirius hums. “Well, I’m impressed by him. Actually, though, we may have a change of plans.” 

You cover your face with your hands, mortified. Sirius puts an arm around you, rubbing your shoulder like there, there. 

“It seems our girl has misplaced her stuffed rabbit.” 

You’re close enough now to hear James say, genuine alarm in his tone, “Moo Moo?” 

There’s a pause, and you peek through your fingers to find Sirius looking at you. You nod in confirmation. 

“It’s called Moo Moo?” he asks. 

You hum quietly. 

“Why would you name your rabbit after a sound a cow makes?” 

“I don’t know,” you say sheepishly. “I was a baby.” 

Sirius rolls his eyes, kissing you on your head. “You’re fucking precious, do you know that?” 

It’s decided quickly after that. James and Remus change course, heading for your apartment while you and Sirius recommence the search. None of them will hear your protests, least of all Sirius, who threatens to decommission you from the rescue party if you continue to spend your energy arguing rather than looking. 

With two of you, you clear the bedroom quickly, moving into the formerly unconsidered parts of your home. Sirius asks you questions like a police interrogator: Where did you last see him? How big is he? How many nights has it been since you’re sure you slept with him? Did he go on holiday with you last weekend?

Your laundry bin is upturned, couch cushions removed, mementos you’ve not seen for years discovered and then quickly lost again in the rubble. 

When your boyfriends arrive, Remus takes one look at you and shepherds you away while James joins the search. He makes you tea and gives you enough of his soft, compassionate looks to melt you down to the bone. 

“I didn’t mean to make us all miss the film,” you tell him, steam warming your chin as you sit on the kitchen counter. “I was going to go, but Sirius…” 

You realize you sound like you’re tattling and stop. Remus only smiles at you indulgently, his brown eyes flickering with humor. 

“We didn’t think it was you who made that call,” he says. “But, sweetheart, no one is upset that we’re here. We wouldn’t want you to have to sit through a film while you’re upset.” 

“I’m not upset.” Your voice has the quiet weariness of a broken record. 

Remus studies you. You sip your tea to avoid it, trying not to squirm under his gaze. “You seem like you might be upset,” he says, an almost missable hint of teasing in his tone. 

“It’s stupid,” you admit. “I know he has to be here somewhere, there’s no point in worrying.” 

“I’m sure he is.” Remus rubs your leg, soothing. “You’re right, lovely, he’s probably just somewhere we haven’t—” 

“Found him!” James cries. 

You gasp, and Remus grins at your reaction. 

“Where?” Sirius bounds in from the sitting room. 

James comes from the opposite direction, holding your rabbit above his head like a trophy. He passes it to you with a flourish as you hop down from the counter. “Angel, your Moo Moo.” 

“So this is Moo Moo,” Sirius says, grinning. 

You feel suddenly defensive, bringing the grayed, ratty plushie close to your chest. “Yes.” 

“I love him.” 

“I think he’s handsome,” says Remus, also looking at him interestedly. 

“Caused a lot of trouble today, though,” Sirius tuts, “hasn’t he?” 

“Where’d you find him?” you ask James, eager to be out of the spotlight.

“He was wedged between your mattress and the wall.” Your boyfriend pouts. “Poor thing.” 

You frown. “I looked there.” 

“He was sort of in the corner.” James shrugs. “Rather easy to miss, I’m sure Sirius checked there too.” 

“Well, thank you,” you say shyly. Still holding the toy to your chest. “I might not have looked there again on my own.” 

“Seems a good thing we came over, hm?” Remus asks complacently. 

Your face heats. “Yeah.” 

“One more time, sweetness?” Sirius cocks his ear. “Not sure I heard you there.” 

“Yes,” you say again, fighting a smile. “Thank you for coming.” 

He grins at you, wrestling you into his side. “I don’t ever want to hear you arguing one of my ideas again.” 

“That seems a bit premature—” James starts to say. 

“Nope! Never again.”

[moonlightwritingf1]

Craving You | LN4

✩‧₊˚ summary ━━━━━━━ Pregnant and aching with need, Y/N finds herself craving sex with Lando after weeks without it, though their attempts are humorously awkward due to her baby bump and slipping pillows. 

✩‧₊˚ pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

✩‧₊˚ word count ━━━━━━━ 4.5k

✩‧₊˚ warnings ━━━━━━━ +18, sexual content, p in v, creampie?, slow sex, pregnancy sex, nipples play?, multiple positions

Based on this request.

Y/N shifted uncomfortably on the bed, her back propped up against a mountain of pillows. Her hands rested on the swell of her belly, the baby within kicking softly as if sensing her restlessness. She glanced over at Lando, who was lying beside her, his head resting on one hand, the other tracing absent patterns on her thigh. His eyes were half-lidded, that familiar teasing glint shining through.

“You’re quiet tonight,” he murmured, his voice low and rich, like honey dripping over velvet. “Thinking about something… or someone?”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress the smile tugging at her lips. “Oh, someone is definitely on my mind,” she quipped, her tone playful yet laced with a deeper undertone she didn’t bother hiding. She’d been feeling it all evening—that restless, electric energy buzzing under her skin. It had been weeks since they’d been intimate, and though she’d been the one to hesitate at first, now the craving was undeniable.

Lando’s eyebrows shot up, and he shifted closer, his hand sliding up her thigh to rest on her hip. “Care to share your thoughts?” he asked, his voice dropping an octave, the teasing replaced by something far more serious.

She bit her lip, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her oversized t-shirt. “Maybe,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “But I’m not sure I can… say it.”

His gaze softened, and he moved even closer, his chest brushing against her arm. “You can tell me anything, you know that,” he said, his voice gentle but insistent. “Anything at all.”

She took a deep breath, her heart pounding in her chest. “I… I want to… be with you,” she finally admitted, her cheeks flushing as she spoke. “But… it’s been so long, and I’m just… I don’t know how we’d…”

Her words trailed off, but Lando didn’t need her to finish. He understood. His hand moved from her hip to her belly, his touch tender as he leaned in to press a soft kiss to her forehead. “We’ll figure it out,” he said, his voice steady and reassuring. “We’ll take it slow, just like we always do.”

She nodded, her breath catching as he brushed his lips against her temple, then her cheek, before finally capturing her mouth in a kiss that was both sweet and searing. His hand slid under her t-shirt, his fingers skimming over her skin, leaving trails of fire in their wake. She moaned softly into his mouth, her hands tangling in his hair as the kiss deepened, the tension between them crackling like a live wire.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathing heavily, their foreheads pressed together. “You’re so beautiful,” Lando whispered, his voice rough with desire. His fingers traced the curve of her belly, his touch reverent. “I don’t know how you do it, but you just keep getting more and more stunning.”

She laughed softly despite herself, her cheeks flushing even darker. “You’re such a charmer,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “Always know the right thing to say.”

He grinned, his dimples flashing. “Can’t help it if it’s true,” he said. “Now… let’s see if I can remember how to do this.”

His hand began to move with purpose, fingers trailing a slow, deliberate path downward. His touch was electric, every inch of her skin buzzing as he traced the curve of her waist, down to the soft swell of her belly. He paused there for a moment, his palm resting protectively over the life growing inside her.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he whispered, his voice thick with awe and desire. “Every part of you. Every inch.” His hand drifted lower, fingertips grazing the sensitive skin just above the waistband of her sleep shorts. She bit her lip, her breath hitching as his fingers dipped beneath the fabric, teasingly slow, as if he was savoring every second of this.

“Lando…” she breathed, her voice trembling with a mix of anticipation and desperation. Her body tensed, her hips lifting slightly off the mattress, as if urging him to take what she was so clearly offering. His hand stilled for a moment, his eyes locking with hers, searching for any sign of hesitation. But there was none—only need, raw and unfiltered, burning in her gaze.

“You sure?” he asked, his voice soft but laced with an intensity that made her stomach flip. She nodded, her hands gripping the sheets as she whispered, “Yes. I want you. I need you.”

Her words were all the encouragement he needed. His fingers slid lower, brushing against the warmth between her thighs, and she gasped, her back arching as he found her most sensitive spot. His touch was light at first, a gentle exploration that made her toes curl and her breath catch in her throat. But then he pressed deeper, his fingers circling in a way that sent sparks of pleasure shooting through her body.

“God, you’re so wet for me,” he groaned, his voice rough with desire as he leaned in to capture her lips in a searing kiss. His other hand cradled her belly protectively, his touch a grounding contrast to the fire he was igniting between her legs. She moaned into his mouth, her hands tangling in his hair as he deepened the kiss, his fingers never stopping their relentless pace.

“The baby…” she murmured against his lips, her voice wavering despite the ache coursing through her.

“We’re fine,” he assured her, his voice steady and reassuring. “I’ve got you. Both of you.” His lips trailed down her neck, his teeth grazing her skin in a way that made her shudder. “Just let me take care of you.”

And she did. With every touch, every kiss, every whispered word, he reminded her why she’d waited for him, why she’d let herself fall so completely. Because when it came to Lando, it wasn’t just about the physical—it was about the way he made her feel, the way he cherished her, even in moments like this when the world felt too big and their bodies felt too small.

“I need you,” she whispered again, her voice breaking as his fingers curled inside her, sending a wave of pleasure so intense it stole her breath. And he didn’t hesitate. He never did. Because when it came to her, Lando was always ready to give her everything.

“Stop,” she gasped, her voice breaking as his fingers curled inside her again and again, sending a wave of pleasure so intense it stole her breath. But it wasn’t enough—not anymore. She needed more. She needed him. “Lando, please… I need you. Your fingers… they’re not enough.” Her hands gripped his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as she pulled him closer, her hips arching off the mattress in a desperate plea. “I need your cock. Please, I need to feel you inside me.”

Lando’s eyes darkened, desire blazing in them as he looked down at her, his chest heaving. “You’re sure?” he asked, his voice rough, strained with restraint. “I don’t want to hurt you. Or the baby.”

She shook her head, her hands moving to cup his face, her thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. “You won’t,” she whispered, her voice trembling with need. “I need you, Lando. Please… fuck me. I’ve been waiting… dreaming about this. I need to feel you, all of you.”

His jaw tightened, a low groan escaping him as he leaned down to capture her lips in a searing kiss. “God, Y/N… you have no idea what you do to me,” he murmured against her mouth, his hands moving to grip her hips. 

“I’ll give you everything. Always,” Lando whispered, his voice a low, gravelly promise that sent shivers down her spine. He leaned down to press a searing kiss to her lips before pulling back, his eyes locked on hers as he slowly, deliberately reached for the waistband of his boxers. He tugged them down, his gaze never leaving hers, the heat in his eyes enough to make her heart race and her breath catch.

She lay there, watching him, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths as he moved closer, his hands now on her pajama bottoms. “Let’s get these off,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. His fingers brushed against her skin as he slid the fabric down her legs, his touch deliberate and teasing, sending waves of anticipation coursing through her. She lifted her hips to help him, her body trembling with the intensity of the moment.

Once she was bare before him, Lando’s hands moved to her hips, his touch both possessive and tender. “Turn on your side for me, love,” he said softly, his voice gentle but laced with urgency. She nodded, her breath hitching as she shifted onto her side, her back now pressed against his chest. His hand rested on her thigh, his fingers tracing slow, maddening circles as he adjusted behind her, his hips aligning with hers.

His hard length pressed against her entrance, and she gasped, the sensation sending a jolt of electricity through her body. His hand tightened on her thigh as he rocked his hips forward, rubbing himself against her, the friction teasing and torturous all at once. “You feel so fucking good,” he groaned, his voice roughened with need. His breath was hot against her neck, his lips grazing her skin.

But then—“Ow—wait, wait, babe—cramp!” she gasped, her body tensing as she reached for his hand to stop him.

He froze instantly, pulling back slightly. “Shit, sorry! Is it your leg or…?” he asked, concern lacing his voice.

“No, no—it’s the bump,” she explained, grimacing slightly. “It’s just squished.”

They paused for a moment, their heavy breaths filling the room as they both laughed softly, the tension easing for a second. “Okay, okay,” Lando said with a grin, his hands moving to help her shift onto her back.

“Okay, let’s try something different,” she suggested, her breath still uneven as she pushed herself up from the pillows. Her hands slid over Lando’s shoulders, her touch lingering as she shifted her weight, her movements slow and deliberate. She swung one leg over him, her belly pressing gently against his thighs as she positioned herself above him, facing away. Her back was to him now, the curve of her spine and the swell of her bump exposed, the dim light of the room casting soft shadows over her skin.

Lando’s hands immediately found her hips, his fingers gripping her possessively as she lowered herself onto him. “Fuck, Y/N,” he groaned, his voice rough with desire as he felt her warmth hovering just above him. His cock strained against her, hard and aching, and he couldn’t help but rock his hips upward, a silent plea for her to take him in.

She felt him nudge against her, the tip of him brushing against her entrance, and she shuddered, her breath catching in her throat. Slowly, she sank down, inch by inch, her body stretching to accommodate him. The sensation was overwhelming—warm, tight, and electric, a mix of pleasure and a deep, aching fullness that made her toes curl. She gasped, her hands gripping his thighs for support as she felt him fill her completely, the pressure and heat of him sending sparks of pleasure radiating through her body.

For Lando, it was pure bliss. Her wetness enveloped him, her warmth wrapping around his cock in a way that made his head spin. The tightness of her, the way her body seemed to cling to him, was almost too much to bear. He let out a low, guttural groan, his hands tightening on her hips as he fought the urge to thrust up into her. “You feel fucking incredible,” he gritted out, his voice strained. “So tight, so warm… like you were made for me.”

She moaned softly, her hips rocking slightly as she adjusted to the feel of him inside her. But then, the strain in her thighs became impossible to ignore, and the weight of her belly pressed uncomfortably against her lungs. “Oh god,” she wheezed, her hands trembling as she tried to hold herself up. “Lando, I’m either going to pass out or fall over.”

He chuckled, though his voice was thick with lust. “Let’s not have that happen,” he said, his hands moving to help her shift her weight. Gently, he helped her move off from on top of him, guiding her down until she was lying back on the bed. He grabbed every pillow within reach, stacking them beneath her hips as she lay back. The angle was better this way—less strain, more focus on them. His hands lingered on her thighs, his touch possessive but tender, as he positioned himself between her legs.

She could feel the heat of him against her, the tip of his cock brushing her entrance, and a shiver ran through her. “Ready?” he asked, his voice low and gravelly, thick with desire. She nodded, biting her lip as he pushed into her slowly, inch by torturous inch.

He felt divine. The way her body welcomed him, warm and wet, was almost overwhelming. She gasped, her hands gripping the sheets as he filled her completely, the stretch and fullness sending sparks of pleasure radiating through her core. His name spilled from her lips in a breathy moan, and he groaned in response, his hands tightening on her hips.

But then—of course—the pillows began to shift. She felt herself sliding down awkwardly, the angle changing as gravity betrayed them. “Okay, so gravity is not on our side tonight,” she mumbled, her voice tinged with both amusement and frustration.

Before she could adjust, Lando’s cock slipped out of her, leaving her feeling strangely empty. She let out a soft whine, her body craving the heat of him again. He chuckled, his hands moving to steady her hips. “Let’s try that again,” he said, his voice rough with need.

This time, he didn’t hesitate. He guided himself back to her entrance, the tip nudging against her folds. She gasped as he pushed in again, the sensation of him sliding inside her for the second time even more intense. The initial stretch was sharp, almost too much, but then it melted into a deep, aching pleasure that spread through her entire body. Her walls clenched around him instinctively, drawing a low, guttural groan from his throat.

For Lando, it was pure bliss. Her tightness enveloped him, her warmth wrapping around his cock in a way that made his head spin. The wetness of her, the way her body seemed to cling to him, was almost too much to bear. He let out a shaky breath, his hands gripping her thighs as he fought the urge to thrust into her with all the pent-up desire he’d been holding back. “You feel fucking incredible,” he gritted out, his voice strained. “So tight, so warm… like you were made for me.”

She moaned softly, her hips shifting slightly to take him deeper. The sensation of him filling her completely, the pressure and heat of him, was overwhelming. It was as if every nerve in her body was on fire, every touch, every movement, sending waves of pleasure crashing through her.

He leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, “You’re so perfect, Y/N. Every part of you.” His thrusts were slow and deliberate, each one drawing another gasp from her lips. She could feel the rhythm building between them, the tension tightening like a coil ready to snap.

But then—again—the pillows slipped, and she felt herself sliding down. Lando cursed under his breath, his hips stalling as he tried to adjust. She let out a frustrated laugh, her body trembling with the effort to hold itself up. “Okay, so maybe this isn’t going to work,” she said, her voice breathless.

Lando chuckled, though his voice was thick with lust and a hint of exasperation. “Let’s not give up yet,” he said, his hands moving to help her shift her weight. But as she tried to prop herself up again, the pillows beneath her slid completely out of place, and she collapsed back onto the bed with a frustrated groan.

They both froze for a moment, staring at each other, before bursting into laughter. His deep, resonant laugh mingled with her breathless giggles, the sound filling the room and easing the tension that had been building between them.

Lando leaned down, his forehead resting against hers as he caught his breath. “It’s not about the sex anyway,” he whispered, his voice soft and tender, his thumb brushing her cheek. His tone was sincere, but the teasing glint in his eyes betrayed him.

She rolled her eyes, though her lips twitched into a smile. “Speak for yourself,” she grumbled, already leaning in to kiss his jaw, her lips brushing against the stubble there. Her hands moved to his chest, fingers tracing the firm muscles beneath his skin. “I’m the one who’s been craving you all night,” she murmured against his neck, her voice low and needy. “I’m desperate, Lando. I need you. I need your dick.”

He groaned, his hands tightening on her hips as she shifted closer, her belly pressing against his side. “Fuck, Y/N,” he muttered, his voice rough with desire. “You’re killing me here.”

She pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, her eyes filled with want. “Then stop teasing me,” she whispered, her voice trembling with desperation. “Please, Lando. I can’t wait anymore. I need you inside me.”

He hesitated for a moment, his eyes searching hers, before letting out a shaky breath. “Okay, okay,” he said, his voice gentle but laced with urgency. “Let’s try this again. Slowly. Just… let me take care of you.”

She nodded, her breath hitching as he moved back between her legs, his hands guiding her hips into a more comfortable position. Their laughter had eased the tension, but now, as his cock brushed against her entrance, the urgency returned full force. She whimpered, her hips lifting slightly, silently begging him to take her. “Please,” she whispered again, her voice breaking. “I need you so much.”

And this time, he didn’t hesitate. He pushed into her slowly, inch by agonizing inch, until he was buried to the hilt. She gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders as the overwhelming sensation of him filled her completely. For a moment, they both just stayed like that, suspended in the intensity of the moment, before he began to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate, drawing gasps and moans from her lips.

But then—again—the pillows slipped, and they both collapsed onto the bed, tangled in each other and laughing breathlessly. Lando shook his head, his chest heaving as he pressed a kiss to her temple. “We’re a mess,” he murmured, his voice warm with affection.

She grinned, her fingers tracing patterns on his chest. “Yeah, but we’re our mess,” she whispered, already feeling the warmth of his body seeping into hers. 

Y/N let out a frustrated sigh, her hands tugging at the hem of the oversized t-shirt she was still wearing. “This fucking thing,” she muttered, her voice laced with irritation as she tried to adjust it for the umpteenth time. It was bunched up awkwardly around her belly, the fabric clinging in all the wrong places. She glanced over at Lando, who was watching her with a mixture of amusement and desire in his eyes. “What?” she snapped, though there was no real bite to her tone.

“Nothing,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “You’re just… adorable when you’re annoyed.”

She rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth twitched into a smile. “Help me get this off,” she said, tugging at the shirt again. “It’s driving me insane.”

Lando didn’t need to be asked twice. He leaned in, his hands sliding up her sides under the fabric, his touch warm and electric against her skin. Slowly, he pulled the shirt up and over her head, tossing it onto the floor beside the bed. And there she was—finally completely naked, her pregnant body bathed in the soft glow of the lamplight.

Lando’s breath caught in his throat as he took her in, his eyes roaming over her with a hunger that made her shiver. Her breasts were fuller now, her nipples peaked and sensitive, and her belly was a beautiful, rounded curve that he couldn’t resist touching. His hand rested gently on her bump, his fingers tracing the smooth skin there before moving lower, teasingly close to where she needed him most.

“Lando,” she whispered, her voice trembling with need. Her hands reached for him, pulling him closer, her nails digging into his shoulders as she kissed him hungrily. “Please,” she murmured against his lips. “I need you. I need you so bad.”

He groaned, his cock twitching in response to her desperation. “Let’s try this,” he said, his voice rough with desire. He helped her shift to the edge of the bed, her legs spread wide to accommodate him. He stood between her legs, his hands gripping her hips to steady her as he positioned himself at her entrance.

For her, the sensation of his cock brushing against her was almost too much to bear. She was wet—achingly so—and the thought of him filling her again sent a wave of anticipation crashing through her. When he finally pushed inside her, the sensation was electric. The initial stretch was sharp, almost overwhelming, but then it melted into a deep, aching pleasure that spread through her entire body. God, he felt so good. Her walls clenched around him instinctively, drawing a low, guttural groan from his throat.

For Lando, it was pure bliss. Her tightness enveloped him, her warmth wrapping around his cock in a way that made his head spin. The wetness of her, the way her body seemed to cling to him, was almost too much to bear. He let out a shaky breath, his hands gripping her hips as he fought the urge to thrust into her with all the pent-up desire he’d been holding back. “You feel fucking incredible,” he gritted out, his voice strained. 

She moaned softly, her hips shifting slightly to take him deeper. The sensation of him filling her completely, the pressure and heat of him, was overwhelming. It was as if every nerve in her body was on fire, every touch, every movement, sending waves of pleasure crashing through her.

He leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, “You’re so perfect, Y/N. Every part of you.” His thrusts were slow and deliberate, each one drawing another gasp from her lips. She could feel the rhythm building between them, the tension tightening like a coil ready to snap.

She was desperate for him, her body trembling with the need to feel more of him, to be closer to him. Her hands gripped the edge of the bed, her nails digging into the mattress as she arched her back, offering herself to him completely. “Lando,” she whimpered, her voice breaking. “Please… don’t stop. I need you so much.”

He groaned, his thrusts growing more urgent as he felt her desperation. “I’ve got you,” he murmured, his voice rough with need. “I’ll always take care of you.” His hands moved to her breasts, his fingers brushing over her nipples, sending shivers of pleasure through her. She gasped, her head falling back as the sensations overwhelmed her.

“Your tits,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire as he leaned down to take one of her nipples into his mouth. She moaned, her hands tangling in his hair as he suckled gently, his tongue teasing her sensitive skin. The combination of his cock filling her and his mouth on her breast was almost too much to bear. She could feel herself teetering on the edge, the pleasure building to a crescendo.

“Lando, I’m close,” she gasped, her voice trembling. “Please… I’m so close.”

He pulled back slightly, his eyes locking with hers as he continued to thrust into her, his movements steady and deliberate. “Come for me, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice laced with urgency. “Let go. I want to feel you come around me.”

His words were all it took. Her orgasm crashed over her like a tidal wave, her body trembling as pleasure radiated through her. Her walls clenched around him, milking his cock as she moaned his name, her voice breaking with the intensity of it.

For Lando, it was too much. The feeling of her pussy squeezing his cock, pulling him deeper into her, was unbearable. He let out a low, guttural groan, his thrusts growing erratic as he felt his own release building. “Fuck, Y/N,” he gritted out, his voice rough. “I’m going to… I’m going to come.”

She moaned softly, her body still quivering with the lingering waves of her climax as she felt Lando’s thrusts grow erratic, each one driving deeper into her. His hands—which had been gripping her hips with such possessive intensity—now roamed over her body, one sliding up to cup her breast while the other traced the curve of her belly. His fingers moved with a mix of reverence and desperation, as if he couldn’t get enough of her, even now.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he groaned, his voice ragged and thick with need. “You feel… so fucking good.” His thumb brushed over her nipple, the touch sending a jolt of pleasure through her already oversensitive body. She gasped, arching into his hand as he leaned down to capture her lips in a messy, heated kiss.

She could feel him trembling above her, his control slipping as his thrusts became shallow and unsteady. “I’m gonna come,” he warned, his voice low and gravelly, his breath hot against her skin. His hips stuttered, and then he was spilling inside her, his cock pulsing as he filled her with his warmth. The sensation was overwhelming—intimate, possessive, and so fucking good. She clung to him, her nails digging into his shoulders as he buried himself to the hilt, his release flooding her completely.

“Fuck, fuck,” he panted, his forehead resting against hers as he rode out the last waves of his orgasm. His hands roamed over her body, one cupping her breast while the other slid down to her hip, his touch grounding and possessive. “You’re fucking perfect,” he murmured, his voice rough and awed. “Every inch of you… I can’t get enough.”

She felt him softening inside her, but he didn’t pull away, instead staying connected to her, his hands continuing to explore her body with a tenderness that made her heart swell. His fingers traced the swell of her belly, then slid up to graze her nipple again, his touch feather-light and teasing. “So beautiful,” he whispered, his lips brushing against her temple. “I love you so fucking much.”

She sighed, her hands moving to cradle his face, her thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. “I love you too,” she murmured, her voice soft but filled with the same intensity that had been between them all night. She pulled him closer, her lips brushing against his in a slow, tender kiss that spoke of everything they’d just shared—and everything they still had yet to discover.

[moody-alcoholic]

These Violent Delights

Chapter 28- Bonus

Summary: poly 141 x fem!reader, a/b/o AU. WC: 2k

CW: alcohol, negative coping mechanisms, mentions of wounds.

TVD masterlist - next bonus

Enjoy <3

It’s dark when Simon, Kyle and Johnny get back to the building. 

They come straight into the medical room where John has been sitting by your bed. You finally fell asleep after a few more minutes and a few more drugs. You look relaxed, you look like you’re just sleeping. 

“How is she?” Kyle is the first to come over. John clears his throat and stands up out of the chair. Kyle takes his spot reaching out to pick up your hand. 

“She’s-” He doesn’t know what to say, you’re not okay but you’re alive, you’re breathing. Lucky Piper and Fleur come into the room. There’s not a lot of space and suddenly John’s feeling claustrophobic. 

“Let's talk outside.” He says, everyone nods and they all start to file out the room. John is last, leaving the door open slightly. Fleur comes over to Simon to look at his neck but he dismisses her.

“Let her check you out.” John says. This time Simon relents sitting down on one of the chairs pulling his mask up over his nose. Johnny goes to stand next to him as Piper looks around everyone nervously. 

“She’s okay.” Piper says. John doesn’t believe her, she’s not usually this tense - this worried. “It’ll take her a few days to recover before we can start trying to get her back.” 

“Get her back, how?” Kyle asks. 

“Right now her subconscious is in control. It’s trying to protect her, it perceives everything as a threat. That's why she’s sedated, it will give her time for her body to recover, for her to be able to rest. Eventually we’ll wean her off the sedation and when she realises there's no actual threat she’ll wake up.” Piper explains. She looks around to see if everyone is following. There are a few confused glances. John looks over at Simon, his wound already looks like it’s healing, Fleur finishes bandaging it up and he pulls his mask back down. 

“How long will it take?” Johnny asks. 

Piper shrugs and crosses her arms. “A couple of days, a week at least.” Johnny sighs looking over at John who takes a step forward. 

“One of us will be with her at all times. We’ll take it in turns every 4 hours” 

“I can stay first.” Johnny volunteers stepping up. John nods, he should be staying, it’s his fault you got hurt in the first place. 

“The guy she attacked.” John says looking up at Simon. “Anyone important?” 

“No. He was sneaking off base to visit his girlfriend. She just happened to come across him. His story checks out.” Simon says. 

“You should get some rest.” John nods at him. For a second it doesn’t look like he’s going to move, he quickly glances over at Johnny then stands up. 

“I can take the next shift.” Simon says, John nods. 

“If there’s any change, I don’t care what it is, I want to know.”  He looks over at Piper and Fleur. 

“Of course.” Piper says, she still looks like she’s about to burst into tears. Shit, she’s just recovered from being injured. John takes a step up to her. 

“Are you good? Do you need a break?” He asks, lowering his voice watching her face for a reaction. 

She shakes her head. “I’m good.” He nods then turns to Johnny, Simon and Kyle. 

“No one, I mean no one other than us, Piper and Fleur are allowed anywhere near that room. Anyone wants to go in they come to me, I don’t care if the queen of England herself shows up. No one goes into that room.” John says keeping his voice low and level, his eyes digging into Johnny.

“No one’s getting in.” Johnny replies, John smiles and pats him on the shoulder. 

“Good lad.” 

…

The bottle of whisky came out quicker than he expected. He couldn’t stand looking at the empty bed. The one he’s supposed to be sharing with you, the covers are still thrown back. The last time he was in bed with you feels like it was days ago, not hours. 

He let you down, he let you get hurt. He still remembers the scream, the shots. It didn’t feel real at the time, they all hoped it was nothing, maybe something exploded in the lab. Then he could smell it, taste it in the air, blood and fear, your blood and fear. 

It took Kate less than a day to figure out it was a shadow mole. It took another 2 days before they found him. He managed to fuck that up too.

He picks up his glass, swilling the caramel coloured liquid watching it coat the sides. There’s no ice here, he could go to the kitchen but he would rather be alone right now. He needs to think, he needs to keep going over everything in his head. Each time he could have stopped you from getting hurt - each time he let you down. 

He brings the glass up to his lips, breathing in the deep woody scent of the whisky before tipping it back. He lets it linger on his tongue, it’s not the good stuff - not that he’s drinking it for the flavor right now.

He puts the glass down immediately reaching over for the bottle to top himself up. He should stop, he should go outside, get some fresh air and then get some sleep. He can’t though not until he methodically breaks down his actions and what he should have done differently. 

He should have told you sooner about Hale. He should have upped security around the area from the start. He should have thought about moles, he should have moved you back to Scotland as soon as you recovered from being shot.

He feels anger rise and he sits up downing the glass. He should have been with you, instead he was distracted and let the mole slip right past them again. It was left up to you to protect Piper and it should have been him.

It should have been him. 

He doesn’t even remember finishing the next glass, just filling it up again. Kate tried to warn him, she put her fucking job on the line to come and warn him. Actually that's when he should have sent you back up to Scotland; when Kate arrived to warn him Shadow Company had slipped off her radar. 

He let himself believe he could protect you, he let himself become complacent. He let you down, he keeps letting you down. And you still trust him, you still look at him like he’s going to fix everything, like he’s your anchor in the storm. 

Maybe he’s no better then Hale, you keep getting hurt because of his stupidity and you still come back to him again and again. The next glass doesn’t taste as bad, the bitter taste only lingers for a second as his head starts to swim. 

He really should stop but he welcomes the fuzziness. Anything to chip away at the guilt that feels like it's choking him.

There’s a knock on his door. He’s not really in the mood for visitors right now. He gets up anyway, putting the empty glass down. When he opens it he sees Kyle standing there, he moves to the side letting him in.

“How are you?” Kyle asks as John slips his arm around his waist. 

“I’m okay, how are you?” John asks, pressing a kiss into Kyle’s neck. It’s a good distraction, John didn’t think he would want company but having Kyle here and the warm feeling of the whisky settling in his stomach is nice. 

Kyle turns in his arms, John keeps his hands firm on Kyle’s hips. “Worried.” Kyle says after a few seconds. John sighs, he wants to put him at ease but he can’t, he’s worried too, but he won’t admit that not right now. He needs to stay strong for the team, for the pack. He can’t spiral and he definitely can’t let them spiral. 

“It’s going to be okay.” John says, dropping his hands from Kyle's waist and going over to his desk. He reaches into the cupboard pulling out another glass, holding it up for Kyle. 

“I’m good.” Kyle says. John puts the glass down anyway, reaching over for the bottle and filling his glass up. Kyle steps up behind him and John turns with his glass in hand. 

“It’s not your fault.” Kyle says. It makes John’s stomach drop. John scoffs. He’s wrong, of course it’s his fault. He’s the captain, this happened on his watch. He knows Kyle’s trying to help but it’s not what he needs to hear right now. 

“How were you to know that Shadow Company had moles this deep?” Kyle asks, frowning. 

“It’s my job to know. I put everyone's life at risk.” John says, taking a sip of his drink. “I trusted Williams, I let my guard down again.” 

“You can’t vet a whole base.” Kyle says. 

“Then we should have stayed in Scotland.” John snaps. He doesn’t mean to, it’s not Kyle's fault, it’s no one's fault but his. He shouldn’t have listened to Williams, he should have listened to his gut. He knew moving was a risk, he knew leaving the safety of the highlands and putting his trust in MI6 was a bad idea. 

Simon was right though, Williams was right they couldn’t stay hidden forever. Eventually they would need to move and with Piper being alive they would have had a target on their back sooner rather than later. Hale was not going to stop, he’s not going to stop, not until he’s dead and in the ground. 

He feels Kyle reach out and touch his arm. It’s not as comforting as it should be, he looks in Kyle's eyes. It’s almost like he’s trying to plead with him to relax. He downs the rest of the whisky feeling it burn all the way down his throat. 

“It’s my job to fix this Kyle. No one else, I let the team down, the pack. People got hurt on my watch.” 

“She’s going to be okay.” Kyle says, dropping his arm as John turns away from him. 

“She shouldn’t be in this position. If I told her about Hale sooner-” He scoffs again putting the glass down on the desk before leaning over and bracing himself on it. “I should have killed him in America. I shouldn’t have left it to chance.” 

“You didn’t have a choice.” Kyle says. 

“There’s always a choice.” John lets out a sigh. Kyle's hand lands on his back, for a few seconds neither of them say anything. 

“I can stay.” He says. 

“No. I’m good.” John says as he grips the desk, he doesn’t believe the words as they come out. He just needs to be alone, he needs to think. More importantly he needs to make sure this doesn’t ever happen again. 

Kyle sighs letting his hand linger on John’s back for as long as he dares. “You know where to find me.” He says. There's no response from John, Kyle looks at the bottle on the desk before turning to leave. 

Simon is waiting for him when he comes out leaning up against the banister, he straightens up when he sees him. Kyle lets out a sigh and the both walk together. 

“He’s blaming himself.” Kyle says eventually. 

“To be expected.” Simon responds coldly. Kyle stops outside his room. 

“He’s half way through a bottle.” Kyle says. Simon sighs looking back towards John’s room.

“Get some rest. I’ll keep an eye on him.” 

“I don’t mind.”

“No. it’s okay, let's give him the night. He’ll be fine tomorrow.” Simon says, he sounds convinced. Kyle’s not so sure, he presses down on his door handle. 

“Does this mean you’re in charge now?” He asks, raising an eyebrow. Simon hums, he seems distracted by something. 

“Till he’s sober.” Simon says and heads for the stairs. “I’ll come get you in a few hours. Try and get some sleep.” 

“Si.” Kyle calls, he stops halfway down the stairs looking up at him. “She’s going to be okay.” Simon nods, then continues down the steps. Kyle watches as he heads over to John's office before looking back up at John’s door. He wants nothing more than to go over and force John to rest even if all he needs to do is just hold him. 

Instead he goes into his room. Maybe Johnny will join him after he’s finished his shift watching over you. Or maybe he won’t, whatever happens Simon’s right he needs to get some rest, it’s going to be a long week.

Chapter 28 - next bonus

Dividers by @plum98

[rosakuma]

FINALE PREDICTIONS FOR CH.5 TRAPPER, VICTIM, KILLER, SURVIVORS AND OTHER STUFF!

Hey sooo…..Tetro Pink ending soon with this and next Friday. Apologies for not making any post about the previous batch of episodes but they were…..a lot. Anyways! I am of course very sad and scared we’re close to the end of this fun tragic ride of Tetro Pink, but before we get to the finale BDA and trial next week. I want to crack a shot at who I think is dying, who’s responsible for the traps, who’s surviving, and what will happen after the trial. Now some of my predictions are just going to be a mixture of theory crafting with some evidence and just “I have a gut feeling about it”. None of what I’m going to say obviously going to be true(I mean look at my ch.4 prediction ), but I just want to give out my reasoning for each for fun!

Spoilers for ch.5 up to this point and kinda everything before ch.5

Okay getting started, let’s go over who I think did the traps, notes, stole wada’s stash, getting Ken and Ojima high and drunk, and who planted the drugs. Then we’ll get into who I think has the most victim and killer vibes. And finally the survivors and what might happen.

The traps, notes, and the reason behind it

With how frequent they keep getting from going from a gasoline bucket to a chloride, a bomb and then hatchet!? Yeah this is getting intense, but time to figure out who I think it is. Yeah its Ken Hasegawa.

Looking at all of the current suspects, it really boils down to Ken.

For starters we can easily eliminate Mai due to her at first accidentally triggering the traps intended for someone else and how the later ones are intended for her to find.

Hiroaki and Tamba were supposed to be the victims of the first two traps, so it would be weird for either to set the rest clearly for Mai. You could make the argument that the gasoline one was for Hiroaki by Tamba and the locker one was for Tamba by Hiroaki. But it's strange why Tamba would resort to violence towards him because during that point of the story, she clarified that she’s only going to stalk him to see if he’s suspicious and if he is, she’ll just hold him hostage until another murder happens. While for Hiroaki its strange because he clearly doesn't want to hurt or have anything to do with her and just want her to leave him alone. Also he doesn't know her schedule well to know when she would hit that trap.

Wada and Yanagi are a double package in terms of their own body betrays them. Specifically that Wada starving himself made him too weak for him to commit any of the traps with how he has to carry buckets full of gasoline and caltrops and even a ladder or chair to reach high enough for both the art room and locker room doorframe. Wada is 5’1, so he would have to get a ladder/chair to reach up there, but risk of being caught is too much for him. This kinda applies to Tamba too since she’s short(5’2 to be exact), although she is technically strong enough to lift a ladder/chair, but the risk of being caught too much. While for Yanagi, sure he’s tall enough to reach the doorframe of both rooms, so that’s not a problem. But there’s the fact Yanagi has both a concussion he’s recovering from and his hand being messed up still from Decision Game(Von even confirm that his hand in a permanent relaxed fist position). So he runs the risk of either collapsing from his symptoms of his concussion coming back or trying to lift up a heavy bucket filled with gasoline/caltrops one handed. There’s also the emotional factors with these two as the target neither of them would want to hurt on purpose even if the traps doesn't kill the person.

And then there’s Ojima who while tall enough with being 6’3, he runs into the emotional attachment factor(him caring for Hiroaki) and the fact he dissociates often to where he would be unable to set any of these traps. Especially with running the risk of easily being caught.

So all that leaves is Ken who has a good explaination for each of these concerns we might have. Reaching the door frame? Ken is 6’2 he’s tall enough to reach it without needing a ladder. Ken while nice to the others, isn’t that emotionally close/attach to them(due to him only staying by Kamimura’s side and never developing any further friendships with those alive) to struggle doing something to them that can possibly kill them. No physical barriers that prevent him from setting these up(yes he lose his eye, but that doesn't mean he can’t do anything still). And he’s not really accounted for where he was at for most of these events. Not to mention another thing that possible supports this theory is the fact he told Hiroaki that he was going to the storage room to find sealant for the cold lockers. And what happened soon afterwards? Oh nothing except a bomb blew up in a book that the note Mai received told her to. Which btw Hasegawa frequent the library most of the time too, where he would know where that specific book would be. And if Ken the trap setter, then he also has to be the note writer for Tamba’s death threat with how these new notes connect to the first one in trying to get Mai to trigger these traps and get to them. Especially since she’s the only one stubborn and stupid enough to continue doing them(sorry Mai Mai ily still). This also works with him being with Tamba before she found the note, so honestly he could’ve found out she’s going to the locker room after a certain amount of time and decided to plant it before she got there.

But why would he do all of this? My current running theory is that Ken has figured out something to help them escape somehow, but cannot directly speak it out loud. So to cause distraction from the doctors and Monomoko not catching onto him. He’s doing all of this to both distract everyone else with new worries popping up, distract the overseers into thinking he’s planning a murder, and to get Mai to specifically help him without telling her directly the plan. Hence, why the latest note mentions if she continues to follow the notes to help them all escape, Tamba will live and how this trapper needs her strength. Not to mention Mai is right that despite the traps hurting her, they’re not deadly to where they’re going to straight up kill her(I mean we can argue the bomb and hatchet, but she’s still kicking soooo…yeah). This can still fit with Hasegawa’s character in not wanting to really hurt or kill anyone despite not really bonding with anyone on a deeper level like he did with Toshi.

Now let’s get to next on the list of:

Wada’s Stash

There are two main suspects I have for who has possible done this. Those being Hasegawa and Tamba. Going over how they could’ve done it first, both these two have investigated the dorms before and have found his stash. Its possible either could remember the location of it to take it. Along with the fact a lot of people here keep forgetting to lock their doors too. But then there’s the factor that anyone still could’ve done it with most alive have seeing Wada’s room(Ojima when fixing his computer, Mai and Shigeki when investigating in ch.3). Another problem is what if he just moved his stash in his room somewhere else? How would they remember to find it then while being quick as possible to sneak in? Though I’ll still suspect these two based off of the motivation for each.

For Ken, it could connect with his plan if we go with my theory on him setting the traps. Somehow stealing Wada’s stash was important in terms of his plan. Perhaps as just another distraction for Wada and Mai to deal with. Or maybe Wada was hiding something else in his stash that Ken noticed before he would need. Plus it is possible even if Wada moved it, Ken was in his room before again during [Quick Check] since he agreed to help Wada with his selective mutism. Maybe he was searching Wada’s room to know where it is while Wada was chatting with Hiroaki.

Now what about Tamba that makes her a suspicious candidate? Well this mostly goes down to two things. 1. Tamba has always been the one who keeps going on about Wada’s stash since she doesn't like how he’s hoarding all this food from everyone. Not to mention getting on Wada about how much he eats. And 2. Her current paranoia could’ve caused her to maybe camp out somewhere(probably her dorm room before moving out due to the punishment).

So you might be wondering “Well why would she risk stealing from Wada’s room and not just…stock up in the kitchen or any remaining food left in the storage room?”. Well for the storage room, we don’t know if Wada actually did take all the food there plus its never restocked, so its hard to keep on inventory to be sure if something was there before or not. While for the kitchen….y’all remember what happened to Isono right? Staying in the kitchen to get something to eat, only to get her head bashed in by the only other person there. Yeah Tamba not taking a chance I bet if it was her.

Highsegawa and Drunkjima

Ok so this one is kinda hard since we don't know what exactly got Ken high and Ojima drunk. We’ll get Ken out of the way first.

So somehow Ken got himself high after the defence game. I’ve seen some say maybe he did this to himself to ease the pain. To which searching it up, it does say “THC or CBD binds to specific receptors on the brain and nerve cells, which slows pain impulses and eases discomfort.” So honestly it's possible. But Ken’s reaction may discourage this a bit. But okay let’s say regardless if Ken did this to himself or someone else, who got the THC and where from?

My only guesses are that its either from the medbay OR it was someone’s reward. And the only two people we know now that got an reward from Defence game is Tamba and Wada. But I have no clue why they would want to make Hasegawa high unless they were trying to help him I guess in a way to ease the pain? Knowing now that Wada was the one that picked the bodily sacrifice punishment for everyone, which caused Ken to lose his eye, maybe if its an reward that Wada received, he gave it to Ken due to feeling bad about what happened. They were both in the dining hall before Hiroaki and Ojima came in on the day Ken ended up high.

Okay so moving onto Takeshi. I think he got himself drunk. Let me explain. So the two times it seems he got himself drunk was after a love confession. The first one being himself slipping that he loves Hiroaki to him. While the second is Hiroaki saying he loves him back when Ojima waking up from his hangover. Each time, Ojima went to or remained in the art room where him and Hiroaki is sleeping. But then there’s the question “Where did Ojima get alcohol to drink in the paint room?” Well well well, who said it had to be alcohol? Apparently according to the web, you can actually get drunk off paint fumes. “In general, the effects appear similar to the effects of alcohol intoxication. Depending on the time spent inhaling, one may begin to feel a slight stimulant effect and a loss of inhibitions. As the chemicals take effect, the person will often feel as if they are intoxicated by alcohol.” So its likely that Ojima might’ve been huffing paint to forget about the love confession incidents. Though if not the love confession for why he’s getting himself drunk, then maybe it's his new way of coping with his trauma coming back to him to try not to space out. Or alternatively he’s doing this to cope with recent events of hurting others. Either way I am very concerned about this and I hope he stops(especially if he survives after all of this).

The Drugs

This one also still has me stumped. Sure I could just say it was leftovers from when Okazaki took them or that Ken planted them since I think he’s the trap setter. But I’m pretty sure that she used up all of Hiroaki’s drugs, these seem to be new, and Idk if Ken was planning yet to do anything that drastic to get Hiroaki to relapse. My only guess really if it’s not Ken or leftovers Hiroaki forgot about is that Tamba planted them.

I know that’s might be a reach since Tamba and Hiroaki didn’t start fully beefing with each other until she got the note. But let’s think about their relationship before hand. With this chapter revealing a lot about Tamba’s feelings on Hiroaki, with the spotlight as an added bonus that gives more insight, it’s clear she never hold a high opinion of him. Tamba did like Hiroaki a bit, but in a way she felt like she didn’t have to behave well since well Hiroaki way worse than her in comparison, so no one will really focus on her than him. And before all of this with the death threat and Watari’s trial, there was the stairwell incident(well the first one that is). Tamba almost hurt or potentially killed Hiroaki down the stairs because she was very paranoid. She didn’t mean to of course, but this was kinda brush off by her and some of the others despite Hiroaki being really upset about it. But that didn’t matter since during this time after the trial, Ojima and him were discussing a plan for him to apologize to everyone.

Hiroaki discovered the drugs before he apologized to Tamba and the others. So I could see with it being the finale trial where they have to just go through one more murder to get this done and over with that maybeeeeee….Tamba decided to make Hiroaki overdose so it counts as a suicide and they all get out scot free. To which staff side confirm if Hiroaki overdose from those drugs, it would count as a suicide. I know Tamba doesn’t have a way to know that’s completely true, but she doesn’t really think through anyways with things sometimes. Plus it would be a perfect plan as no one would probably guess it was her who planted them and just assumed that Hiroaki found them himself and did it because he’s an addict. So even if it does count as a murder, Tamba would win it and we know she’s not willing to die even to save Mai or Shigeki from her student spotlight.

Okay now it’s time to go through who’s potentially on the chopping block this chapter!

Before we do, let’s go over where everyone’s currently at the moment.

Hiroaki & Ojima- Balcony

Wada- Was in the hallway with Ojima presumably on the first or second floor, now should be back in the hallway by the stairwell with Mai and Tamba.

Ken & Yanagi- Both are trapped in the medbay/morgue, presumedly overnight.

Tamba & Mai- Both still at the bottom of the stairwell around the basement level near the hallways.

Going through this, I think really the most vulnerable at the moment of who could be killed is Yanagi and Ken right now. Sure Wada is at a vulnerable moment too of being caught, but the only person right now that could kill him is Mai. To which I doubt she would and plus, Tamba would know because Mai was with her while she was crying in pain from her fracture.

So unless Ken and Shigeki are let out by sometime tomorrow, I don’t think they’re going to be safe. There’s also the fact someone lock them in there and….yeah I think one of them did it and I think it was Ken. I don’t know why exactly, but when you rewatch the episode they get trapped in, Ken is the one to go to the door. He messes with it before saying it’s locked and Yanagi coming over to try opening it.

You could say maybe it was Hiroaki who lock the door to prevent Tamba from getting help. But that doesn’t make sense. There was a short time frame from when Ken and Shige went to the medbay and Ojima and Wada heading upstairs to find Hiroaki. The balcony not on the same level as the medbay is. So basically Hiroaki would’ve have to been camping out near the medbay to them, lock them in, and then rush upstairs without anyone noticing? Very unlikely and I do think he ran up stairs to hide near the balcony. Wada and Ojima were already upstairs. So Mai would have to be the only one who could’ve lock them in if it was a third party. But she obviously wouldn’t because why the hell would she lock the people in who’s trying to help Tamba? This entire chapter has her trying to find out who’s doing all of this and targeting Tamba for her sake of safety!

So yeah I think Ken lock him and Shigeki in the medbay. But I’m not 100% sure why. My guess is it might have to do with something with his plan, but I’m still not sure.

As for how this murder might go….all I can think of is somebody going to die via a trap.

Okay murder aside since I don’t have much to say, let’s just go down the list of who I think is dying as a victim or killer.

Victim(s)

Yanagi Shigeki- Yeah Yanagi high on my list for becoming the victim of this chapter. With how much importance it’s put on Yanagi protecting Mai. I have a feeling that knight’s oath will be the end of him as perhaps Mai might trigger another trap and he will try to save her by knocking her out of the way of it. Even if not through a trap, whoever trap him in that medbay whether it’s Ken or not surely doesn’t have have good plans for him. Also he confessed his feelings to Mai and this is Danganronpa, so of course he’s going to die before Mai can tell him her feelings about him too.

Hayashi Mai- Now I’m not fully sure if Mai dying or not as the victim as much as I was before we found out her reward is her vote being the only one voted as a solo vote. But there’s still a good chance she can be on the chopping block due to maybe the killer wanting to get rid of her pronto as she holds a lot of power right now. Plus if the trap setter is actually planning for a murder to happen, it could be hers.

Ojima Takeshi- So Ojima I was for sure thinking was going to die last chapter….he did not. But this chapter I am really afraid that might finally happen. I think most likely with how he’s a risk with falling into any deadly traps with his daydreaming or the fact he’s getting himself drunk can lead to this outcome. Plus the fact he also did a love confession this chapter as well isn’t a good sign for him and Hiroaki. Not to mention how tragic his death would be with last chapter focusing on how he’s afraid of dying young or that he’ll never be able to have a future with how much his lift been ruined by his parents and uncle.

As for the others, I didn’t put any for Hiroaki, Tamba, and Wada as I think they’re all red herrings in terms of dying. As for Ken, I don’t think he’s dying either as I think he’s going to play a big importance in this case.

Killer(s)

Wait why is it the exact same people + Ken? Lol yeah I also think the 3 picks I chose for the victims can alternatively be the killers in my eyes. This is kinda mixture on fitting any potential tragedy themes we could have for them while Ken is something I was thinking logically could happen.

Yanagi Shigeki- So if Yanagi’s not on the chopping block as the victim, then I feel like killer most likely would happen too. Now keep this in mind, him including my other picks minus the last one I’m thinking are going to get the Hama treatment in terms of accidental killing someone without realizing their actions did. So it would be tragic for Yanagi to actually be the finale killer compared to ch.1 where he was accused/framed as the killer of Isono. Especially with how the one who will be executing him is Mai…the woman he loves. And the worse part is, he would accept it as he rather save her and everyone else than his own life. After fall, his knight’s oath swears to protect her.

Hayashi Mai- Now if Mai instead ends up on the tragic accidental killer route, it would fit with how her falling into the mastermind’s trap of following all these notes and traps lead to her being turn into the killer. She would basically have to vote for herself to be killed just to save everyone….and you know she will. She swore to protect everyone and get them out alive right? So if she must, she will. Also how depressing if all of this happens and Yanagi the victim too? The man she might love who ended up confessing to her died because of her hands. Some Romeo and Juliet stuff right there man.

Ojima Takeshi- I feel so evil for this one, but this is kinda something I both don’t and want. It would fit soooo well in the tragedy of development this chapter has for Ojima with having him be afraid of hurting people to end up killing someone(albeit accidentally through a stupid trap). Which it’s possible even more now not because of him dissociating, but because he keeps ending up drunk. Just imagine a drunk Takeshi ends up triggering a trap that ends up killing someone else and he just stares at them. Dissociating from the whole event because he thinks he did it. To then have Hiroaki defend him the whole trial, seeming to save him only to be proven wrong and it’s true that Takeshi is counted as the killer of this case. Also while it would suck in a way if Ojima dies for Hiroaki’s development, it makes sense for it to happen. Up to this point, Hiroaki didn’t lose anyone close to him. Sure, he did lose Chiba and Tsuno, but he didn’t get to develop those bonds further than he would like to and sadly didn’t treat them right when they were alive as well. Ojima been the only one he’s been close to since day one he cares about from beginning to end. To lose him allows him to show the vulnerability he’s been hiding from the whole group this entire time and cement how he’s just like the rest of them. A scared teenager who loss someone they care and even loved thanks to this horrible game.

Hasegawa Ken- Okay so Ken really not that high on my list as while I do think he set up all of these traps, I don’t think he’s going to be counted as a killer seeing how Watari’s trial works and the fact staffside confirm that if Okazaki only killed Tsuno via trap, it counts as a suicide due to Tsuno opening the trap door. But in the scenario he does, yeah he might be on the chopping block as the killer. Though I will say it would be cool if he does end up as the killer, he somehow escapes his execution with how most likely he has a plan for him and everyone to escape.

So that leaves the remainder as who I think will be the survivors are:

Hiroaki Nakamigawa

Wada Masanari

Tamba Ruiko

Hasegawa Ken

and whoever out of my 3 picks escapes both the victim and killer allegations. To which if you want me to bet who, then I’m betting Mai.

After all of that, how do I think Pink is going to end? Well for starters we know it’s next week as it’s confirm we only have 2 Tetro Fridays left. So definitely no chapter six and the epilogue is most likely going to be just be on the same day as the trial.

I have 3 scenarios that I believe in. Spoiler alert, I don’t believe in the solo survivor theory via killer wining or battle royale or memory erase theory. So no mentions of those for these.

Scenario 1: Escape from the School!

So this theory is that after the trial during the execution, the students are going to escape with a plan thanks to Ken. This might involve them raiding the arsenal for weapons or a reward one of them won on one of the previous games. This can also maybe save the killer of this chapter and result in us having 6 survivors instead of 5! Alternatively if not themselves allowing their escape, imagine if Monomoko helps them escape since there’s still a good conscience in them. Eventually everyone gets out, steals a car, and boom! They all escape free and swear revenge on these people for doing this to them.

Scenario 2: So can I go home now?

It just simply happens. After the trial, everyone gets to go home as promised. Of course they’re taken outside probably in bags and transported to a secluded area away from the lab so they themselves can figure out the way back to their homes together. Too much of a risk to just simply drive them all home obviously. This allows the students to if they desire give each other their contacts and travel home first, then swear revenge on their captors later.

Scenario 3: *Vanishes out of Thin Air*

This is relatively the same as the previous scenario, except Monomoko just teleport them all back to their homes. Just poof! They’re gone. At most we might get a hint of one of the students deciding to try to seek out the others so they can figure out what happen to them all and who done this to them. Especially since they need to figure out what to tell the public for some of them.

To which after any of these scenarios it just cuts to Yonekura like usual, as they prepare the next set of students….

We’ll see if I got anything right from these! See y’all tomorrow, I’m so scared rn!

[otp-after-dark]

“Because if I wake you, then you leave. So how is that a win for me?” —June Osborne, 2x03

We’re still in the Boston Globe. It’s been two months. And June? She’s running, pacing, surviving. Still hiding, still waiting. Still free — but barely.

“Women are so adaptable, my mom would say. It’s truly amazing what we can get used to.”

And then we get it — the rarest thing in all of Gilead: Nick and June in what almost feels like normal. Coffee. A soft shirt. Morning light. Actual jokes.

He’s been staying with her. Overnight. Maybe often. And when he finds her already awake, she throws out:

“Because if I wake you, then you leave. So how is that a win for me?” Nick smirks. She smiles. And we feel it — this is the closest thing to real they’ve ever had.

She asks about Hannah. And this is the beginning of something we’ll see again and again: Nick doing everything he can to get her back to her daughter. Not because he wants credit. But because he listens. Because he remembers what June says when she’s angry, scared, falling apart — and he makes it count.

He tells her she has to go. That it’s what’s best — for everyone. And when she hugs him before she leaves? She doesn’t just hug him. She melts into him. Nuzzles his neck. Fully leans into the feelings she’s been holding back. It’s soft. And it hurts. Because she knows what leaving means.

And when the Mayday driver shows up, she asks the question anyway:

“Is Nick coming?” She knows the answer. But she has to ask.

Meanwhile, we finally get more of June’s relationship with her mother — and it hits harder now knowing how much this will surface again in Season 6. From rallies to long-standing disapproval, her mom wanted her to fight. Not “play house.” Not blend in. Not be soft.

And now? Her mom’s presumed dead in the colonies. And June is still trying to carry the weight of her choices.

“Raise your daughter to be a feminist and she spends all her time waiting to be rescued by men.”

As June boards a plane — alone, without Hannah — the guilt lands heavy. And that final voiceover? A monologue about motherhood, forgiveness, grief, and letting go. It’s so quiet. So crushing. And it sets up exactly why she’ll later choose to stay.

[tearsofdiamonds]

🔥🔥🙏🙏🙏🙏 im losing ym shit

sorry girl but that picture of jennifer and needy + the pictures of youngliz gave me other thoughts 😵‍💫

wonyoung and liz as jennifer and needy is a concept that i love. i can see them as the typical best friends that are about the popular pretty girl duo that has all the guys in the palm of her hand + loser friend who is a virgin and doesn’t even use Instagram to try to flirt or get guys but just because she likes to support her friend’s posts… type of friendship where liz’s parents would say that wonyoung is a bad influence and that they should look for better options for friendships, little knowing that liz loves this type of dynamics.

also the friendship between two girls that looks like a toxic lesbian situationship. they don’t date or anything like that, but the behavior of both is always like a relationship full of jealousy and obsessive acts even when wonyoung claims to be straight and half the school is after her while liz stays like her virgin loser best friend who never leaves the house because she prefers to stay in her room and read all day rather than come out of her cave and enjoy life like any average teenager would.

and the heated conversations with a certain amount of tension were always present. being best friends since they were children, they already have a habit of having sleepovers every weekend, leaving school on friday afternoon and heading to someone’s house to spend the whole weekend together and then going to school together on monday morning.

“hello?” wonyoung, who was barely entering her teens, gently touched the blonde’s forehead, giving liz a gentle tap on the forehead, as she always enjoyed doing. “we turned thirteen last month! we’ll be starting high school soon. we have to be prepared~”

and liz didn’t understand what her best friend was referring to! “prepared for…?”

“for boys, right? we’ll have to be prepared for tongue kissing and sex. don’t tell me you feel like we’re not ready for that yet.”

and well, that was the first time there was a weird moment between them! wonyoung teaching liz how to kiss using her tongue and her whole mouth wasn’t something liz had ever thought about... she hadn’t even had a crush on a guy, so kissing was something that was so far from her thoughts, but it’s good that wonyoung is a great friend who wouldn’t allow her best friend to look like a silly brat who doesn’t know how to behave once the opportunity presents itself with a guy, so spending almost the entire night sticking her tongue almost down liz’s throat was both of their favorite activities for a long time <3

that hasn’t changed until now. both in wonyoung’s room, talking about the upcoming party one of the school’s athletes was planning. liz wasn’t the going–out type, only accepting invitations when she knew her best friend would be attending.

“we have to prepare you for when a guy wants to take the next step with you.”

and liz is more than fed up with hearing that! wonyoung constantly seems to want to try to get her to have something with some guy because ut seems to bother her that liz keeps her social status at the same level, but at the same time she seems to get annoyed when some guy gets too close to liz, even if he’s a classmate being kind to liz and managing to get a smile out of her.

but the words get stuck in liz’s throat when wonyoung instead of starting to give advice like always chooses to crawl over to where she is in bed… liz would say something if it weren’t for wonyoung taking her jaw and making her listen instead of saying something stupid.

“you’re gorgeous, liz. beautiful face, nice tits, big ass… i don’t understand how no guy has asked you out yet.” liz’s face changes to shades of red.

how could i say that this ends with wonyoung training liz for when she finally sleeps with a man? liz is so dumb that she doesn’t have a voice of her own that she doesn’t even dare to refuse when her best friend tells her that she’ll fuck her to prepare her when she gets the chance with a guy :( choosing the strap with a considerable size, big and thick enough to get liz used to the moment she has to take a real cock she doesn’t feel uncomfortable and don’t try to give up the moment you feel full and be a little sissy about it.

“first you have to give him head. the vast majority of guys like their cocks sucked. then you’ll learn how to do it so you don’t suck the first time.” wonyoung would say sweetly, looking at liz with loving eyes and a mocking smile as she notices how the blonde looks with big doubtful eyes at the silicone cock that gives her the feeling that it will be a difficult task to do…

wonyoung guiding liz at all times <3 showing her how she has to tease a little first because sometimes it’s better to tease first with kitten licks, asking her to maintain eye contact with her as liz slowly inserts the dildo into her mouth because in wonyoung’s words, “that’s what guys like,” telling her to use one of her hands to pump the shaft of her cock while she in turn bobs her head up and down on the other half of her cock… she even dares to take liz’s soft and silky blond locks in one hand, holding them in a ponytail and using it to move liz’s head and simultaneously moving her hips against her face to fuck her mouth properly. liz is so wrapped up in her task and following the advice her friend is giving her that the poor fool doesn’t realize that this stopped being just help and tips for her future a long time ago…

and wonyoung training liz’s pussy so she can take a real cock tomorrow, only liz is now about to collapse because if she struggles to take wonyoung’s cock in her mouth, she doesn’t want to imagine how hard it will be for her pussy to do it this time!

wony giving words of encouragement to liz as she slides the silicone cock into her best friend :( awww she is showering liz with sweet words, taking advantage of the small moment where liz seems to be ��okay” to instruct her to place her hands on the back of her knees and push them against her chest because, again, “that’s what boys like,”

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

☣️☣️☣️☣️☣️☣️☣️☣️☣️☣️☣️☣️☣️☣️☣️☣️☣️🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🪽🪽🪽🪽🪽🪽🪽🪽🪽🪽🪽🪽🪽🪽🪽🪽🪽🪽🪽🪽🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🫶🏻

51 for ☣️:

---

Uh, no? He doesn’t. No animal-related allergies here.

“Athena, I-”

Athena nudges him. “Right, Buck?”

“Yep. Cats. Hate ‘em,” Buck stammers.

Roz narrows her eyes. Buck is lost.

“The cat allergies are getting sort of concerning,” Athena says. “We thought you might be worried too. Especially considering his didn’t start until after the first time we all met.”

Oh. Okay, Buck is following now. 

Roz huffs. “I can’t talk about it, Sergeant Grant.” 

Athena nods. Buck realizes that’s the confirmation she needs. There is a connection here.

“Because of Netch-Co,” Athena replies.

“Please,” she says. “I’ve signed an NDA.”

“Okay,” Athena says. “Got it. We’ll leave you alone.”

“Thank you,” Roz sighs.

“Just one more thing,” Athena asks.

Roz’s expression tightens. 

“Something is happening to Buck,” Athena says quietly. “Something is happening to you. We want to get to the bottom of it. We don’t want to get you in trouble, Roz. So just point us in the right direction, and maybe we can help you, too.”

Buck’s stomach twists. He needs her to throw them a bone. Just a little one. 

Roz’s eyes water. She looks scared. Buck finds he feels scared, just looking at her.

She takes a deep breath. “If your allergies are under control, you should go for a hike around Bouquet Reservoir. It’s really beautiful this time of year. You might find it interesting.”

And then she slams the door in their faces.

---

60 for 🪽:

---

“Eddie, oh my god,” Maddie exhales.

“Eddie?” Chim asks, approaching them. “Whoa, are you okay?”

“I’m sorry,” Eddie blubbers. He covers his mouth with his hand. “I’m so sorry.”

Maddie looks at Chim, concerned, before addressing Eddie again. 

“I didn’t realize you’d be so… Uh, sorry.”

“Neither did I,” Chim says, eyebrows furrowing.

“Can I see him?” Eddie asks. “Please?”

Maddie nods. She still looks confused. “Bobby’s in with him.”

Eddie takes a shaky breath and hurries towards Buck’s room. Maddie and Chim must be so confused. He can be empathetic to that. None of this will likely ever make sense to them. Hell, Eddie doesn’t even know if it makes sense to him. But he doesn’t care - it doesn’t need to make sense. 

His angel is alive. That’s all that matters. 

He sees Bobby when he walks through the doorway. He’s sitting next to Buck’s bed, squeezing his hand, grinning tearfully. 

And then there’s Buck.

His bed has been adjusted into a sitting position. His eyes are open. Those beautiful eyes. They’re sunken and tired and weary. But they’re open. And they land right on Eddie.

Eddie breaks down again. He can hardly breathe. 

“Buck,” he exhales, before rushing to his side. 

Buck smiles weakly. He lifts his arm to reach for Eddie, but Eddie can see the strain it causes him. He hasn’t used his body in years. He imagines he hardly can, right now.

“It’s okay,” Eddie says. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

Eddie bends over him. Hugs him. Kisses his head. He squeezes him so tightly he worries he’ll break him. He feels breakable.

When he pulls away, they’re both crying. 

“How?” Eddie laughs, tears streaming down his face. “How are you okay?”

Buck opens his mouth and tries to speak. A raspy, pained noise is all he can manage.

“Later,” Bobby says for him. “He needs to rest his voice right now. Used it all to demand you come here.”

Color floods Buck’s cheeks. 

---

39 for 🔼:

---

“Uh…” Buck frowns. “It was weird.”

Shannon finishes off Eddie’s green hand. 

“Weird how?” She asks.

“Uh, okay,” Buck looks at Jane nervously. “So, Connor and Kameron they… They want to have a baby.”

Shannon’s stomach clenches. She’s been trying not to think about babies lately. She definitely doesn’t want one. Not at all. That’s silly. She already has two. Like the one massacring her husband’s pink manicure right this very moment.

“Good for them,” Eddie says neutrally. 

“Yeah, uh…” Buck makes a weird face. “They’re having fertility issues.”

“Oh,” Shannon replies. “That’s too bad.”

“They need, uh… A donation,” Buck says. 

“Wait, like… From you?” Eddie asks. 

“They asked, yeah,” Buck says. 

Shannon goes sort of rigid. 

“What?” She demands. 

But Jane interrupts the conversation.

“All done!” She exclaims, looking at Eddie’s pink hand. 

“Wow, Jane,” Eddie says. “Thank you, kiddo.”

“Dry it now, Daddy,” she instructs. 

[fantasyinvader]

Regarding the problem at hand, I feel like it forms the core of Edelgard’s fatal flaw. The more we get to know Edelgard, the more it’s clear she knows more than she lets on. Houses makes it clear that she knows the experiments, murder of her siblings and Ionius being made into a puppet were done by the Agarthans, Hopes adds that she deliberately ignored how much influence they had over the empire. She knows they want her to go after the Church as well and are trying to use her towards that end.

But on the flipside of this, there’s Byleth in the BE route who helps those around them, can wield the Sword of the Creator and even be saved by the Goddess. This is also a person who put themselves between her and an axe without knowing her. Going by The Girl from Hresvelg, her time at Garreg Mach also causes her to become attached to the place regardless of route, begin questioning her path forward, but in the end she throws it all away to go forward. If being at Garreg Mach and engaging in that environment, even if she was playing the part of an innocent schoolgirl, was enough to make her think that maybe she shouldn’t go through with her goals, in addition to how the teaching gig spurs Byleth’s character growth, something about the place was having an effect that could have been positive.

But Edelgard rejected it.

Let’s examine that for a second. Edelgard was told, by her father, that the nobles were the ones who ruined her family and they did it because the Church was secretly controlling them or whatever. Fine. But Edelgard herself knows that the experiments were carried out by TWSITD, who directly tell her they were (alongside Duscur) all to give her power so that she may bring them salvation and purge the world of beasts. She knows that they want her to go after the Church, and per Hubert she knows that her father was their puppet. Therefore, Edelgard knows the person who told her the Church was the source of Fodlan’s problems was a puppet of the Agarthans, who make it pretty clear that they want her to go after Rhea. Edelgard ignores the evidence that Agartha has deep influence over the empire as well as how her family kicked out the Church over a century prior in addition to how the Alliance’s political structure makes it so the Church has little influence over there. Yet Edelgard still decides to go to war despite her time at Garreg Mach making her start to question this role. And in the Black Eagles route, she sees Byleth saved from Agartha’s assassination attempt by the Goddess she’s been told is false.

The war only happens because Edelgard is either 1) craves power so much she simply doesn’t care about the truth, or 2) Edelgard is a massive fucking idiot.

She hardened her heart and continues to scapegoat the Church for Fodlan’s ills while, again, ignoring that she knows Agartha was behind a lot of things or holding a lot of influence. Hell, she only acknowledges the Southern Church that her family abolished when she decides to revive it to spread her own beliefs. And if Byleth and the CoS are the ones who defeat her, and in the process invalidate her belief in how people need to rely on their strength rather than on others, she won’t quit unless she is killed. That whole scene has her gripping of Sword of Seiros while her hand leaves Aymr, she’s gripping a weapon that restores her HP when equipped, and making it clear the only way forward for Byleth is over her grave. Edelgard does not repent, even if her last words were originally meant to be taken as “with my death, we’ll walk together.” If Byleth were to show Edelgard mercy, she’d take the opportunity to kill them and the game wants us to feel sorry for her.

Houses happens simply because Edelgard is stupid, evil or her character alignment is basically stupid evil.

I find it kinda funny how we can apply the idea of forgiveness to this. In the Buddhist sense, us forgiving Edelgard is us letting go of our hatred towards her. Doesn’t mean we allow her to do as we please, simply that when we fight to stop her we do so because it will end the suffering she’s causing rather than as a vendetta against her. If we take it from a Christian perspective, Edelgard’s denial and denouncement of Sothis would push her more towards the unforgivable sin, blasphemy against the Holy Spirit which can be described as hardening one’s heart against the Holy Spirits attempts to guide someone into repenting their actions and find faith. And that fits Edelgard to a T. Christian symbolism paints Edelgard’s path as one of sin, Buddhist as one of evil and stupidity.

It’s almost like the Buddhist symbolism really is meant to tell players Edelgard’s path is a stupid evil path. Her inability to abandon said path and the ideals that led to it despite all of the above she knows is why the war happens. Even when Garreg Mach was making her question that path, she hardened her heart and rejected the faith her ancestors helped spread. She is unrepentant, even when defeated, and will keep marching her path until she’s dead. Show her mercy and she’ll repay it with an attack. Therefore, Edelgard has to die for there to be peace.

@randomnameless

There’s really something... off about the writing of Three Houses, isn’t there? According to the devs, they wanted players to immerse themselves in Fodlan. It wants us to pick up all the bits of lore and backstory, see the implications of what’s being said, connect the dots and the like. This is all meant to back up the natural progression of the story regardless of which House we pick to teach, in addition to showing the player how wrong the fourth route is if the fact it’s leader wasn’t depicted as the “Lady of Deceit” wasn’t enough of a clue. It’s supposed to be on us to figure out the mysteries and how they work, and the fact the localization changed information that was meant to be clues does not help.

Sure, you can say that “everyone’s a hero from their own POV” and that might be true in the case of Houses. Edelgard and those who join her believe they are heroes and doing the right thing, but that doesn’t mean that they ARE doing the right thing and the point of immersing ourselves in Fodlan is for the things I mentioned above to start making it clear to the audience what the game views as right and wrong. And, again, the localization doesn’t help because it wants to lean into things being morally grey and that it’s not just that the villain believes she is the good guy, it wants her to be the good guy with it’s alterations to the script.

But here’s the issue; the game basically relays a lot of this through exposition. And the game is so freaking focused on handing out exposition we get stuff like characters never bringing up the Flame Emperor again after the reveal. People don’t react to stuff like a normal person would, not when they can give a piece of information for the player’s string board, nor are they capable of piecing things together themselves unless the plot calls for it (like Claude pointing out the diversity at Garreg Mach). Hell, they released Hopes with exposition they couldn’t fit into Houses!

People would be horrified by what Edelgard is doing, and would be commenting on it. Characters would normally call this shit out, even Fates knew that, but in Houses it’s absent and it makes Fodlan feel so shallow as a result. Like the people aren’t even living there, they’re just reciting lines. And this shallowness resulted in people believing the game was saying things were okay because the characters went along with it. Like Hanneman confirms that the empire still uses demonic beasts in Flower if recruited, so what does it say about the noble students given ranks of general by the empire doing so after going through White Clouds and knowing where Edelgard’s war assets come from? Chances are they were all commanding demonic beasts themselves prior to the formation of the BESF.

Houses tries to be smart, but this all makes it feel like it’s secretly poorly written. If people are walking away with the wrong idea of what the game was trying to say, then there’s a big problem there. Translation plays a role, sure, but this all goes back to the game’s original script and how inorganic the worldbuilding actually was.

It reminds me of Gundam Reconguista in G. In the first episode, the very idea of exposition is mocked when the protagonist is asked a question by his teacher. He says everyone already knows the answer so why should he, but the teacher responds by telling him to just repeat the textbook answer. It highlights how artificial most exposition actually is, done for the convenience of the audience rather than making sense in-universe. The show then spends it's time giving exposition when the characters need it rather than for the audience. It made the show harder to follow, sure, but in the end the world felt so thought-out and lived in it felt believable.

Fodlan does not feel believable in the slightest. It feels like everyone there has no attention span whatsoever, or robotic tour guides telling us about the setting rather than the game showing us this crap.

[sleevebuscemii]

turns out im not depressed i just needed to see my best friend

[phannibal]

even just seeing mulder’s mouth form the word bitch raises my blood pressure

[aviangrian]

thank god chappell roan didn’t release good luck babe in summer 22!

[pathologicalreid]

here with me | s.r.

four times Spencer feels out of place in your house after being released from prison, and one time it's like he never left

margotober masterlist

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: mom!reader, dad!spencer, post prison, crying, stephen walker's death, non-specified illness, baking, kissing word count: 3.58k a/n: i love this fic format i have been wanting to do it for ages. and here we are. as always-tell me how you feeeeeeeel

“I wanna stay home,” your daughter whined from her place at the kitchen table. She periodically reached to her sister’s high chair so that she could steal blueberries from her plate.

You hummed, pouring the egg mixture into the preheated skillet, “We played hooky yesterday, bub. We’ve gotta go back to school today.” Using a silicone spatula, you started to scramble the eggs.

She grumbled unintelligibly, dramatically sliding down the chair, “Livvy gets to stay home.”

Turning down the heat on the stove, you went around the counter and crouched in front of your five-year-old, “Well, Livvy’s two, and before you ask, Finn’s not going to school either.”

“Finn’s a baby, mom. He can’t go to school,” she told you proudly.

You frowned at your daughter, “It’s hard to be the oldest, honey. We can’t keep staying home.” Ruffling her hair affectionately, you get up from the floor and go back to the stove, you continue scrambling the eggs.

To your eldest, going back to kindergarten was a fate worse than death. It wasn’t strictly that she didn’t want to go to school, it was that she didn’t want to leave home. The sniffle from the table lets you know that this morning was going to be harder than you initially anticipated. “I wanna stay with daddy,” she cried, kicking her legs at the table.

Turning off the heat, you set the pan on a trivet before going back to the table, “I know,” you responded. Every time you thought you had run out of tears, new ones managed to find their way out.

Of your three kids, Eleanor was old enough to really feel Spencer’s absence. To your dismay, she ended up bearing some of the burden of her father being gone for three months. After staying with your parents for a few days, she was finally reunited with her dad yesterday morning, and they had been nearly inseparable since.

“Oh, Nell,” you sighed, cupping her cheeks in your hands, “I don’t know if daddy has plans today. He has a lot of stuff that needs to be done.

Pulling away from your touch, she frantically wiped the tears from her eyes, “I can do stuff too,” she whimpered.

She unwound your resolve like a ball of yarn, “I know you can, honey. I just…” you faltered. You had let her miss so much school over the last three months that the school had sent letters home, “We’ll just have to see.”

You sighed helplessly, standing back up and smiling softly at Olivia, who had successfully gotten blueberry juice everywhere. Returning to the kitchen, you put some scrambled eggs on Eleanor’s plate and put more in a bowl for Olivia, setting it aside to cool more before you give it to your toddler.

Putting the pan in the sink, you flipped on the tap before starting to clean it. While you kept a watchful eye on the baby monitor, you didn’t notice Spencer come downstairs and walk into the kitchen. In fact, you were completely unaware of his presence until he spoke, “Can I help with anything?”

You lost your grip on the pan, sending soapy water flying all over the kitchen as you frantically tried to catch the handle. Eleanor either didn’t notice or didn’t care. Olivia thought it was hilarious. “Oh,” you breathed as Spencer reached over and turned off the water, “You scared me.”

The two of you shared a timid glance, his hand ghosting over your waist as he walked past you to where the girls were sitting.

Biting the dead skin off of your lips, you finished rinsing the pan before setting it on a drying mat. You were wiping down the countertop when Finn finally woke up, and you dropped everything to go get him from his crib, almost like you were running on autopilot.

Unzip the sleep sack. Change the diaper. Get dressed. Cuddle him. Every morning. In that order.

Resting the groggy baby on your hip, you made your way back downstairs and into the kitchen, starting the bottle warmer and listening to the conversation between Spencer and Nellie.

“What if you go to school today, but on Friday we can both take the day off? We could go out for lunch,” he offered, crouching down so he was at her level.

She looked pointedly over at Olivia, who was happily eating the eggs that you assumed Spencer had given her, now thoroughly doused in ketchup, “Just us?”

Spencer nodded reassuringly, “If it’s okay with mommy, we can have a daddy and Nellie day.” He reached out tentatively and tucked some of her hair behind her ear, everything about him seemed so timid.

You looped around the kitchen table, ruffling Olivia’s hair before doing the same to Eleanor’s and even Spencer’s, which made Olivia giggle.

“Can I?” Spencer asked, nodding his head to the bottle that you had just grabbed from the warmer.

Blinking absently for a moment, you eventually nodded, handing Finn over to his dad along with the bottle, watching as Spencer cradled him, walking him around the kitchen while his bottle was clamped between his tiny hands. “Hey, girls, time to get dressed,” you said, forcing yourself to peel your eyes off of your husband.

Eleanor groaned but got up anyway, trudging up the steps while you followed with Olivia in your arms, feeling like you were missing something without Finn also in tow.

Nell made her way back down first, sitting on the couch and watching her dad, keeping an eye on him like she was afraid he was going to disappear before her very eyes. “Daddy?” She whispered, her voice barely audible from your place at the top of the stairs.

“Yeah?” He asked, you heard the sound of him setting the bottle in the sink.

She’s quiet for a moment before responding, “I missed you.”

Spencer’s footsteps stopped abruptly, “I missed you too, lovebug.”

You started to make your way down the stairs, letting Olivia go down on her own now that she wasn’t covered in blueberry. Eleanor looked at you with big eyes before helping her sister climb up on the couch. “Finny, Finny, Finny,” Olivia echoed.

Zipping up Eleanor’s school lunch in her bag, you sighed, hoping you were doing the right thing by sending her to school. “Hey, Nell,” you said, checking a new message on your phone, “Mrs. Jareau is here.”

JJ’s carpools had saved you multiple times while Spencer was in prison, you were just grateful she was willing to continue them.

Normally, she’d run out the door at the prospect of being able to talk to Henry, but this time she lingered by the front door, holding her backpack straps in her hands and staring at her dad, “Will you be here when I get home?”

He looked at you, a thousand emotions flashing in his brown eyes, and he squatted in front of her, “I’ll be here,” he said, holding out his pinky finger to interlock with her much smaller one. “I promise,” he said, kissing her forehead before standing up.

Once you knew she was off to school, you made sure Olivia was settled in on the couch and Finn was in his bouncer before going back to the kitchen to finish cleaning up. You were placing dishes in the dishwasher when Spencer came back.

“I’m sorry,” he said, leaning against the countertop and handing you a bowl to put on the top rack.

Taking the bowl, you didn’t look at him as you placed it in the dishwasher before putting a tablet in and pressing the start button, “I wish you’d stop apologizing.”

He stepped slightly closer to you, “I know. It’s just… watching you handle all three of them in the morning. It’s incredible,” he praised you. “I left you alone,” he said mournfully.

You shrugged, having never really thought of it that way, “You didn’t leave me alone. I had them,” you said, nodding in the direction of the living room, where Finn and Olivia were having a conversation that only the two of them could understand.

You sighed in relief as the shower water washed over you, an early afternoon shower just before Eleanor got home from school, the little ones were down for their naps, and you had to race against time before one of them woke up. It didn’t give you a lot of time to just sit under the running water, but you’d have enough time to wash your hair before you needed to pause the shower.

You had narrowly avoided disaster this morning when the girls’ breakfasts had been mixed up. Thankfully, you navigated a toddler meltdown that was triggered by the appearance of ham in her eggs. Poor Spencer was still confused even after you explained to him that she wouldn’t eat ham because it’s pink and pink is her favorite color.

It wasn’t something that made a lot of sense to you either, but the only person that it needed to make sense to was your two-year-old.

Rinsing your hair, you remembered how happy Spencer had been when he got Finn down last night. He’d spent the day talking about how babies don’t start to really recognize faces until they’re around four months old, and that was about how old he was when Spencer left.

Finn knew his dad. He’d even started reaching out for him when he wanted to be held but feeling comfortable enough to be put down for the night by him—it felt like a milestone.

The crying started right after you finished rinsing your hair, you quickly shut off the water and grabbed your towel off of the hook. Wrapping it around yourself, you dried off your feet before opening the bathroom. Sometimes when Finn cried while you were in the shower, you’d just bring him in with you to finish, but when you opened the door, his tears were already waning.

Spencer had gotten to him first, scooping him out of the crib in your room and holding him to his chest, “Hey, buddy,” he cooed softly, “What’s wrong?”

The baby chattered in response, gripping the cotton of Spencer’s t-shirt in his tiny fists and wiping his tears away.

“You’re alright,” Spencer whispered, placing him on your bed to undo his sleep sack, smiling at his son when he kicked his legs once freed. “You just wanted to be held, huh? Your sister was the same way when she was a baby,” he said.

Nell. He was remembering Nell as a baby, who slept best when she was being held and would cry if you were out of her line of sight.

Spencer turned around, stopping in his tracks when he saw you in the doorway, “Did you finish?”

You’d been caught, “Oh. Could you get a new soap from the hall closet? We’re out,” you fibbed, mindful of the way your hair was still dripping wet.

He frowned, “I just put a new one in this morning. Did you look on the caddy?”

Blinking, you shook your head, “No, my bad.”

You had already started closing the door when he called for you, “Honey?”

Pausing, you peeked out the door to look at him, “Yeah?”

“I’m here,” he told you, something urgent in his tone.

Your face warmed, the reminder of his presence making your heart race, “I—” you faltered, “I know.”

You had managed to get Nell out the door without a fight this morning with the promise of her father-daughter date tomorrow. Olivia was settled with her toys in your line of sight and Finn was in a sling. The baby hadn’t slept well last night, and you were fairly certain that he had a new tooth poking through. He seemed fine now, catching up on sleep while you wiped down the kitchen.

Spencer was across from you, filling out some required papers for his reinstatement hearing. He hadn’t fully committed to seeking reinstatement until you brought it up. Frankly, you were horrified by the fact that Spencer was under the impression that you would ask him to leave the BAU for any reason.

“What do you have planned today?” Spencer asked you, still focusing on the papers while making gentle conversation with you.

You raised your eyebrows briefly, “Really awesome exciting stuff.” You took a sip of your coffee before adjusting Finn’s sling. Very slowly, you were beginning to find a new routine with Spencer and the kids in the morning. Spencer was learning about everything that had changed, and you were learning how to give him more responsibilities around the house.

You needed to let go of the notion that you were still alone. Spencer hummed in response, laughing at your blatant oversell, “Like what?”

Smiling, you dried your hands on a tea towel before standing next to him, distracting him from his paperwork with the cuteness of a sleeping baby. “There is so much dirty laundry in this house,” you told him, “I’m surprised anyone has any clean clothes.”

“Anything else?” Spencer asked, placing one hand gently on your hip and pressing a tentative kiss to your lips.

You hesitated, “Uh, cooking?”

He looked at you curiously, “Cooking for what?”

Chewing on the inside of your lip, you looked over at Olivia, making sure she was preoccupied before answering, “Monica and the kids.”

Realization dawned over Spencer’s face, “Oh,” he breathed. It didn’t surprise you that Spencer had conflicting feelings about Stephen’s death, given that he hadn’t known him that well prior to his arrest, but he and his family had grown close to you in your husband’s absence.

You nodded, “There’s a meal train thing going on for them, so I was going to make some stuff and drop it there later.” Tentatively, you smoothed Spencer’s hair back, needing something to do with your hands, “Maya used to babysit a lot when I needed extra hands. I just want to feel like I’m returning the favor.”

“Can I come with you?” Spencer asked, tilting his head back to look up at you.

Smiling softly at him, you answered, “Of course.” You sniffled, “If we time it right, we could pick Nell up from school at the end of the day.”

He squeezed your hip comfortingly, “I love you.”

You leaned down and kissed him again, “I love you too.”

The chattering woke you up, Finn in his crib talking to himself as you glared at the alarm clock. It was just past three in the morning, and the second thing you noticed was that you were alone in your bed.

You sat up in a panic, worried you had dreamt the past few weeks until your eyes found Spencer’s watch sitting on his nightstand. Rubbing your eyes, you dragged yourself out of bed before getting Finn from his crib, taking his sleep sack off to make him easier to hold, “Hey,” you whispered, “Let’s go find daddy.”

It didn’t take you long, Spencer was sitting on the floor in the hallway, his knees bent to his chest as he looked into Nell’s room, her space nightlight providing a soft glow into the hallway.

“If you move to the left about a foot, you can see both of them at the same time,” you informed him.

He listened, shifting over so that he could see Eleanor and Olivia at the same time, both of them sleeping peacefully in their beds. Spencer looked up at you, “Why do you know that?”

You slid down the wall, taking a seat next to him and settling Finn lengthwise along your thighs, “At the beginning of March, Nell brought home a virus from school and gave it to Liv, and then one of them gave it to Finn. So, I’d sit out here in the hallway and watch the girls with Finny in my lap,” you told him, leaning your head on his shoulder. “Just so I’d be nearby if any of them needed anything,” you kept your voice at a whisper, rocking your legs in hopes that it would soothe Finn back to sleep.

Spencer didn’t respond for a moment, thinking through what you had said before finally speaking up, “No one told me they’d been sick.”

Humming, you smoothed the baby’s hair back, keeping it out of his face, “I didn’t tell anyone.” To this day, no one else knew that you had juggled three sick kids at once, “I lied to JJ and told her that I was keeping Nell home for a few days, and she didn’t push for more information.” No one had pushed you for anything in the past three months.

“Why didn’t you ask for help?” Spencer asked, leaning his head on yours and resting a hand on your knee.

You didn’t want to, quite honestly. You hadn’t wanted to have to call your mom or anyone from the BAU when you needed help because it felt like an admission of sorts. Admitting that Spencer was gone long-term and that you were a solo parent. “I don’t know,” you lied, “I felt like I had something to prove to the world.”

Spencer swallowed thickly next to you, “Did it work?”

Shaking your head, you sighed a breath of relief at his presence, “No.”

He was quiet for a while, likely wallowing in a pit of guilt that he had been constructing for weeks, “We should get him back to bed.”

“Spence?” You whispered, closing your eyes and listening to the sounds of your quiet house, “Can we just stay like this for a little while?”

Humming a confirmation, Spencer placed a gentle kiss on the crown of your head, leaving his hand resting on your knee while the two of you remained in the hallway, enjoying each other’s company.

“We should’ve done cupcakes,” you said mournfully, turning on the oven light to see that there was something very off about the cake you’d put in the oven.

Spencer hummed, looking at the recipe again to see if there was something you had missed, “Why didn’t we do cupcakes?”

You huffed, “The Pinterest photo I found was of a cake.” It was a perfect cake, complete with a purple graduation cap made out of fondant that you could put on the top. The only problem was you had severely overestimated your baking abilities.

“So,” Spencer started, “It’s your fault.”

Scoffing, you tapped his chest with a silicone spatula, “It’s the fault of whoever posted the original photo!”

Spencer smiled at you, a dopey look in his eyes despite it being one in the morning. “We should’ve asked Penelope to do the cake,” he told you, flipping over the recipe you had printed out.

“We can make a cake,” you retorted, you were throwing a very small party for Nell’s last day of kindergarten—the first time you’ve invited a group over since Spencer was arrested. “You have three PhDs and you don’t think you can bake a cake?”

He raised his eyebrows at you, “This might come as a surprise to you, but none of my coursework ever involved baking.”

You grinned at him, “That does surprise me, it’s basically chemistry,” you challenged.

Spencer rolled his eyes, “Okay, come here,” he said, pulling you into his arms by the fabric of your t-shirt.

Realization fell over you as you scrambled to get away, “No! You’re gonna put frosting on my nose again.” It would be his second offense of the evening.

He followed you into the living room where you tripped over a toy truck, causing you to fall to the ground. When he offered a hand to help you up, you tugged him to the floor, causing one of the balloons that you had previously blown up to pop.

You covered your mouth to muffle your giggles, waiting to see if the noise had woken any of the kids up.

The kids were all so happy to have Spencer back, but your stomach twisted at the realization that this was the first night you’d really felt like you had Spencer back. You loved the kids, but you haven’t had a moment without them since February.

“Hey,” you said to Spencer, rolling over and flinging a balloon at him for good measure.

Carefully, you rested your chin on his chest, staring at him while he tried to calm his own laughter, “Hi,” he said back, ruffling your hair affectionately.

You took a deep breath before speaking up again, “I missed you.”

You hadn’t said it yet. You’d developed some misconstrued fear of making him feel guilty if you’d told him just how much you missed him, but it was the truth. You missed him. He smiled softly down at you, almost as if he had been waiting for you to say the words. “I missed you too,” he whispered.

Slowly, you lifted yourself up and pressed your lips to his, kissing him. It was more than any of the quick pecks you’d shared in the last few weeks, it was real. His hands dug into your waist as if he was afraid you were going to disappear, but you stayed there. You stayed with him, and you always would.

Up until the timer for the cake went off, your phone buzzing in your pocket when you finally pulled away. Breathing heavily, Spencer asked, “Is it too late to ask Penelope to do the cake?”

[melzula]

well since requests are open i wanted to request a zuko fic?

zuko x waterbender reader in which someone from team avatar walks in on them kissing?

i feel like it’d be funny idk lol 😂

a/n: i love this trope it’s so funny. also it’s like subtly mentioned reader is a water bender since i didn’t wanna just shove it in there awkwardly. anyway hope you enjoy!

summary: a private moment between you and your boyfriend is interrupted by your unsuspecting friends

“Are you sure no one saw you come in here?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” Zuko says with a huff after closing the flaps of your tent. “You know, I’m starting to think you’re embarrassed to be seen with me.”

“You know that’s not true,” you argue with a frown. “I just enjoy having some privacy. I know those guys are going to make a big deal about us being together, and I just want to enjoy our relationship without having to deal with any prying eyes.”

“I know,” he admits with a sigh. “I’m just tired of sneaking around. Do you know how difficult it is not to kiss you or check on you after a fight with my sister? It’s torture.”

“It’s just until the war is over. There’s a lot at stake right now, and it would be a weird time to come clean. It’ll be over before you know it.”

“I hope you’re right,” Zuko murmurs with a frown, one that immediately melts away at the feel of your arms wrapping around his midsection. It’s hard to be upset when you’re smiling up at him with the purest look of adoration in your eyes. Despite everything, all of his flaws and mistakes and cruelty, you love him, and it fuels the warmth inside of his heart knowing he has someone like you. Maybe he would have joined the Avatar and his friends sooner if he knew it would lead him to you.

“At least we’re finally alone,” he notes with a faint smile before leaning down to press his lips against your own in a long awaited kiss. He hasn’t been able to give or receive affection all day, and it isn’t until now with your chest pressed against his own that he’s finally able to truly feel relaxed.

Unfortunately, you’re both too engrossed in each other to notice the rustling of your tent flaps as Sokka and Toph let themselves in without a second thought.

“Hey, y/n, Toph and I are gonna head into town, do you want to- oh, gross!” He cries after catching Zuko and yourself mid lip lock.

You both jump at the intrusion, knocking your head together on accident and groaning in unison at the impact.

“Sokka!” You cry out in embarrassment. “Monkey feathers, don’t you knock?!”

“It’s a tent! There is no knocking!” He yells back defensively, equally as upset as you are. “I can’t believe you guys were kissing!”

“We weren’t kissing,” Zuko argues, his face red with embarrassment. “We were… hugging… with our… mouths?”

“Oh, spirits,” you groan, your palm hitting your forehead in embarrassment at Zuko’s horrible attempt at lying. For a Prince, he has a terrible way with words. You’d think all that time spent with his Uncle would make his vocabulary more eloquent.

“If Toph could see she’d be very upset right now!” Sokka scolds, but the girl beside him simply shrugs.

“Actually, this works out great for me. Katara owes me five gold pieces now,” she says with a grin.

“You guys knew they were dating and didn’t tell me?!” The water tribe boy says in offense.

“I had a hunch, but Katara disagreed, so we made a bet.”

“Enough already! This is mortifying enough as it is,” you groan impatiently. “Sokka, we’ll talk about this later. For now, I need both of you out!”

After getting the two to leave the tent, you shut it closed with an irritated sigh. You’re absolutely humiliated, and you don’t think you can show your face to your friends ever again.

“So much for keeping it a secret,” the fire bender mutters.

“You,” you say with an accusatory finger pointed at the Prince, “need to learn how to lie better.”

“I know,” he admits meekly, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. Sighing, you open your water pouch and tend to the growing bump on his head from your previous collision. You can’t stay mad at him when he looks so flustered and sweet, so instead you merely throw your arms around his neck and pull him back in for another kiss.

You can focus on coming clean later. For now, you just want to enjoy your moment of peace with the boy you love.

| zuko tags: @thebluelcdy @royahllty @the-firebender-girl @ilovespideyyy @yiyibetch @eridanuswave @lammello @a-monsters-love @knaite-solo @taeeemin @lora21

[rhaeheartzsquirrelz]

۶ৎ Bows and Blows ۶ৎ

Sevika x Female Reader

Contains: Sex: strap-on, deep throat, thumb sucking, hair pulling, rope play but with bows, and ass slapping.

A/N: Took sm pills, im NOT staying sick. This is the second time, all bc my fuckass friend took a sip of my drink. FUCK THISSSSSS!!! Also this isn’t proofread!!!

𓊆ྀི❤︎𓊇ྀི

Her eyes stared down at your swollen lips as you sucked on her large thumb. Your tongue felt every curve of her finger as she, herself, felt around your pretty mouth. With her dark lips curled into a smirk, Sevika’s mech hand gripped tightly onto your hair as she slid further into your mouth. She made sure your eyes watered when she slid to the back of your mouth to feel around. You held back a gag before she pulled out.

You could barely take her thumb.

“Don’t think you can handle a strap, baby.” A soft scoff left her lips as your girlfriend brushed back your disheveled hair, she liked keeping you full; mouth or cunt, she had to have something in you. “I can handle it..” You, swallowing another gag, look up at her with teary eyes. Everything about her was pulling, especially the way she gently tugged onto your hair again. You would do anything she asked you to, even let her mouth fuck you.

“Can you now?”

You were sat on the edge of the bed, arms tightly tied behind you with the use of ribbons. Sevika had made sure to tie them into perfectly pretty bows as you demanded so. “We’ll see if you can, doll.” With a pull of your head, your girlfriend rested the tip of her strap on your lips before running it along your moistened skin. “Open wide for me, sweet thing.” And you obediently did as she said. Opening your mouth, you held back a gag as she immediately bucked her cock to the back of your your throat. A sinister smirk played on her lips as she watched you struggle with taking her thick strap.

“You got it, baby.” You did your best in letting her fuck your throat, each thrust was harder to swallow than the one that came before. Your eyes watering, you stay open for your girlfriend’s pleasure. Sevika was enjoying seeing your flushed face, it brought her a sense of thrill to the way you were so damn obedient. You did whatever she said, desperate for her approval or not it made her feel powerful.

All you could really do was take it. Hands curled into a fist, eyes tightly shut, and breathing heavy you patiently wait to actually be fucked. Sure, you liked the way your girlfriend looked down at you whenever you had her thumb in your mouth but you liked it so much more when she’d actually hit the spot that got you writhing. Your cunt was a pulsing mess, it was screaming to be acknowledged, to be touched.

After a few good thrusts, your girlfriend was satisfied with your wet and red cheeks. Sevika pulled out of your mouth and watched as you coughed, it was a sight she’d never get enough of. “You did good, baby..” with a deep breather you let your girlfriend shift you on the bed. She wasn’t done with you just yet. On your knees, with your ass up, and your face burried into the pillows, she couldn’t keep herself from spreading your folds apart to see just how slick you were; and of course she’d point it out. “All wet and ready for me, how cute.” She was growing cocky at how good of a listener you were, how you never complained and took her without a second thought.

With a press on your entrance, Sevika gave your ass a rough slap— which you whined at— before gripping onto your tied hands with her mech hand. “You gonna take it like a good girl?” Tone all playful, your girlfriend tilted her head to get a better look at the way your cunt fit perfectly around her tip. It was as if you were meant for it. “Mm-hm, I will, Vika.” Voice shaky, you prepare yourself for the night of your life. To be fucked for your good behavior.

With a gasp leaving your lips, you feel your insides squish against your girlfriend’s cock. She’d went hard and deep, and she wouldn’t stop. She gave no warning and pounded in and out, giving you no time to react. “Look at you, all pretty and tired up.” Her words were gruffed out from the excitement you gave her. The room was full of your moans, your girlfriend’s grunting, the contact between her cock and your pussy, and the squelching of your wetness. It was already too much to handle and it had only been a good minute. Your walls were closing and you were sure you couldn’t last long; even though you wanted to keep feeling the warmth pool in your core.

Sevika’s grip on the ribbon tied around your wrists was tight, it even helped keep her pace steady and strong. She was practically blowing her cock inside of you. With the view of your backside, your girlfriend silently admired you. Your hair, the way it sat perfectly on your back, and your moans that turned her on furthermore. They were sweet and damn hot. “You’re.. damn good for me.” Slapping your ass a few hard times, she increased her speed and fucked you until your moans were desperate pleads. “Vika! Shittt, I can’t— I can’t go on!..” it was hard to keep up with the overwhelming pleasure jolting around your body, from your pussy to your brain it was too good to be real. “Cum on it, doll.” Her smirked out demand, she wanted it messy.

And messy was what you gave her.

Head dropping, mind hazy, you let your orgasm come. Whimpering into the pillows, you cum all over her cock that was dug deep into your pussy. She didn’t pull out, nor did Sevika want to. Your cum was practically dripping off her strap, and she liked how slick it now looked. Your walls clenched around your girlfriend as you shuddered, feeling every bit of the orgasm Sevika had provided. The feeling was unbearably good, so much so that it could drive you wild.

Pulling out, your girlfriend ran her finger over your cunt before licking your cum off.

“Sweet as ever.”

[pencil-n-pen]

I’M STILL TRYING EVERYTHING

⋆° 𐙚 ₊🧦☕🧸₊°⋆ ೀ₊°⋆

previous | kofi | masterlist

post prison!spencer reid x fem!reader

₊ ⊹

I'm still trying everything to keep you looking at me.

-mirrorball, taylor swift

₊ ⊹

summary: you’ve never had a date or a relationship that either didn’t work out or end in disaster. now that you have spencer, you’re determined not to let it happen again

cw: referenced bad past relationships, very very vaguely referenced past domestic abuse that honestly could be taken a different way, referenced child abuse (readers parents are STILL not it) again this is a criminal minds fic so references to graphic violence

tags/tropes: hurt/comfort (do i even need to say this? you all know who i am) insecurity, like one line of misogyny and it’s in the past and not brought up again, spencer being soft n worried, HEALTHY COMMUNICATION, spencer is just as gone for reader as she is for him honestly he's just a sap

a/n: back by popular demand !! seriously guys, you have no idea how much the support and comments and reblogs and asks means to me 🥹 the overwhelming amount of love for the first fic made me so happy when people started asking about a sequel i knew i had to !!

read the crossword on the collage for a surprise :)

this one goes out to all my girlies who’ve ever felt like they needed to be less in order to get a boyfriend or keep one. we’ll have our soft love just the way it was meant to be

⋆⭒˚.⋆

Spencer is a really good boyfriend.

Like… a really good boyfriend. You’re not sure if this is how having a real boyfriend is or if Spencer is just like this.

He’s so good to you. He’s just so- so him. You can’t explain it. Can’t put it into words.

He’s very patient with you. You’ve never explicitly stated it, but he’s picked up on your previous relationship experience- or more accurately, your lack thereof. The morning after you’d gone home with him, night consisting of nothing but easy sleep and warmth, he’d asked you out for real. Asked you if you’d go on a date with him, and you’d agreed, a giddy smile fixed firmly on your face.

But you still worry.

All it takes it one conversation with your parents to push things over the edge.

“Yes, dad. He’s very good to me.”

A laugh crackles over the line. “I tell you, your mother and I never thought we’d see the day.”

The words twinge uncomfortably in your chest. “Hey, I’m not that bad. I’ve just been focused.”

“More like uptight.”

“Dad—“

“You know, you still haven’t come out to visit your poor old parents since getting this so-called cushy job. And now you’ve got this boyfriend. You’re too young to settle down. Don’t you think we should meet him?”

Sometimes conversations turn so quickly they leave you stranded— scrambling to pick up pieces of what you thought was going to happen and piece them together to make something new. Something for the new route the conversation has taken.

You couldn’t hold back your sigh if you tried. “We haven’t been dating for that long dad, I don’t want to spring this on him—“

“Sweetie, if we don’t meet him now, why might never meet him. Who knows how long he’s gonna stick around?”

(Sometimes, in moments like these, for just a split second, you wonder how a father could say something like that, to his daughter. You wonder why, wonder what you did wrong. And then, you imagine Hotch saying those same things, and you can’t, and it almost makes you feel a little better.)

Your blood runs cold. “What could you possibly mean by that?”

“Well, you know how things have ended in the past. I’m just saying I’d like to meet him before he’s gone."

You don't dignify his words with a response.

"Come on, honey. I'm just joking with you."

"It's not funny."

"Don't be like that--"

"Goodbye."

You hang up, snapping the phone shut with a sigh.

The older you've gotten, the more conversations with your parents end up like this. You suppose it's the way you 'wasted your potential' or 'never made something of yourself.' They've always held resentment ever since you decided to become an agent. So you know not to take what they say to heart, because their words only come from a place of disappointment and displeasure. It's not a reflection of who you really are or what you've really accomplished.

Or at least, that's what Hotch told you when he'd overheard one of your phone calls. It meant more than you'd let on.

But your Dad's words linger in your head. They're irritating and sharp where they claw around in your head because they're true.

You can count on one hand the amount of romantic endeavors you've had. And from those, they all ended horribly. Your parents lost sympathy towards the end of your attempts, muttered words of needing to try harder to keep them, that you should be satisfied that somebody wanted you at all, that you should try to be less... you.

Try to be less... you, dear. The books and the facts- nobody wants those. Put some more effort into your appearance. Otherwise you'll end up all alone.

You'd tried to take their advice, of course. But the relationships that were fathered your parents direction were not loving. There was nothing soft or gentle or warm about them. You'd never felt more unlovable.

So when the incident with the shooter happened and you were lying on the lecture hall floor, blood coloring the carpet deep scarlet, you'd vowed to never let it happen again. That you were going to use your intellect and wit and passion for what you wanted to do- you'd promised yourself that if you survived, you would try to make your life your own, one step at a time.

This, of course, is easier said than done.

It's easy enough to refuse to let yourself get involved with men who are clearly only interested in your for your badge or your body --though the latter happens so rarely you really don't have to worry about it-- because you don't care about them. They're blips on your radar.

But Spencer? Sweet, sweet Spencer who makes you hot-cocoa and binge watches Doctor Who with you, even the later seasons, which you know he doesn't like as much but you love. Spencer who always has a grounding touch to offer, or a quiet command when you need him. Spencer who puts you first.

But there's a limit to these things, right? As far as you've seen, romantic relationship's are transactional, or conditional. Sometimes both. He can't just... keep doing this forever. It's too kind. Too sweet. It'll come to an end soon. Like, like the honeymoon era in early relationships. That's all it is. Plus, he's older than you, and you have no illusions about your unavoidable impulsiveness and naivety.

You've been told that your standards are too high before. "Struck by the hopeless romantic's arrow," your brother had said once, back when you were still in school, crying over a boy who'd told you that he didn't want to date you because you were too smart for a girl.

"That's not being hopeless romantic. There's no such thing as being too smart for a girl."

"There isn't," He'd amended, "But you're not going to have an easy time finding a guy. You of all people can't really afford to be picky."

He'd been right, in the end. So you're just... having a hard time figuring out how genuine Spencer's actions are. Guy's don't really act all romantic in the context of you. You've been told your whole life to be happy with what you get, and what you've had in the past is decidedly not lining up with how Spencer treats you.

It's a nasty little thing in your ear. Is it real? Does it matter as much to him?

When is it all going to end?

--

Rossi make's an offhand comment during a mission that you talk a lot when you're excited about the subject at hand.

JJ agrees. "It's a little unnerving when the subject is the bruising patterns of strangulation."

That little voice comes back.

Too much too much too much too much too much--

"It's useful," You protest, mouth dry.

JJ snorts, "I'm not sure about that. We need to know that the victim was strangled, not what happens to the body during blunt-force asphyxiation."

You'd grown quiet then, let the chatter and musings of the rest of the team wash over you.

Is that something Spencer finds annoying? You have always found things other's view morbid and disturbing fascinating. But JJ is right. No one wants to hear about that.

You brush the comment off, square your shoulders, get back on with the case.

Be better. Try harder.

You don't seen the furrow of Spencer's brows from where he's been watching you, or the quick look he shares with Hotch.

--

You'd never really thought about how clingy you can be before Emily makes an offhand comment about it while the two of you wait in line at a coffee shop. There's a couple in front of you, the girl all over her partner, kissing and giggling and hugging them close.

"Ugh," Emily groans once the two get their coffee and move on. "I could never understand the appeal of all that. I mean doesn't it feel stifling?"

A little stab of ice in your stomach.

"I don't know. I think it's nice."

"No, thank you. If I were her partner, I'd feel smothered."

You think about that conversation every time you take Spencer's hand or lean into his simple touches. They're invasive little things, the thoughts. It's not hard to pull back on all the touching. You never really ask for them in the first place- always too nervous to come off clingy. But you suppose just taking, taking, taking is just the same.

A quick shake of your head, not leaning in, a quiet "I'm fine." and that little nagging fear of smothering begins to quiet. It doesn't leave, but it does get quieter. For a little while, at least.

--

The hard part is trying to be less without noticeably being less. Spencer's smart- and he's a profiler. If you pull back too much too quickly, he'll notice, and you don't want to talk about this yet. You just need to make sure he'll stay. That things won't—

That you won't find out too late that you don't mean as much to him as he does to you.

That's the kind of thing that can't happen again. But ascertaining his true feelings and desires is difficult, because this is all kind's of new territory for you. You want to believe it's real. You really, really want to believe it's real.

But it's never been real before, so why would it be real now?

--

You've asked around (subtly and carefully, of course) about the type of girl Spencer's dated or drifted towards in the past. You know he said he wanted something soft and sweet, but you can't help but think that you're not really either, nor are you in line with his type. All things considered, you're a mess. Something tired-eyed and hollow is how you feel most days. Some sort of creature perhaps? You're honestly not sure what you are. You've spent your entire life being singled out or otherwise othered- always too smart or too different or too weird or too much or too loud or too quiet or too shy or too, too, too. Always too something. You have never been called soft or sweet. In a demeaning way, sure, but never with the quiet reverence that Spencer said it with that night.

It feels like a balancing act, a bit. Holding all those too much parts so close to your chest with one hand and shoving the ones you think Spencer wants with the other hand.

You could probably drop the one hand. The one holding the bad parts. But you're just not convinced he'll stay. You're not sure that he won't look at them with some form of disgust or pity or something else terrible.

You know the balancing act isn't sustainable— you'll fall eventually, and everything will come crashing down, but until then, you just keep trying. Trying to see if he'll stay, trying to see what to do if he won't. How to ensure he will, if that's something that's possible.

--

The act does not hold up for as long as you hoped it would. It comes crashing down with a glass. Literally.

You and Spencer are in the kitchen on a rare weekend off, cooking and drinking wine and swaying to some little old love song.

It should be perfect, except you're worrying that you look ugly while you're dancing, and you're probably singing off-key, and he maybe wants you to shut up so he can hear the song or dance in peace.

He reaches towards you and you just— your brain shrieks for a moment, all senses going into overdrive and you jerk backward, and your elbow knocks into your wine glass, and it falls, shattering behind you with a deafening crash.

Your entire body tenses, waiting for yelling or sighing or something, because you broke the glass, there's crystalline shards everywhere, the wine red and it looks like blood, maybe it is, maybe you're bleeding because the glass was really close to your foot when it fell but you're not sure because you can't really feel your feet or your fingers or—

"Don't move," Spencer says, voice serious, and tears well in your eyes, because this is when it all ends isn't it? "I don't want you to— honey?"

"Yes?" You croak.

His eyes are swimming with concern as he takes in your hunched shoulders, shallow breaths, and scared expression.

Understanding flickers in his features, and you resist the urge to hold your breath.

"Nothing is going to happen to you because of the glass, okay? Everything is fine. We're fine. I'm not mad. See? I'm not mad. I just don't want you to cut your feet on the glass. I'm going to clean this up and get your slippers, okay?"

"Okay." You breathe, voice hoarse. You wring your hands nervously as he leaves to retrieve the necessary supplies to clean the mess, heart beating so fast and so hard you're shocked you can't see it through your shirt.

He's not mad. He's not mad. You're not in trouble. Your parents aren't here. You're not grounded. You're not in trouble. He's not mad.

You're silent while he cleans, focused on getting your breathing under control while he babbles quietly about the history of glass making and the significance of types of wine glasses. The facts and history wash over you in steady waves, easing the tension in your shoulders bit by bit.

"I didn't think you were going to hit me, Spencer."

He continues cleaning. "It's okay if you did. I would never blame you for that."

"But I don't," You say, suddenly desperate, "I know you wouldn't, I've never been hit, not like that."

He's quiet for a few minutes. "Does this have something to do with how you've been acting recently?"

You freeze. "What do you mean?"

He looks up, leaning back on his knees. Making himself smaller, you realize. He's trying not to scare you again.

"You're dating a profiler. Also, I speak fluent you, and you've been chewing all your hangnails again. You only do that when you're stressed and pretending like you're not."

Your finger's twitch at your sides.

His hands come up slowly, and he rubs the length of your waist and hips. "We don't have to talk about it right now, but I think we should soon. I don't want you hurting all by yourself. You've had enough of that. That's what I'm here for."

He finishes cleaning up the glass, and finishes cooking dinner- he'd assured you he'd turned off all burners when the glass hit the floor, so nothing's burnt.

Once you've both eaten, he steers you towards the couch and wordlessly puts on Doctor Who.

The Pandorica is just about to open when you finally decide that if you don't start talking, you never will.

"My parents think you're going to leave me."

Spencer makes a wounded noise in his throat. "Why do they think that?"

"Because it's happened before. I'm, um. I'm not very good at getting into relationships. Or keeping them."

"But that's not your fault."

You sniff hard, rubbing your face with your sleeve. "It is though, isn't it? At least a little. I know I can be a lot. I know I'm not easy to—"

You cut yourself off, but the words hang in the air anyway; unsaid.

I'm not easy to love.

"Anyway," You say, pushing through the lump in your throat. "I just thought. I don't know. I was worried that you'd get fed up with me."

"No," He whispers, voice raw and full of something a lot heavier than fond. "No, no baby. I like that you're clingy and you ramble when you get excited, because it means that we get to talk about something together."

He shifts on the couch, sitting criss-crossed, ducking his head down to catch your gaze. "You know what else I like?"

You scoot over, mirroring his position. "What?"

"I like that you always know when I need you. Even when I don't think I do, you're there. Because I do need you. This isn't a one-way street."

His words hit you straight in your chest. "Oh."

He smiles, brows a little scrunched, brown eyes a deep pool of fondness and a splash of concern. "Yeah. And I'm thinking you need me a little more than you want to let on."

The seam of your pajama pants suddenly becomes the most interesting thing in the world. Amazing, the wonders of a sewing machine.

"Maybe."

"Mmm," He hums, "So if I need you, don't you think that you're allowed to need me?"

Your fingers pick and twirl a loose thread around. "...Yes?"

A large, firm hand covers your thigh, giving it a quick squeeze. "Yes. Not only are you allowed to need me, I want you to need me. Cause you know how you're always worried about being the best girlfriend? Well, I'm always worried about being the best boyfriend."

That makes you look up. "Really?"

He chuckles again, a little puff of air fanning your face. "Yes, really. I assure you, contrary to your past experiences, this is one of those bare minimum things in a relationship."

"That does not," He continues, immediately catching the brief flicker of doubt and shame on your face, "Mean that it is your fault at all for how you were treated in the past. You wouldn't expect me to suddenly become an expert in veterinary medicine just because I've been to the vet's office a few times, right?"

"When did you go to the vet's—"

"Shh, I'm being a good boyfriend," He holds up a hand, lips quirking up when you can't suppress a tiny giggle, "But seriously. You had no frame of reference, right? And you were being told it was your fault. But it wasn't. You didn't deserve that."

He lets his words hang in the air for a little while and allows you time to process this new information.

"What do I do now?"

"Well," He leans in, brushing his nose against yours, curls tickling your forehead, "You've got a pretty sweet deal here. Just three things. You have to keep letting me need you, let yourself need me, and one last little thing."

"What?"

You're so close your breaths are mingling.

"Let me show you what this is supposed to look like. How a man is supposed to treat a pretty girl. His pretty girl."

"Oh, well," Heat rushes to your cheeks, your stomach doing flip-flops, "That sounds pretty hard. I don't know how I'll hold up."

His hand comes up to hold the side of your face, his thumb sweeping strokes under your eye.

"You say that now, but I know what happens to you when I get romantic. You swoon."

You laugh. "I do not swoon."

"You will."

He leans down, capturing your lips in a soft, gentle kiss. It isn't a kiss-kiss. He's kissing you just to kiss you; just to let you know that he's here, that you have him.

It's sweet and perfect and exactly what you need.

--

Letting yourself need Spencer is marginally easier now that you know he needs you. Now that you know you're not going all in for someone who isn't.

He also starts needing you a bit... louder.

It's late evening, and most people have gone home except you and a couple other members of the team, all still working on paperwork.

Except Spencer, who's decided to drape himself over your shoulders like a cat, his chin resting on your head.

"Don't you have work to do?"

"Either finished it or it can be done later."

You shift your shoulders, smiling at how his grumbles vibrate against your back.

He moves his head, pressing his cheek to your head instead of his chin, heaving a deep sigh.

"Your hair smells good."

"Like what?"

"You're shampoo. Yours always smell better than mine."

You continue to work through your paperwork, Spencer a continuous and solid weight against your back.

"Is this even comfortable for your back at all?"

"Doesn't matter. Need girlfriend time."

He can't see it, but you're sure he knows how hard you blush.

--

Spencer's cooking the two of you a late breakfast in the kitchen of his apartment, hair still all mussed from sleep. He's quite the sight. You can't stop staring.

You're sitting on the counter, still dressed in your pajamas, legs swinging.

"You wanna know something cool?"

"You know it,"

"Butterflies and moths can drink blood and tears. There's nutrients in them. Purple Emperor butterflies are especially known for this. It's called mud-puddling."

"So you're telling me I should make sure I bandage any open wounds before I go to a butterfly house?"

"I guess. I can't imagine they'd be able to drink enough blood to actually cause any damage."

"Maybe we'll have to go to a butterfly house. For research."

"Should we get dinner afterwards?"

"We'll deserve it, you know, for all the hard research we'll have done."

"Hmm. Yes, I suppose so."

--

Spencer's bed is infinitely more comfortable than your bed. You're pretty sure it's a combination of the fact that it's the only thing in the entire world that smells so much like him and the fact that he spent part of his large FBI paycheck on a fancy mattress. Back support is very important to him.

You're doing a little reading before bed, shamelessly sprawled all over him while he does his own reading. You've got a leg hooked over his hips, the other tangled with his legs, and your arms and head pillowed on his chest. You move a little every time he takes a breath, and more than once you've paused in your reading, mesmerized by the feeling.

He shifts under you, setting his book down on his night stand and making himself more comfortable.

"Should I move?"

"No," he says, voice deep and gravelly with sleep. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you flush to him, face pressed to the crook of your neck. He breathes deep, scruffy stubble scratching against your skin. "Like you close. Good for sleep."

Even with the lamp on, and your book in your hand, you fall asleep soon after him.

--

It's an ordinary evening for the two of you. Discarded dishes sit on the coffee table in front of the t.v, neither of you paying them any attention, wrapped up in each other and eyes glued to the screen.

You look up at Spencer who's watching Doctor Who with the focus of a man who's never seen it, even though you know for a fact he's seen it before, several times in fact.

"I want to know the things you like," He'd said simply, the one time you'd asked why he takes your nightly Doctor Who watching so seriously.

And tonight's no different. Tonight, he looks... well, he looks like Spencer. His face illuminated by the TV screen, his hair all mussed from you running your hands through it earlier.

And it just kind of all hits you at once. You know.

"I love you."

He looks down at you, his expression soft and surprised. When your words register, his expression is so sickeningly fond and happy you can't help but lean in, burying your face in his chest. He rubs your back consolingly, then presses a little kiss to the crown of your head.

"I love you too."

⋆⭒˚.⋆

taglist: @topsecret101 @slowdownpal @leeknowpegger @sunbl3achedfly @hiireadstuff @paige0103 @private190104 @beautyb1ade @coraline-jones353 @pleasenter-sandman @sttvrdustt @gluchie @thomasintheshadows @dessamira1001 @bbleeeeh @hufflely-puffly @bippityboppityboob1tch @buggys-space @redxfangirl @liauchiha147 @dreaming-potato @meandyoulollz @jobrosimp

[fushigogo]

cw: semi-public sex, cheating (?), kento with big, BIG HANDS, size difference, sex in photocopier.

thinking about private investigator nanami and how it was hired by your boyfriend to keep an eye on you. he does his job sooo well he pretends to be one of your co-workers.

everytime your boyfriend asked why he was taking so long to get information, he would answer: “she’s a really private person, sir. this is the first time I face something like this.” and he knows is pure bullshit.

how’s this poor thing (you) has to have such an asshole boyfriend?

as the sweetest person you are, you excuse him and tell he’s that way and you can’t change that...

but there’s discomfort in the fact your boyfriend may not be as good as you thought.

and you could realize that by the way nanami cared about every single thing of you. information he would keep away from your jealous boyfriend,

just one touch to your puffy clit and he already knew how to drive you insane, you shudder at the contact of his fingers — thick and large... well, now you notice how imposing it is. you don’t know if it’s because of the small size of the room you’re in, but god... he’s gigantic compared to you.

“shh... we don’t want anyone lurking around here, do we?” he coos at your ear and your moans drown at the palm of his hand.

your face, all flustered, leaving his hand full of saliva with each whine you try to suppress while he’s teasing your sensitive clit and you can feel the aching cock pulsating, fluttering between his pants.

when he places your leg on the edge of the photocopier, he sees your pussy, all exposed, damped in your juices, and then, letting out his length, he fits it perfectly into your sloppy pussy. you open your eyes wide big and immediately placing your tiny hand in your mouth, but fuck, he replaces it with his hand and whilst the other hand is clasping your ass, the other one plays inside your mouth and in the most obscene way, you suck at his fingers with every thrust.

“yeah, you like that, sweetheart.” he also stammers, almost wanting to fall apart.“we’ll keep this secret soo well.”