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inkmonster21 · 3 days ago

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Short n’ Sweet💋

Hugh Jackman x Fem!Sister!Reynolds!Reader

Warnings: SMUT

Part 20

Series Masterlist

Don’t Cry Because It Happened Baby, Cry Because It’s Over

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The phone rang urgently, and Megan's voice rushed and tinged with concern. You could hear the stress in her tone as she spoke as if something was amiss. "Where are you?" she asked, her words hasty and filled with urgency.

You responded, your voice sounding heavy with the weight of your emotions. "On the bus," you replied, your words laced with sadness. The tears streaming down your cheeks remained unseen by the others as you were tucked away in the privacy of your bunk.

Megan's voice held concern as she asked, "Are you crying?" She could probably sense the vulnerability and fragility in your tone, catching the hint of hurt in your voice that betrayed your emotional state.

The phone call suddenly ended, and mere moments later, you could hear the sound of Megan's chunky heeled boots echoing as she hurriedly approached the bus. Megan burst through the door, her concern evident in her urgent movements. She flung open the curtain of your bunk, startling you. The worry and concern etched on her face were palpable as she asked the question, her voice filling the small space, "What happened?"

Another tear slipped from your eye, and you rolled your eyes, trying to compose yourself. With a heavy sigh, you reached for your phone, your fingers trembling as you unlocked it. The screen lit up, and you navigated to TikTok.

As you scrolled, the videos of Debora and Hugh filled your feed, taunting you with their seemingly happy life. The drama channels claimed that their marriage was healed and they had never been happier. Each new image and caption felt like a blow to your already fragile state, and the pain within you intensified.

Megan looked at the screen with a sympathetic frown, her eyes expressing her genuine concern and empathy. Her words carried a blend of sadness and support.

"I'm sorry, girl," she expressed, her voice carrying a gentle tone. She was there for you, offering her presence and understanding in your moment of distress.

You expressed your frustration, tears brimming in your eyes as you spoke with palpable anger and hurt.

"He should be thinking of me! Not taking that vulture out to dinner! But no, he's out there looking fine as hell, holding her instead!" your words tumbled out, your emotions swirling in a chaotic whirlwind. The thought of Hugh being with someone else, looking so well and appearing happy with Debora, ignited a deep sense of jealousy and betrayal.

Despite your emotional turmoil, Megan couldn't help but let out a gentle giggle at your heated remark. It was a bittersweet moment, a brief respite from the heaviness that had settled in the air. Despite the situation, Megan's laughter carried an understanding and a touch of lightheartedness, a small glimmer of humor amidst the emotional chaos.

Megan's tone shifted, and she offered a smile, her words carrying a hint of a devilishly mischievous note.

"You know what we should do?" she asked you, her smile widening, clearly eager to share her idea.

The mischievous glint in her eyes and the smile on her face indicated that she had something in mind, something intended to lift your spirits or perhaps even provide some solace.

"What?" you responded, a hint of curiosity mingling with your sadness, as you looked at her with a glimmer of anticipation.

Megan's words carried a touch of boldness, a suggestion for you to shift your focus from the pain and heartbreak you were experiencing. She proposed a night out with drinks and friends, offering a temporary distraction from the memories of Hugh.

"We should go out," she proposed, her voice filled with determination. "Have some drinks with our friends and maybe, just maybe, you'll see some guy to take your attention away from the guy who convinced everyone he's got claws for hands." With a smirk, she hoped her suggestion would spark a moment of solace and lightness in your troubled heart.

A faint smile tugged at your lips as you considered Megan's suggestion. The thought of going out and having a break from it all seemed both appealing and necessary. Your heart was heavy, and the tension you had been carrying needed a release. Megan's words resonated with you, and the idea of being surrounded by friends and a few drinks felt like a much-needed respite.

With a mix of determination and resignation in your voice, you responded, "Fine," agreeing to her proposal. The word left your lips, and you knew deep down it would be good to step away from the emotional toll you had been carrying, even if only for a night.

Megan wasted no time in making the calls, reaching out to your close friends one by one. Her enthusiasm and determination were evident in her voice as she demanded a drama-free night. As expected, they were happy to come together and support you. In response, your friends responded positively, eager to join in and contribute to making the night a memorable one.

You slipped into your black dress, the fabric hugging your form, and paired it with matching chunky heels. The Versace sunglasses and bag added a touch of class and elegance to your outfit. You glanced at yourself in the mirror, making sure everything was in place, and adjusted your sunglasses, feeling ready to leave the drama and heartache behind for just one night.

You and your friends gathered together in the rooftop bar to enjoy dinner. The waiter led you all to the reserved section, offering you a space to enjoy the evening. The ambiance, lighting, and beautiful views created a comfortable atmosphere, perfect for a night out with good company to distract you from your troubles.

Megan leaned in with her wine glass, a mischievous glint in her eyes. She announced cheerfully, "TikTok time, everyone!"

You positioned yourself at the bar, a drink in hand, as Megan prepared to film you. She counted down, "Three, two, one..."

The music started, and a smile tugged at your lips as you waited for the cue. Once the music began, you turned to the camera and lip-synced to the lyrics, infusing it with emotion. As you sang, "Never waste Friday night on a first date," your words held a blend of resilience and determination, a subtle hint of past pain peeking through.

Megan shifted her camera's focus to another friend who joined in on the TikTok fun. With a playful smile on her face, she declared, "But there I was, with my hair straight!" The words carried a hint of sarcasm and humor, adding a touch of lightness and relatability to their collaborative TikTok.

Megan took the spotlight, turning the camera on herself and speaking with conviction. "So I take him to his bar, and this man wouldn't dance, wouldn't drink," she said, her voice filled with theatrical flair. "He didn't ask a single question!" Her words echoed with a mix of disappointment and disbelief, as she shared her experience in a way that was both relatable and entertaining.

Your fourth friend joined in, their voice filled with humor and wit. They chimed in, "And he was wearing these fugly jeans!" Their contribution added a touch of laughter to TikTok, a lighthearted moment that brought a smile to the group's faces.

The camera panned back to you, and you smirked confidently, your voice filled with a mix of sass and self-assurance. "It doesn't matter though. He doesn't have what it takes to be with a girl like me," you stated, your words carrying a sense of self-empowerment and resilience. You delivered the line with a hint of defiance and pride, the words serving as a reminder that you knew your worth.

As you spent time with your friends, laughing, sipping your drinks, and sharing stories, the warmth of their company seemed to wash away the heaviness weighing on you. The TikTok video, with your friend's added humor and your confident delivery, had been a fun and light-hearted distraction from the pain you had felt. It was a reminder that you had people in your life who cared for you and would be there to lift your spirits.

As you sit on the couch of the bus in the early hours of the morning, your mind couldn't help but drift towards Hugh. The images of him with Debora, his happiness, and their newfound closeness lingered in your thoughts, casting a shadow on your otherwise lighter mood. Memories of the TikTok video and the laughter with your friends couldn't completely dispel the pang of jealousy and bittersweet nostalgia that tugged at your heart. You sigh, feeling the weight of the past creep back into your mind as you lay on the couch, the darkness of the night only magnifying the ache within.

With a heavy heart, you reached for your notebook, seeking solace in the words you poured onto the pages. The act of writing felt like a release, allowing you to channel your emotions into something tangible, a means of expressing the thoughts and feelings that had been building inside you. As you began to write, the words flowed out effortlessly, as if they were a direct connection to your heart and soul. The song you were crafting served as a catharsis, a way to confront the lingering memories of Hugh and the pain that accompanied them.

With a melancholic smile, you closed the notebook, the words you had written serving as a bittersweet reminder of your emotions. As the bus rolled along the road, eventually lulling you into slumber, your mind found some solace in the temporary escape sleep provided. Your thoughts and feelings temporarily faded into the background as you slipped into a restful slumber.

The morning arrived early, and the day's schedule kicked into gear. You were ushered into the venue, and the hustle and bustle of the preparations began. You joined the sound engineers and crew members in checking the sounds and rehearsing. It was a chaotic yet exhilarating environment, with the hum of activity filling the air as everyone prepared for the evening's performance. The familiar routine and the focus on the performance served as a distraction from the tumultuous emotions you had been grappling with.

You approached the band with a warm smile, excitement, and anticipation evident in your voice.

"Hey, can I work with you guys on a new number?"

The band members turned to you, curious expressions on their faces. They exchanged glances, intrigued by your sudden request.

"Sure!" they agreed, their enthusiasm clear in their voices. "What do you have in mind?"

With anticipation, you presented your new song idea to the band, sharing the lyrics and the concept in your mind. As you spoke, the band members listened with interest, their expressions showing that they were intrigued and curious to hear the new direction you wanted to take.

"It's a slow, sorrowful tune," you told them, your voice conveying the emotional depth you hoped to capture in the song. "I think it's different from what we've done before, but it feels necessary. What do you think?"

The band members beamed with enthusiasm, their expressions lighting up at the idea of working on a new song.

"I love it!" they exclaimed, their excitement palpable. "Anything for you!" Their support and enthusiasm filled you with gratitude. They were ready to collaborate and create something special together, ready to bring your vision to life on stage. It was a glimmer of joy and excitement amidst the emotional turmoil you had been experiencing.

The whirlwind of the day flew by, each task ticking off on your mental checklist. Lunch, hair, makeup, and now, you stood in your costume, the final touch before the show began. As you looked at yourself in the mirror, the butterflies in your stomach fluttered with anticipation. The day had flown by, and it felt like the moment had come far too soon. The countdown to the show had begun.

Despite having performed the show countless times, the pre-concert nerves persisted, a subtle undercurrent of anticipation and excitement coursing through your veins. Every time you stepped onto the stage, the familiar mix of adrenaline and nervousness washed over you. It was a strange paradox, knowing deep down that you could deliver a flawless performance, yet always experiencing that flutter of butterflies before the show began.

With a burst of energy, you ran out onto the stage, the roar of the crowd washing over you like a wave. The screams and cheers filled your ears, their collective energy fueling your own. The anticipation and nerves dissolved, replaced by a rush of adrenaline and a sense of purpose. The stage lights shone bright, illuminating your presence as you prepared to captivate the audience.

As the show progressed, the setlist unfolded, and with each song, the crowd roared in unison, their voices blending together in a symphony of adulation. It was a tangible testament to the connection you shared with your fans, a bond forged through your music that filled the air with emotion. Your heart swelled with gratitude as their voices echoed throughout the venue, their passion and enthusiasm fueling your performance even further.

With a shift in tone, you addressed the audience, your voice carrying a hint of sincerity and anticipation.

"Okay, let's get real for a second. Some hot tea for you," you shared with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. The crowd's attention was fully invested, eager to hear the "tea" you were about to share. A collective cheer went through the crowd as you settled onto the couch, the plush fabric beneath you. You met the audience's eyes, a faint smile playing on your lips despite the sadness in your voice.

"You all know I was dating this guy," you began, the crowd's collective response echoing through the venue. You paused momentarily. "Good things end all the time, right?" you continued, a hint of resignation and pain lacing your words.

The gentle, melancholic tune filled the air, and your voice carried the weight of heartache and longing as you sang, "Don't smile because it happened, baby, cry because it's over." Your words were tinged with a raw vulnerability, your voice carrying the weight of the pain you felt. You paused, a moment of hesitation before delivering the next line.

"You're supposed to think about me every time you hold her," you sang, your voice filled with a mixture of sadness and hope. Each syllable was a dagger, a reminder of the love lost and the memories that lingered.

As you sang, the words poured out of you, the raw emotions seeping through. Your voice trembled with vulnerability, the tears cascading down your cheeks, a physical manifestation of the heartache you felt. The song became a catharsis, a way to release the pent-up pain you had been carrying. Each note was infused with an aching honesty that resonated with the depth of your emotions.

Tears continued to stream down your face as you poured your heart into the words, your voice filled with a mix of sorrow, longing, and a hint of defiance. The raw emotion in your voice was palpable, as the lyrics spilled out in a heart-wrenching plea.

"I want you to miss me," you sang, the words a combination of an aching plea and a subtle act of desperation.

Hugh sat in the darkness of this living room and listened intently as you sang the new song, the lyrics resonating deep within him. He couldn't help but seek out the video, the curiosity and longing pulling him towards the performance. Each word you sang felt like a direct stab to his heart, the lyrics mirroring his pain and remorse. He knew he shouldn't be watching, but he couldn't tear himself away either.

Hugh picked up on the glimmer of hope within your words, the underlying emotions beneath the pain. He recognized that you still wanted him, that you still desired him to think about you. The realization sent a jolt through his chest, a glimmer of hope and vulnerability that echoed within him. The connection you had shared still lingered, and it both comforted and tortured him in equal measure.

It was at that exact moment Hugh began formulating a plan of sorts, determined to speak with Debora and convince her that they shouldn't be together. The thought echoed in his mind, reminding him of the reasons that had led to their divorce in the first place. He was resolute, determined to communicate his feelings and make her understand the unhealthy nature of their relationship.

Hugh's voice was serious, his tone heavy with the weight of emotions as he spoke.

"I need to speak with you," he said as Debora walked through the door, his words filled with a sense of urgency and importance. He stood there, waiting for her to acknowledge him, to give him a chance to express what he needed to say.

Hugh watched as Debora held up her hand, “hold on,” her focus on her phone call rather than on him. Hugh's voice was firm, his tone leaving no room for misunderstanding. “This is important," he repeated, his words carrying a sense of urgency and insistence. He wanted her to understand the significance of what he needed to discuss, the weight of the matter that couldn't be ignored or brushed aside.

Debora retorted, her voice tinged with attitude and a sense of frustration.

"So is this," she hissed, dismissively rolling her eyes. Her response was defensive, indicating that she was unwilling to prioritize Hugh's concerns and preferred to focus on her phone call instead.

Hugh's patience had reached its limit, and his annoyance and distaste were evident in his gaze. His words came out bluntly, leaving no room for ambiguity.

"This isn't working, Debora. I want you to move out," he stated firmly, his tone holding a mixture of frustration and determination.

Debora looked at Hugh with a mix of disbelief and frustration, the glare in her eyes evident. She ended her phone call and turned her attention to him fully, her eyes narrowing. She responded, her voice filled with defensiveness, "What did you just say?"

Hugh's gaze met hers, his determination evident in the way he held her gaze. He repeated his words, his voice holding a sense of resoluteness.

"I said I want you to move out," he said calmly yet firmly, not backing down from his stance.

Debora's response was immediate, her voice rising with emotion.

"You want me to move out?? After everything we've been through? After all the good times we had?" she retorted, her tone defensive and incredulous. The conversation was heating up quickly, as the underlying tension between them intensified.

Hugh's expression turned more cynical, and his voice carried a hint of sarcasm.

"What good times?" he retorted, his words dripping with sarcasm. "When were those good times, Debora? Because I can't recall any lately."

Hugh's voice was strained with frustration, and his words came out in a blunt, direct tone.

"Just... pack your things please, and get the f*** out," he said, his words cutting through the air with a mix of exhaustion and exasperation. He was at the end of his patience, and the tension between them had reached a boiling point.

Debora responded with an angry huff, her words filled with frustration and resentment.

"Fine! Fine!" she spat, her tone seething. She stormed down the hallway, cursing Hugh to the core, promising to make his life miserable. "You think you're struggling now? Just wait until I'm done with you!" Her threat hung in the air, adding to the already tense atmosphere.

Hugh didn't bother to respond, his gaze steady and his determination unwavering. He simply turned away, walking out the door and firmly shutting it behind him. The echo of the door closing resonated, symbolizing the end of the intense exchange.

Hugh stepped outside, the fresh air greeting him as he strolled through the streets, letting his thoughts wander. The weight of the conversation with Debora lingered in his mind, and he needed some space to clear his head. The cool breeze and the rhythm of his steps provided a temporary respite from the tumultuous emotions.

Despite the ongoing tension and frustration with Debora, Hugh found a sense of lightness within him as he continued walking. The momentary escape from their tumultuous relationship and the fresh air had lifted a weight that he hadn't realized had been weighing him down. It was as if his steps were carrying him away from the chaos, bringing a glimmer of clarity amid the emotional turmoil.

As Hugh walked, his thoughts wandered to you, the memories of your relationship and the thoughts of your well-being taking root in his mind. He couldn't help but wonder if you were safe if you were enjoying your tour, and if you were managing to find some peace amidst the chaos. These thoughts created a strange mix of concern and curiosity, the image of you never completely leaving his mind.

The thought of contacting you crossed Hugh's mind, a mix of longing and hesitation in his heart. He longed to reach out, to hear your voice, to reconnect with the passionate relationship you shared. However, there was also a sense of uncertainty. He doubted if you would even answer his call, considering the nature of your last encounter.

Hugh's mind continued to wander, his thoughts shifting from you to Debora. He couldn't help but criticize himself for allowing Debora back into his life, for thinking that the vacation would be innocent and free from drama. He cursed himself for being so naive, for not seeing the signs.

Hugh's contemplation was momentarily interrupted by Ryan's cheerful greeting. He looked up to see Ryan approaching, his carefree demeanor contrasting with the heaviness of Hugh's thoughts. The distraction was a welcome reprieve, albeit a temporary one.

As Ryan and Blake approached him, Hugh couldn't help but feel a mixture of gratitude for the distraction but also a sense of internal conflict.

As Hugh engaged in conversation with Ryan, there was an unspoken understanding between them. Ryan didn't bring up the topic of you, and Hugh didn't want to open that can of worms either, even though he couldn't deny the nagging thought that lingered in the back of his mind. Part of him hoped that he could have the chance to reconnect with you, given the chance.

Hugh couldn't help but let curiosity get the better of him. Despite his attempts to push aside thoughts of you, he found himself asking, "How's (y/n)?" The words slipped out of his mouth before he could stop them. He knew he shouldn't be asking, but the question lingered in his mind, and he couldn't help but be curious about your well-being.

Ryan, being aware of your heartbroken state, opted to keep the truth to himself. He knew that you were still carrying the pain of your split from Hugh, that you were pouring your emotions into your music and finding solace in your performances.

“She’s great!” Blake's response was filled with a forced cheerfulness, masking the underlying truth. She knew the depth of your pain, the heartbreak that you were still grappling with. However, she maintained her smile, not wanting to reveal too much to Hugh.

Hugh's response was a mix of conflicting emotions. He forced a smile, trying to push away the thought of you moving on, finding someone better, someone younger. He couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy, which he quickly tried to conceal. His nod was a strained gesture, the smile forced and unnatural.

"That's good...great," he echoed, the words feeling hollow but necessary to maintain the facade. Hugh felt the need to exit, the weight of his emotions becoming too overwhelming. He apologized, making an excuse to leave. "Sorry to keep you two. I'll be on my way," he said, his voice betraying a hint of exhaustion.

Ryan grabbed Hugh's shoulder, his touch a comforting gesture amidst the emotional turmoil. He offered him a supportive smile and added, "Give me a call sometime, bud." Ryan knew his friend was struggling, and the casual invitation was a subtle attempt to let Hugh know he was there for him whenever needed no matter if you were his sister.

With each step, Hugh felt the weight of longing for you weighing heavily on his heart. The memories of your shared moments together replayed in his mind, making the ache even more pronounced. The walk seemed to drag on, his thoughts consumed by the void left by your absence.

In a moment of impulse, Hugh took out his phone and pulled up your number. He stared at it for a moment, his thumb hovering over the call button. Finally, without giving himself time to second-guess himself, he pressed the call button, his heart pounding in his chest.

You were in the midst of the routine process of removing your makeup and changing out of your intricate costume when your phone rang. You called out to Meg, requesting her assistance. Her eyes widened as she looked at the caller ID.

"It's just Ryan," Meg replied smoothly, her quick response, not quite a lie but not the entire truth either. You scoffed, expressing your frustration with her answer. "I just talked to him before the show. Can you take it?" you asked, your closed eyes not quite hiding the irritation in your voice. Meg, ever quick on her feet, continued her half-truth, "I'll handle it, don't worry."

Meg stepped outside the dressing room, her voice slightly changed as she answered, "Hello?" She tried to sound as casual as possible, though her voice carried a hint of tension, aware that the person on the other end was someone she didn't expect.

Hugh felt a pang of disappointment, hearing Meg's voice on the other end of the phone instead of yours. His heart sank, and his brows furrowed in confusion and disappointment. "Megan?" he repeated, the name feeling like a cruel joke. "Is (y/n) there?"

"She is, but she's getting cleaned up. I can take a message," Meg's voice carried a mix of professionalism and hesitation. Hugh felt a pang of frustration at her words, his hopes suddenly dashed. He hesitated for a moment, unsure whether to leave a message for you or not.

With a sigh, Hugh's disappointment washed over him. "No, I just... I don't even know why I called… I miss her," he admitted, his voice tinged with a hint of frustration and resignation. He couldn't help but feel foolish for making the impulsive call, now facing the reality that he wouldn't be speaking directly to you.

Megan sighed, a mix of sympathy and concern evident in her voice. She couldn't help but let a hint of truth slip through her words, "She misses you, but you didn't hear that from me." The words carried a sense of worry and concern for her friend, knowing how deeply the situation had affected you.

Hugh's tone betrayed a hint of hope, his voice tinged with a touch of disbelief. "She does?" he asked, his tone filled with a mix of cautious optimism. The prospect of you missing him, combined with Megan's words, sparked a glimmer of hope in his heart, despite his attempts to push away such feelings.

Megan's simple affirmation carried weight, and Hugh couldn't help but feel a mix of joy and confusion. "Yeah, she does," she confirmed, her words echoing in his ears. For a moment, he allowed himself to believe it, a flicker of hope blooming within him.

Hugh's tone became more decisive as he shared his news. "I left Debora," he stated, a mix of determination and hope resonating in his voice. The statement carried the weight of his decision, a moment of clarity amid his tumultuous emotions.

Megan's suggestion carried a tone of honesty and concern. "You should tell her that," she advised. Her words echoed in Hugh's mind, the truth of her statement sinking in. He knew that he needed to tell you, but he also feared the response. "In person preferably," Megan added, emphasizing the importance of a face-to-face conversation. She knew the weight of the moment, the significance of Hugh's decision, and the impact it would have both on you and his own emotions.

Hugh agreed, realizing the importance of what Megan was saying. "Right, right," he said, affirming he understood the significance of speaking to you in person. His heart skipped a beat, both nervous and hopeful at the prospect of finally seeing you after all this time.

Hugh's voice conveyed a mix of vulnerability and hope. "Maybe, just don't tell I called then," he whispered, his words tinged with a hint of embarrassment and desperation. The thought of you learning about his attempt to reach out through Megan stung, and he wanted to ensure that you didn't find out.

"Sure," Megan replied, her tone warm and reassuring. She was aware of the delicate situation and wanted to support Hugh in any way she could. However, she also understood the need for discretion and the potential implications of Hugh's words. The call ended with a sense of unresolved tension, the conversation leaving both Megan and Hugh with mixed emotions.

As Megan returned to the dressing room, she swiftly deleted the call from your phone's history. She made sure to maintain her composure, acting as if nothing had happened, pretending that the conversation had never taken place. Her actions were done out of a sense of protection, trying to maintain a facade of normalcy in the face of the emotional revelations that had just occurred.

Hugh's thoughts were still buzzing, his heart heavy with both hope and uncertainty. Without hesitation, he dialed Ryan's number, the desire to confide in his friend overwhelming. The phone rang, its sound echoing in Hugh's ear, his anticipation growing with each passing moment.

"Ryan, I need to talk to you," Hugh's voice was filled with a mix of urgency and vulnerability. The weight of his recent decisions and emotions had reached a boiling point and he needed to confide in his friend.

Ryan's light-hearted response brought a slight smile to Hugh's face, momentarily easing the tension he carried. Despite the seriousness of his emotions, he couldn't help but appreciate Ryan's ability to bring a touch of humor into the situation.

"Yeah, well, sometimes an hour is all I've got," Hugh replied, a hint of humor laced in his tone, trying to match Ryan's casual demeanor. Hugh's words poured out in a rush, his voice carrying a mix of vulnerability and desperation. He recounted the events that led to his decision to break things off with Debora, how he had finally put his foot down, and how he felt a deep, aching longing for you. There was a sense of longing and regret in his voice as he explained his desperation to have you back in his life.

Ryan sighed, “We’re going to the LA show on Saturday. You can tag along if you want.” Ryan's offer surprised Hugh, but it also sparked a glimmer of hope within him. The prospect of attending an LA show and getting the chance to see you again filled him with a mix of excitement and apprehension. He tried to compose himself, attempting to sound casual despite the emotions raging within him.

Hugh's gratitude was heartfelt, his voice carrying a mix of relief and appreciation. The offer of a chance to see you again, even if it was a simple gesture, meant the world to him. He couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude for Ryan's support and understanding. "Thank you, mate. Really," he replied, the words echoing his genuine appreciation.

Hugh ended the call, his heart pounding with a mix of anticipation and uncertainty. The thought of seeing you at the LA show filled him with both excitement and anxiety. He knew he needed to proceed cautiously, yet he couldn't help but feel the hopefulness that came with the possibility of reconnecting.

As the day of the LA show approached, both Ryan and Hugh were visibly anxious. The anticipation hung heavy in the air, each of them grappling with their fears and concerns. Ryan was anxious about how you might react, fearing your anger or disappointment. Hugh, on the other hand, was consumed by the fear of being rejected, his hopes riding on the possibility of rebuilding your bond.

As Hugh, Ryan, and the group entered the building, they were immediately greeted by a swarm of fans. Cameras flashed, and the shouts and screams filled the air. Hugh tried to keep his composure, managing a smile and waving to the fans, but his thoughts were consumed by you.

As the show commenced, Hugh watched you as you ran out on stage, a mix of emotions coursing through him. The sight of you in the iconic towel and the bejeweled bodysuit stirred a mix of admiration and longing within him. He found himself clenching his fists, the weight of emotions overwhelming him. Despite the crowded arena, his focus was solely fixed on you.

As the Juno arrest segment of the show began, you walked near the VIP area, closer to the stage. The bright lights illuminated the faces of the audience members, including the celebrities seated in the front rows. While scanning the floor, you heard your name called out, and you turned to see none other than Marcello Hernández playing the role of his iconic character, 'Domingo,' from 'SNL.'

You couldn't help but widen your eyes and break into a knowing smile. "Oh my god! Hi," you replied, your tone filled with genuine delight. "What's your name?" you asked playfully, acknowledging his iconic character and accepting the unexpected moment.

Marcello beamed with enthusiasm, the character of 'Domingo' fully embodying his energetic and over-the-top nature. "What's my name?" Marcello chuckled, feigning slight offense. "My name’s Domingo."

With a radiant smile, you playfully engaged with Domingo, embracing his character and the lighthearted banter.

"Oh," you responded, your voice filled with a mix of amusement and playfulness, "Is there anything you want to say before I arrest you, Domingo?" You mimicked his dramatic behavior, emphasizing the fun aspect of the encounter.

Marcello, fully immersed in his 'Domingo' character, beamed with a smile as he began his skit. The words came out with a combination of humor and mock embarrassment.

"Came all this way, had to explain, direct from Domingo," he stated, his voice filled with an over-the-top flair. "(Y/n)’s my friend. She's like my sis," he continued, "but we did hook up, though!" There was a mix of theatrical exaggeration in his words, adding an element of humor and lightheartedness to the conversation.

You fanned yourself dramatically, adding to the humor of the situation. As your skirt fell off, you played along, allowing the moment to unfold, and the audience to laugh, thoroughly entertained by the comedic exchange between you and Marcello.

As you smiled at Marcello, playing along with the skit, you bent down with the handcuffs in hand. "Like now?" you asked, your voice tinged with amusement and a playful tone.

As you handed the handcuffs to Marcello, your eyes caught a glimpse of something—someone familiar standing behind him. The sight of Hugh, watching you from the VIP area, momentarily caught your attention. Your expression might have briefly revealed a flicker of surprise or a mix of emotions, even as you remained locked in the skit.

As the music started, your eyes lingered on Hugh, taking in the sight of him standing in the VIP area. Despite the performance in progress, your eyes seemed fixated on Hugh for a moment longer than intended. The weight of his presence, the memories flooding back, and the lingering feelings made it challenging to focus solely on the show.

As the performance continued, the sight of Hugh in the audience added an extra layer of surprise and uncertainty to the moment. The question lingered in your mind, 'Why was he here?' It was impossible not to wonder about his presence.

As the show went on, your attention was constantly drawn to Hugh's presence, your gaze seeking him out at every possible opportunity. The act of searching for him amidst the crowd became distracting, even as you tried to focus on the performance. No matter how much you attempted to stay in character, your mind remained divided, pulled between the show and the reality of Hugh watching from the VIP section.

The performance reached its final moments, and you were lowered down from the center of the stage. As you descended, the lights dimmed, signaling the conclusion of the skit, but the weight of Hugh's presence remained on your mind. You couldn't shake off the feeling of his gaze on you, the emotions that swirled within you, and the lingering questions that surfaced about his unexpected appearance.

As you rushed to the dressing room, a whirlwind of emotions coursing through you, you burst through the door, seeking the safe space of the dressing room. You were ready to vent, to express the emotions that were threatening to consume you. The sight of Megan, your longtime friend and confidante, brought a sense of relief, a familiar face in a moment of uncertainty and vulnerability.

The words tumbled out of your mouth as you rushed in, your voice filled with emotion and intensity. "He's here!" you exclaimed, the words carrying a mix of surprise, uncertainty, and a tinge of fear as if the mere presence of Hugh had sent a shockwave through your entire being.

Megan, who was in the dressing room waiting for you, immediately understood the significance of your words, her eyes widening with a mix of surprise and concern.

Ryan stood outside the dressing room, his casual attitude contrasting with the whirlwind of emotions inside. He called out to Hugh, "You coming in or what?"

Hugh's gaze lingered on your door, his mind still consumed by thoughts of you. It took him a moment to compose himself before he turned away, responding, "Yeah, I'm coming." The decision to join Ryan, the uncertainty of the moment, and the desire to be near you all weighed heavily on his mind. He knew he couldn't stay away.

There was a gentle knock on the dressing room door, a familiar sound that interrupted the whirlwind of emotions inside. As Megan opened the door, her eyes widened, seeing Ryan and Hugh standing there, their unexpected presence setting her on edge. She looked at them with a mix of surprise and concern, "What are you two doing here?" The question hung in the air, and Megan's expression betrayed her curiosity and slight annoyance.

Your voice called out from within the dressing room, your curiosity tinged with a hint of concern. "Who is it?" you asked, your tone filled with uncertainty. From behind the closed door, you waited for answers, the tension in the air palpable as you tried to discern the identity of the unexpected visitors.

Megan, standing at the door, froze, caught in the awkward and uncertain situation. Her mind raced, searching for the right words to say, but they seemed to elude her. She looked at Ryan and Hugh, her expression a mix of hesitation and worry, unsure how to handle the situation at hand.

As you stood up from the couch, the weight of the situation felt heavier than ever. With each step closer to the door, your heartbeat quickened, anticipation and uncertainty filling the air. Your mind was a chaotic whirlwind of thoughts and emotions, your mind racing with questions about what might await you on the other side of the dressing room door.

Your eyes met the familiar gaze, and in that moment, time seemed to stand still. The world around you faded away, and your heart pounded in your chest as you froze in place. The mix of emotions surged through you, a rush of surprise, confusion, and a hint of a familiar warmth that you couldn't deny. The weight of the moment was palpable, filling the air with a mix of tension and unspoken emotions.

Ryan's voice broke the silence, his friendly smile trying to dissipate the tension in the air. "Hey!" he said, his tone casual yet carrying a hint of anticipation. "We just wanted to stop by." The words seemed innocent enough, but the underlying intentions were not lost on anyone present.

Despite the conflicting emotions within you—the desire to slam the door shut and the pull of your heart—your words slipped out, softly inviting, "Come in." The words carried a mix of resignation and curiosity as if a part of your heart couldn't help but grant them entry into your space.

Ryan, in his typical playful manner, wasted no time in claiming the bean bag chair, diving into it with a gleeful grin. "Dibs!" he declared, his voice filled with a mix of cheer and possessiveness as he settled into the cozy seat, making himself at home.

As Hugh passed you, a pang of longing stirred within him, the urge to reach out and touch you almost overwhelming. But he held back, the intensity of the moment and the audience of Ryan preventing him from acting upon his desires.

With a touch of sincerity in his voice, he said, "You were amazing." The words were meant to convey his genuine admiration and appreciation for your performance, but they were tinged with the unspoken feelings that lingered beneath the surface.

You were momentarily speechless, still caught off guard by Hugh's presence and his words of praise. The mix of emotions consumed your thoughts, making it difficult to form a coherent response. All you could muster was a simple, "Thanks, Hugh." Your voice was soft but tinged with a mix of confusion and a hint of warmth, as if your tongue was tied, unable to fully express the feelings stirred inside.

Ryan, observing the awkward silence that hung in the air, decided to broach the subject. He chuckled lightly, his voice breaking the tension, "Shit. The tension here, huh?" His words hung in the air, acknowledging the palpable tension that lingered between you and Hugh, bringing it to the surface. The moment was heavy, the unspoken words and emotions creating an undeniable atmosphere of unease.

As the door opened, the photographer along with Marcello, and a few additional individuals entered the dressing room, adding to the already crowded space. The chaos of the moment intensified, with the room buzzing with activity and the weight of the tension between you and Hugh becoming more pronounced.

You greeted the intruders with a warm smile, putting on your charming demeanor, and welcomed them into the already crowded dressing room. "Hey! Come in!" you said, the words carrying a sense of enthusiasm despite the tension in the air. As you stood up to hug Marcello, you praised him warmly, "That was so fun. Everyone loved it!" Your words were a mix of genuine praise for the skit and a cover for the tense atmosphere.

The photographer requested a photo of you and Marcello together, and you obliged, deliberately choosing to sit close to him. With a sultry smirk, you draped yourself playfully over him, perhaps a subtle act of pettiness aimed at Hugh. The moment felt charged, filled with a mix of banter and unspoken emotions.

Your actions were not lost on Hugh. Your subtle act of pettiness was not lost on him, and he couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy. The sight of you so close to Marcello, the playful banter and your smirk fueled the emotions burning within him.

Ryan, seizing the opportunity to leave Hugh and you alone, grabbed Megan's arm, pulling her along. He played it off as a request to see your shoes, asking her to show him where they were. "Say, show me where they keep her shoes. I want to see if I can run in them," he chuckled, his tone playful, but his intentions clear. With a swift push, he ushered Megan out of the room, leaving you and Hugh alone together.

The silence between you and Hugh stretched on for what felt like an eternity, the tension in the air so thick it could be cut with a knife. The weight of his presence, the longing for you, and the unspoken words all hung between you, creating a palpable and uncomfortable atmosphere. Neither of you knew how to break the silence, the tension so palpable it seemed to consume the very air around them.

As you stood up and moved to the mirror, applying a touch of lipstick, the question, "How's Debora?" slipped from your lips, laced with a subtle jab.

Hugh watched you with a mix of emotions, his gaze filled with longing and a hint of intensity. As you turned to look at him, your furrowed brows revealing your confusion, he answered, his voice filled with a mix of resignation and hurt. "Pretty pissed. She moved out a few days ago." The words hung in the air.

"Sorry to hear that," you replied, your voice tinged with a hint of genuine sympathy. Hugh stood, shaking his head as he admitted, "Don't be. I asked her to." His words hung heavily in the air, a mixture of regret and resolution filling him. There was a mix of conflicting emotions within him, a blend of sadness and a sense of determination. The weight of his decision, the end of his relationship, and the uncertainty of his future weighed heavily on his mind, making the silence between you and him feel even heavier.

As you asked, "Why'd you do that?" your voice was filled with a mix of curiosity and concern. The question hung in the air, seeking an answer to the turmoil that Hugh was feeling.

The weight of Hugh's confession hung heavy in the air, and the vulnerability in his voice sent a shiver down your spine. "Because I was a complete idiot," he admitted, the words tinged with regret and self-awareness. "Because I miss you. Because I love you, (y/n)." The intensity of his words left no room for doubt, his love and feelings laid bare, a direct and vulnerable admission that shook the very foundation of your connection.

As Hugh bared his soul, his raw and honest confession hanging in the air, you felt a mix of emotions coursing through you. There was a part of you that yearned to throw your arms around him, to embrace him and give in to the love and feelings that had been simmering beneath the surface. But a sense of uncertainty held you back, the nagging doubts and concerns making it difficult to act on the impulse.

Hugh's gaze met yours, the weight of his confession still lingering in his eyes. He understood your hesitation and the pain he had caused you. With a hushed voice, you expressed your uncertainty, "I don't know what to say, Hugh. You broke my heart." The words slipped from your lips, filled with a mix of pain and confusion. The raw vulnerability in your voice echoed throughout the room, revealing the depths of the hurt that his actions had inflicted.

Hugh, unable to contain his emotions, closed the distance between you, pulling you into a tight embrace. His strong arms wrapped around you, the warmth of his touch seeping through the fabric of your bodysuit. You could feel the rapid beat of his heart, in sync with your own, the connection between you was electric and undeniable.

Hugh whispered, his voice filled with genuine remorse and a mix of vulnerability, "I'm sorry, baby. I was a fool to let you go. Please," his words filled with a pleading tone as his warm breath brushed against your skin. There was a raw honesty in his voice, a heartfelt plea that echoed through the room, as he begged for a chance to make things right.

Your resistance melted away as his lips found your neck, planting soft, feather-light kisses. His hands roamed over your body, tracing the curves of your hips and waist. You moaned softly, unable to deny the pleasure his touch ignited.

"I've fantasized about this moment, about having you again," he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear. "Let's make up for lost time, right here, right now."

The thought of being intimate with Hugh in your dressing room sent a rush of adrenaline through your veins. With a swift motion, you unzipped the bodysuit, letting it slide off your shoulders, revealing your body beneath.

Hugh's eyes widened at the sight of you. He couldn't resist any longer. In a swift motion, he lifted you onto the vanity, the cool marble contrasting with your heated bodies. Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer. Your lips met in a passionate kiss, tongues dancing and exploring, tasting each other's hunger.

Hugh's hands cupped your breasts, squeezing and kneading the soft flesh. He teased your nipples, rolling them between his fingers, causing you to arch your back and moan. You ran your hands through his hair, urging him on. "I want you to fuck me, Hugh," you whispered between kisses. "I need you inside me."

Hugh didn't need to be told twice. He undid his pants with haste and positioned himself at your entrance, his hard cock throbbing with anticipation. With one swift thrust, he buried himself deep within your pussy.

The vanity trembled with each powerful stroke, the sound of your bodies slapping together filling the dressing room. Your hands gripped the edge of the vanity, your nails digging into the marble as Hugh pounded into your cunt, hitting all the right spots.

"Oh, God, yes! Right there, Hugh!" You cried out, your body on the brink of ecstasy.

Hugh's hips moved in a relentless rhythm, his balls slapping with each thrust. He leaned forward, capturing your nipple in his mouth, sucking and biting gently, sending waves of pleasure through your body.

"You feel so fucking good, baby," he growled between thrusts. "I've missed this, missed you."

Your moans filled the room as you neared your climax. Hugh's name escaped your lips in a desperate plea for release. He obliged, increasing his pace, driving her over the edge.

"Cum for me, baby!" he commanded, his voice thick with desire.

Your body shook, pussy clenching around his shaft as you came, screaming his name. Hugh held you tightly, his orgasm building as he felt your tight grip on his cock.

With one final, powerful thrust, Hugh unleashed his load deep inside you, filling you with his hot cum. You both clung to each other, your hearts racing and bodies slick with sweat. As their breathing slowed, Hugh gently lowered you onto the couch, your bodies still intertwined. He kissed you softly, his hands caressing your face.

"I love you, (y/n). I want to make this right, to be with you again," he whispered, his eyes filled with sincerity. Your heart softened at his words. You had never stopped loving him, despite the pain he had caused. You knew this reunion was fueled by passion and revenge, but in that moment, you couldn't deny the connection you both shared.

"We started off so fast. Let's take this one step at a time, Hugh. We have a lot to work through," you replied, voice laced with desire and caution. Hugh smiled, his eyes sparkling with determination. "I'm not giving up on us, not this time. I'll prove to you that we can make it work." As you two lay entangled on the couch, your bodies still buzzing from the intense encounter, you couldn't help but wonder if this was the beginning of a new chapter or a fleeting moment of passion.

💋💛💋💛💋💛💋💛💋💛💋💛💋💛💋💛💋

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#hugh jackman series #hugh jackman smut #hugh jackman fanfic #hugh jackman fic #hugh jackman x you #hugh jackman x reader #hugh jackman #deadpool and wolverine #wolverine x reader #logan howlett

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moonmaiden1996 · 2 days ago

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Thinking about Sanji... 🤔🤭 Do you think besides the nosebleeding he comes undone in his pants very often?

18 +++ Suggestiveness

I mean I should be sleeping but this ask must be answered!

ALL THE TIME!

This man is practically the poster child for coming in his pants. Let’s break it down even further, because the scenarios where this man absolutely loses it are endless.

Sanji is the ultimate combination of devotion and zero chill. From the moment you set foot on the ship, he’s been hopelessly infatuated, worshipping you like a goddess. And let’s be real—when Sanji loves, he loves hard. Which means he also cums hard. Every glance, every smile, every casual interaction with you is like a shot to his very soul and well--- his pants.

The nosebleeds? Just the tip of the iceberg. Sanji is so worked up, so brimming with adoration and desire, that the smallest, most innocent gesture can leave him clinging to his last shred of composure and make as mess in his pants.

Everyday Moments That Ruin Him:

When You Praise His Cooking: The way you moan softly after tasting one of his dishes? He’s toast. A trembling, stammering mess, ready to drop to his knees and thank the universe for your existence as he explodes.

Adjusting Your Clothes: Fixing your shirt strap or adjusting your skirt without even thinking about it? He’s biting down on his lip so hard its hard to know where his losing the most bodily fluids from.

Stretching in the Morning: Catching a glimpse of you stretching after waking up, arms above your head, soft sigh escaping your lips? He’s gripping the nearest piece of furniture for dear life- the man needed to change his outfit and he he hasn't even made breakfast yet

Subtle Teasers That Shatter Him:

Eating Something Messy: Watching you innocently bite into a piece of fruit or a pastry, lips glossy and fingers a little sticky? He’s sweating, his knees weak, heart pounding like a drum and his definatly twitching.

Playful Touches: You laugh and lightly tap his arm, or, heaven forbid, rest a hand on his shoulder while asking him something. His brain short-circuits defiantly thinking about another place he would like you to touch as he reaches his peak.

Trying to Learn Something New: If you’re cooking and lean in close to ask for tips, he’s hyper-focused on not combusting as you innocently stand inches away from him. If he has to put his arms around you to help your technique he is a goner.--- RIP SANJI.

Accidental Intimacy:

Sharing a Drink: You take a sip from his glass or taking a bite off his fork? His thoughts spiral, and he’s barely holding it together. I mean he just isn't he collapses on the floor and is twitching for at least 10 minutes before his aftershocks subside.

Fixing His Tie: Adjusting his tie or brushing crumbs off his shirt? He’s will be needing to take a trip to his room to change.

Wearing His Clothes: Borrow his jacket or shirt? The though alone sends him its a sea of moans. The sight-- this will send him onto a full on fit and I am talking multiple. He passes out from pleasure here.

Sanji’s mind has been racing about you since the day he met you. Whether it’s imagining sweet, romantic gestures or, well, less innocent daydreams, he’s perpetually teetering on the edge. Any minute he could burst. He’s so eager and so deeply in love that even the most mundane interactions feel electric so he is very sensitive to anything you do.

Would he be mortified if you caught on? Absolutely. But deep down, a secret part of him would revel in it— he wants you too watch him! Knowing that even without trying, you have this effect on him. It’s just further proof of how utterly and hopelessly devoted he is to you and proves how amazing you are.

On the whole Sanji doesn't see this as a bad thing he sees it a proof that your made for him but... he does not love the amount of laundry he has to do or running out completely and having to borrow erghhhh Zoro's. The texture, the smell… the sheer uncomfortableness of having to wear Mosshead's clothes. But when he’s desperate, he’ll reluctantly reach for those, all while muttering curses and swearing that he’ll never let it come to that again. Of course it does as Sanji simply cannot stop himself.

But after that horrifying experience Sanji will just go commando or finally get you to love him so he can become undone in some other way *waggles eyebrows* you know what I mean.

I cannot resist a Sanji ask...who am I joking I cannot resist any One Piece guy I mean Corazon ....

Hope you enjoyed. I would love to know your take on his too :P

LIKE. COMMENT. REQUEST.

#one piece #sanji x reader #sanji vinsmoke #vinsmoke sanji #black leg sanji #one piece sanji #one peice #one piece zoro #opla x reader #opla #straw hats #straw hat pirates

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thomaslittlegirl · 3 days ago

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Can you please 🥺 do a part two to belong 🙏 i seriously lovee that one and just want more vulnerable Tommy

i hope you enjoy this part too, even though is shorter ♡

belong. thomas shelby (pt 2)

warnings; none. just soft tommy. pt 1 -> click here!

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

when you wake up the next day, thomas is still lying on your soft abdomen. his arms are still lightly around you, keeping you close to him, wrapped in your shared love.

his light blue eyes observe the weak rays of sunlight coming through the window giving notice that it is time to get out of bed and start the day.

he mentally complains.

the night always goes by quickly when he is by your side, wrapped in your warmth.

always ending too soon.

house is completely silent, only the sound of your calm breathing.

"good morning, tommy."

your sweet murmur brings him out of his reverie and he gently rocks over you, giving you a light kiss and then laying back down on your stomach.

"sweetheart." he greets softly.

he hides in your skin like a little child does behind his mother's legs when its feeling shy. hides like the moon when the sun appears again.

one of your hands gently goes to the nape of his neck and stroking the short hair that lies there, threatening to grow at any moment. his warm cheek rests on your skin.

"aren't you going to work today, baby?"

thomas wets his lips and thinks about his response for a moment.

his body feels numb, as if your heat were a sleeping pill of which he was a victim.

"later." he responds, surprising you. you look at the clock that lies on the night table and you think that it is strange that thomas is in the house until this time, much more in bed. "today i need your warmth, your peace."

your heart warms, you feel loved, as loved as he feels every time he hides in your soft stomach.

shelby closes his eyes enjoying the pampering, the attention that erases each of the knots he feels in his body, in his shoulders... the weight he carries day by day.

you smile even though he can't see you and your hand now slides behind his back, caressing his nakedness. "comfy there?" you ask.

not even the best rotten lullaby can match the calming power of your sweet voice.

thomas places a soft kiss on your abdomen and nods. "right where i belong."

#thomas shelby x reader #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinder imagine #cillian x reader #peaky blinder fanfic #cillian murphy x reader #cillian fluff #thomas shelby fluff

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ximmortalis · 2 days ago

Text

Emmrich Volkarin/Rook: Confession.

Summary:

Rook harbours a secret keeps it hidden under lock and key in her mind; the secret of the dark figure that forced her down to her knees.

With a blossoming relationship with Emmrich; Rook lies and finds herself burning with the need to confess.

Warnings: Mentions of past assault/non-con, suicidal thoughts.

A/N: Second part in the works.

Joints in her fingers cracking as she wrings her hands over and over, breathing slow and deep an attempt to starve off the panic building in her chest. Rook should be happy; she is ecstatically so. She’d just returned from a romantic evening with Emmrich in the Necropolis, sharing an exquisite meal fit for royalty. Rook had confessed that she had never been with someone romantically that he was her first. Emmrich for a moment looked taken a back but a gentle smile followed, he told her they could go as slowly as she liked, there was no need to rush. His acceptance made her giddy and a short walk around the gardens ended with a sweet kiss.

She should be on cloud nine, but she finds herself in her room feeling guilty.

When she told Emmrich that she’d never been with someone romantically it was the truth. Never been on a date, never been wined and dined or handled in such a gentle way like a cherished object. Soft touches are a rarity in life for a Crow; Rook is used to the harshness that comes with it.

Rook harbours a secret keeps it hidden under lock and key in her mind; the secret of the dark figure that forced her down to her knees and stole her purity, ripped her insides with sadistic glee and left her on the cold wet floor, broken. She had no idea how long she’d laid there alone and afraid unsure if her attacker would return.

Viago was waiting for her for the intel she had been sent out to gather, a fledgling at the time her training had begun only a year ago, only recently being sent out on actual assignments. Viago was furious when she finally turned up, he was relentless with his verbal assault and Rook had stood there and took it. She couldn’t tell him; the embarrassment was too much. It was shameful that a crow had let someone sneak up on them, it was her job to become one with the shadows; to remain undetected and she couldn’t even do that. It was enough to have her crow status stripped and kicked out of House De Riva. If Viago was paying more attention he’d see the angry red marks that littered her body, fingertip shaped marks around her throat and the welts around her wrists where she’d been held with a punishing grip. Rook said nothing when he asked for an explanation, infuriated by her lack of response he turned around and dismissed her. He spared her not even a glance but if he did, he wouldn’t have missed the limp in her step and the crimson stain blooming on her pants.

Waiting for the dead of the night to sneak her way to the bath house, letting out a breath when she found it empty. It’s a slow process stripping out of her clothes. When she pulls her underwear down, they’re stained with her blood and the stranger’s seed. She isn’t stupid, Rook knows the consequences that can come of this. Her stomach lurches violently as she throws up the contents of her stomach and she doesn’t stop until her lungs burn and ribs ache from dry heaving. Rook scrubbed her body raw until her arms ached, and the water scorched her skin. No matter how much soap and scented oils she used, the smell of him wouldn’t leave it was cemented in the pores of her skin.

Mind numb she sits in the water until it turns frigid.

In the morning, she goes to the apothecary, hood pulled over her head as far as it can go to conceal her identity. Face burning with embarrassment as she explains to the woman at the counter that she needs something that will stop conception. Without judgement the woman pulls out a potion of Silphium, explains the potential side effects and hands it to her. Drinking it all in one go she cringes at the bitter after taste and now she had to wait to see if it worked.

Throwing herself into training, Viago is keeping a close eye on her. She keeps a low profile, not wanting to draw any unnecessary attention. It works Viago slowly stops breathing down her neck and it seems that everything starts going back to normality.

That’s until a furious Viago bursts into her room.

“Want to tell me what happened that night?”

Time halts.

He knows, he knows, he knows!

‘’Nothing.’’ It’s a weak denial and she knows it and with the look on Viago’s face he doesn’t believe her.

‘’So, the trip to the apothecary and the Silphium was nothing?’’ His head cocking to the side, ‘’What? You didn’t think I’d investigate this?’’

Again, when she doesn’t answer it pushes Viago over the edge and she finds herself at the receiving end of another verbal assault. He couldn’t believe that she had jeopardised a whole operation for a quick fuck, asking if she was proud of herself. Once again, she sits and takes it, she already blamed herself for what took place; why not accept his blame as well?

‘’This stays between us; I’m not doing this for you.’’ He spits before taking a moment to catch his breath. He turns on his heel to leave but not before twisting the knife in her already shattered heart.

‘’You bring shame on House De Riva.’’

She feels numb again, out of tune with her emotions; she feels nothing but absolute emptiness. It’s strange, she thinks; there hasn’t been a single tear shed. Disconnected from her mind and body, she feels like an outsider looking in. Her body doesn’t feel like hers anymore, it feels dirty.

Desecrated.

It’s clear that this event is what starts her downfall, when she does finally become a full fledged Crow. Her risk taking behaviours increase, the contracts she takes are dangerous; ones that she couldn’t possibly survive. She’s not careful about them either but yet she seems to pull through each time. The relationship between her and Viago deteriorates and it was common place to find them exchanging verbal blows.

Viago thinks she has a death wish.

It’s not a wish, it’s a promise.

She wants to die; doing what she’s worked so hard for, then maybe she can claim some of her lost honour back.

It’s funny how her last death charge is what saves her, a patrol of Antaam herding captives. She didn’t even think, just leaped into action. She saved lives that day but the disappointment that she didn’t meet her bitter end was palpable. Unknowingly she had compromised a larger Crow operation. Her superiors were incensed and punished her accordingly. She’s sidelined and forced out of Antiva.

On the road she meets one of the captives she saved. Varric, the man who undoubtably saved her life.

Rook shakes her head a feeble attempt to push back the memories, it was years ago; it shouldn’t affect her as much as it did. Rook had spend many years lying to herself, shying away from relationships; starving herself of the loving touch of another. She was far to damaged no matter how good of a facade she put on, it wouldn’t be long before the cracks of her broken psyche would start to show.

If she stayed alone no one could take the opportunity to harm her again.

But, Emmrich appeared.

And he turned her world upside down.

Older, distinguished with an air of authority – a senior Mourn watcher.

A professor she expected for him to be harsh and critical of almost everything. Instead, he was softly spoken, gentle and his presence kept her calm. He respected her; not because he had to but because he wanted to. He indulged her when she had questions about his work, his patience unmatched. Rook would watch how he interacted with Manfred. Emmrich is an incredibly powerful necromancer, it would have been very easy for him to treat the spirit of curiosity as nothing more than an object to do his bidding. Instead, he treated the spirit as if he was human, teaching and nurturing him as a father would his own child.

It was safe to be around him, and it didn’t take long for her to fall head over heels for him.

Their relationship new and blossoming and she was already building the foundation on a lie. How would he react if he found out that she hadn’t told him the truth? But, what would he think when she told him what happened? It made her nauseous thinking about it.

She needs to confess.

No matter how painful it might be, no matter if he walks away from her. He deserves to learn of her failings – her sins.

Outside the door to his room her hand outstretched to knock, hovering in the air. She pauses, there is no going back after this and with a deep breath she knocks. A muffled permission to enter comes from within and she follows the voice inside. Emmrich is sat at his desk, the flicker of candlelight casts a hue against his features, he looks handsome in such lighting. He glances up and his face fills with warmth when he looks at her, but it quickly shifts to a look of concern. Emmrich stands and makes his way towards her, resting his palm against her forehead.

‘’My dear you look unwell, it wasn’t the food was it?’’

Savouring the warmth of his hands for a brief moment, looking up at him; the deep look of worry in his eyes almost brings her to tears. She converts this moment to a memory she will hold dear. Sensing her distress Emmrich cradles her face in his hands; hers come up to wrap gently around his wrists.

‘’My darling girl, what ever is the matter?’’

He guides them over to the couch and Rook sits with her legs crossed, her hands once again held tightly together. “I need to tell you something,” She looks down at her clenched hands knuckles turning white, “But I’m afraid you’ll not look at me in the same light.”

The air in the room changes as Emmrich senses the seriousness of the conversation. His hand slides over hers gently prying them apart, he keeps it there; lets her trace her fingers over the rings. He waits patiently, watching her facial expressions, the pinch of her brow, how her eyes dart back and forth, her mouth opening before closing again.

“When I said I’d never been with anyone, I wasn’t entirely telling the truth.”

Emmrich lets out a breath, almost wanting to chuckle at how his little darling had worked herself up over something so trivial. The relief he feels is short lived as the next words out of her mouth steals the air from his lungs.

“Years ago, I was doing recon on a target.” She begins, “I was in an alley keeping an eye out, when I was grabbed from behind.”

Like the flooded canals of Treviso, the words pour from her mouth an overflow of a long-kept secret. She spares no details. The fact that she hadn’t fought back and allowed him to do what he did. How she bled for days after, spent weeks worrying about being possibly pregnant and the relief when she wasn’t. Viago’s fury and sheer disappointment, how he had reduced her to a common whore. The deep shame and embarrassment. How she had sought death around every corner. Words coming out chocked as she tries to breath, she doesn’t realise she’s crying until she is pulled into Emmrich’s arms, he gently shushes her.

The lock on her emotions ruptures and she wails; loud and anguished.

It was gut wrenching to see her like this, all he could do was embrace her and let the torrent of tears soak his shirt. Her hands clutching at him as she near suffocates with each breath. He holds her tighter as his body shakes from the force of her sobs, his hand holding the back of her head, he tries to ground her, and he can’t help that a few of his own tears escape.

She lets the tears fall, each one washing away a little bit of the pain she’d been holding onto all these years. Grieving for the person she used to be, before that monster had stolen her away.

‘’It’s my fault,’’ It comes out as a harsh croak, ‘’If I had – ‘’

‘’No,’’ Emmrich interrupts he coaxes her to look at him once again his hands cradle her face, pushing the hair out of her face. ‘’It is not your fault.’’

Rook tries to shake out of his hold, but he doesn’t let her.

‘’The blame is not yours to carry my love, that sorry excuse of a man had no right to put his hands on you.’’

As her sobs subsided, she was left with a lingering headache and a rawness in her throat. But amidst the physical discomfort, she felt a strange sense of relief, felt a lightness she hadn’t felt in a long time.

Emmrich takes care when putting Rook back together, her emotions like an open nerve; he doesn’t stray too far from her side; leaving for a moment to make tea; making it to her liking and adding a spoonful of honey to ease the soreness of her throat, he brings a bowl of warm water and a flannel. Softly he cleans her face, wiping away the snot and tears. She curls up in his lap once again and they sit in a comfortable silence, the only sound to be heard comes from her sipping the tea.

He can’t help the bubble of anger that simmers within; he’s never been a man of violence, but he prays to never come across the man that cause her suffering.

‘’I’ve never told anyone before,’’ She delicately speaks not wanted to disrupt the soothing calm around them, ‘’I never wanted to let people see me so broken.’’

Emmrich places a kiss on the crown of her head his lips lingering there, ‘’You are not broken dearest, bruised, yes. But, not broken.’’

She looks up at him, eyes reddened and puffy from tears; still even like this she is the most beautiful woman he’s laid his eyes on. He can’t fathom how he managed to get her attention, but he doesn’t question it in the slightest.

‘’Indomitable is how I see you, unpredictable in the best of ways and most importantly of all; a survivor.’’

Survivor.

She’d never seen herself like that, frankly she hadn’t seen herself in years; now it’s time to let go of all the guilt she’d carried. To break down the walls and soothe the frightened girl that still lives within, to let go of the crushing guilt, show her the kindness that the world can offer, to feel the love of another.

‘’I feel safe with you.’’

A warmth blooms in Emmrich’s heart; this was more than a confession of love, she had come to him unknowing how this would go, gone against her judgement to remain silent. Shown him the parts of her that she had longed to keep hidden, she had put her trust in him, opened herself up to the potential of more judgement and disappoint. He knows that the events of that night will never fully leave, their will be times that she remembers, and the fear will come back, and she’ll fall.

She’ll never be alone as he will catch her every time.

‘’You’ll be safe with me always, my love.’’

#dragon age veilguard #dragon age rook #emmrich x rook #emmrich volkarin #female rook #antivan crow rook #angst #angst with a happy ending #hurt/comfort #fanfic

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flusteredfools · 2 days ago

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(Summer Daze again- sorry!!!) Was there ever a moment where Sun or Moon genuinely hurt Reader's feelings, or upset them that caused them to back off or avoid the boys for a while? How did Sun and / or Moon react?

First, please don’t be sorry!! I love answering asks and ones for my Fics/Au’s are especially delightful as well as help me flesh more of them out if it’s not something I’ve already focused/touched on so it’s really really nice and helpful!! I’m not sure how close I am to starting the main fic so I’m not too worried about spoiling things that will be in it; though for those who do mind, you might not want to read this if you have good memory and will most likely remember it later in a few months or so XD

(included some rough doodles before I start the next batch of ych prizes XD)

Moon, not so much, but only because conversations were already so few and short between him and the reader; his silence slowly lost its edge as Reader accepted he just is soft spoken and short with his words. So even if/when Moon wanted his silence to bother them, it never hurt too much after the first few times.

Sun, though, made it crystal clear that he didn’t like Reader from the start, and while not quite bullying (as he would NEVER let that happen to anyone under his watch) he certainly tried his very best to make things as difficult for them as possible. And while it did make them feel sad (after all it's not fun to have your new coworkers not like you) they accepted there had to be a reason for his actions and tried to work through it while hoping the two would eventually come around and the three would be friends one day.

That friendship became a bit of a double edge sword though, as once they started to get closer, Sun had started to lash back out and at that point, Reader couldn’t help but take it personally; friends one day but not the next makes for a confusing struggle.

The final wound that broke their hope was an overheard argument Sun was having with Buck (The human counselor from Team Fauna), where Sun (who still couldn’t be honest with himself) shared what he claimed were his true feelings before Moon could stop him as Reader turned the corner to where they were standing.

The immediate hurt that washed over their expression as their eyes filled and overflowed with tears had both bots’ processes stuttering in panic as Reader turned to run away, choosing to hide in the woods to cry their heart out alone. Moon shouted after them but couldn’t get himself to move out of his frozen shock, and Sun was still just as equally frozen; he’s said plenty of borderline mean things but he’s never made you cry before, it was the first time in his whole existence he truly felt such a deep regret over his actions.

Once they manage to get themselves moving, the two try searching for the Reader and despite knowing the trails and forest well enough to map every path without looking, fail to find them. Eventually Reader leaves the woods and quietly stumbles back to the shared cabin at night; only entering once they believed the two bots were charging in their sleep mode to hide under their blankets for some restless sleep.

The next day both celestials were greeted with short and forced pleasantries and awkward smiles that they knew held no real joy. Moon had attempted to smooth things over, to at least help rebuild the foundation of the shared relationship; but it seemed you had resolved yourself into believing none of it. Even though the ‘truth’ shared was only by Sun; Moon wasn’t spared from the cold distance, excuses Reader would make to stay away and keep themselves busy with tasks that didn’t require either co-counselor.

Neither liked it, not after knowing how sweet all the shared moments could be. The hurt Moon had felt only worsened and festered, turning into small fights with Sun over the loss of a wonderful friendship, let alone the loss of a budding love neither would now get to experience. It only took one moment to break everything, and now the two will spend every moment trying to fix it.

#fnaf dca #fnaf daycare attendant #fanfic #bearitt rambles #asks #anon ask #summer daze au #bearitt doodles

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amica-aenigmata-naboo · 2 days ago

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Juno

Christian Yu x Y/N - drabble - 585 WC

Masterlist

Warnings: fluff, implied smut, my first Insanity fic!, tiktok trend, song fic, no real warning just very cute, shorter fic but oh well

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You giggled as you ran into the kitchen where Insanity was cooking up a very intricate lunch for the both of you, having hyper focused on making specific foods this time he made an appearance.

“What has you so excited?” he said, smiling brightly at you.

“Can I film something? I just want to play a song and get your reaction to it.” you asked, setting your phone up to record while grabbing his from the counter to play the music over the kitchen speaker.

Suddenly “Juno” by Sabrina Carpenter started playing. You saw Insanity start to sway back and forth. He didn’t let on but he already knew this song and exactly what trend you were doing. He made sure to turn the heat down on the stove letting the sauce simmer for a while, giving his full attention to you. He twirled you around, dancing with you. Albeit he was much better at it than you. You both had stupid smiles on your faces as you laughed here and there, mouthing the words.

You make me wanna make you fall in love

Oh, late at night, I'm thinkin' 'bout you, ah, ah-ah

You pointed directly at the camera as you mouthed the words before leaning your elbows on the counter, poking your butt out slightly.

Wanna try out some freaky positions?

Have you ever tried this one?

You mouthed, winking seductively at the camera with a sly smirk. What you didn’t expect was Insanity pushing himself up right behind you with one hand on your hip and the other tangling itself in your hair, pulling you up into his chest before nestling his face into the crook of your neck. Your cheeks were on fire but you couldn’t help but turn into him, smiling softly before you kissed him.

Completely forgetting the song Insanity turned you to face him, holding your hips tightly as he kissed you. As your arms circled around his neck he wasted no time picking you up, holding your lush thighs around his waist. When you finally broke apart you smiled at each other, completely enchanted and enthralled in one another.

“I should get my phone.” you said, pointing at it as it kept recording.

Insanity smiled deviously, walking over to the phone with you still in his arms before he smacked the phone down onto the table so the camera was face down.

“I’m gonna make you Juno…” he said before walking you to the shared bedroom, kissing your neck the whole way.

-----------------------------------

You sucked the ice cream off the spoon as you laughed at the tiktok comments under yours and Insanity’s video.

@dprdaddyyyyy : WHAT’S IT LIKE BEING GOD'S FAVORITE?!?!?!?

@mit000 : The hair grab???? I’m dead

@yuwantme : they def fucked after this right? @Y/N please confirm

Insanity pulled the hood of his hoodie he let you borrow after up on you, hiding your messy hair. You fed him the next bite of ice cream, reading the comments over your shoulder.

“We def did fuck.” he laughed as you smacked his arm slightly.

“I love you.” you said as you kissed him, tasting the sweet from the ice cream on his lips.

“Not as much as we love you.” he said, leaning back in to kiss you.

You could feel his eyelashes bat against your cheek and his nose nudge yours when he pulled away. You cradled his face, basking in the warmth of the afterglow. Tender moments like these were your favorite with any of his personalities.

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Naboo's Note:

Hello! A short fic for ya'll! I started my new job but its nights so the new schedule has really been fucking with me and my motivation to put out fics. Most of my requests are for Mr. DPR IAN so I thought I'd give y'all a short one. Hope to post again soon! XOXOXOXO!!!!!!

#dpr christian #dpr ian smut #dpr live #dprian #dpr ian #christian yu x y/n #christian yu x reader #christian yu #mr. insanity x reader #mito

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renonv · 3 months ago

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A lot of you requested SpUk yesterday, and I’ve been meaning to draw something for them,,, so here’s a small snippet from an au where the two of them get stranded and they have to make their way back… together 😳

#this is following those two comic pages I drew a while ago #also I like thinking about Arthur’s magic agh #and I KNOW PEOPLE REQUESTED TOXIC YAOI and I like these two fighting… but I consume spuk in my very own specific way #where they share short and sweet moments like this #also Antonio is afraid of the dark and small spaces in this time period #hetalia #aph spain #hws spain #aph england #hws england #spuk #spamano #yes tagging spamano bc Antonio is yearning

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nighttimealone · 4 months ago

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Cw: Nsfw

Taking one of Simon’s balaclava from the closet, inhaling the lingering musk snd cologne scent while rubbing your pussy needily on the bedsheet. He went on a short mission for a few days, and you missed him, miss how he call you sweetheart with that gruff voice, miss how he sit you on his lap, murmuring sweet nothings while his hand

sneaks pass the waistband of your panties, pinching and flicking your clit to warm you up for his big cock, miss how his veiny and sturdy arms wrap around you while you fall asleep while basking in each other’s presence.

You kiss the balaclava on where his lips should be, but that’s not enough, the ache in your chest leads you to scramble to the closet again, taking out a pair of his skeleton gloves, putting those far-too-large gloves on as you slump down on the bed you two shared again, mimicking how he kneaded and rolled the sweet spot hidden between your slick folds, until you finally reach your high, dampening his gloves with your juices.

You tuck the used balaclava and gloves deep inside a discreet drawer, welcoming Simon back home the next day. He got a crazy amount of gloves and balaclava, sure he wouldn’t notice missing a pair or two, right? You try to convince yourself, till the day you think you finally get a chance to wash those fabric stained with the evidence of your guilty pleasure, that he appears behind you silently and catch you scrubbing them.

You have no one to blame other than yourself when getting put over his knees moments later, pajamas shorts pulled down, ass in the air and whining every time he lands a light slap on your reddened buttocks.

“Think I wouldn’t notice, hmm?” He rubs the spot he just hit gently, soothing that delicious tingle briefly “How many times did you come with my balaclava and my gloves?”

You look back at him, trying to respond with the vibrating dildo deep inside your squelching cunt messing your mind. “One ti-One- ngh…” your incoherentness brings yourself another slap, this time land carefully just above your stretched cunt and on the clit.

“Say it clearly, princess, can’t understand when you’re talking in moans.” Simon rubs your skin after the soft smack again, just like what he did whenever he gives you a teasing slap, but him rolling your over-sensitive bud that just got a sweet slap, only flares up your desire and makes you unable to think straight, his fingers and the dildo occupied your thoughts as you manage to answer more comprehensibly.

“One…only one time…” Your staccato reply receives a feign pity glance from him.

“Only one time? poor girl.” He grabs the base of the vibrating dildo and thrust in and out “Look how you lube this dildo with your juices so well, love. Finally satisfied?”

“No! No…please…” You paw at the bedsheets desperately, happy that he might end his ‘punishment’ soon, yet afraid that you won’t get the thing you truly craved. “Need you, Simon, please…! need you inside”

He grins imperceptibly, though the arrogance in his heart is satiated. That’s what he wants to hear, hear you say out loud about how much you need him, how only him can fuck you in the way others can’t.

Pulling the dildo out, seeing how your cunt grabbing onto it like you try to swallow it back in, he fish out his cock, standing straight and leaking profusely from enjoying the show “No need to feel empty for the lost, sweetheart, you’ll get what you deserve now.”

Simon press the tip of his length at your entrance, looking at you with smugness within those brown eyes, and he knows it’s going to be a long night when you gaze back with droopy eyes, still coming down from the edge, with a bliss-out smile spread across your glossy lips.

#ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost x you #simon riley imagine #simon riley smut #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #cod x you #cod x reader #female reader #nighttimealone

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synvil · 15 days ago

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Recording.. // Pornstar! Rafe Cameron x Pornstar! Fem! Reader

a/n: welp, this will be interesting. there’s so many ways this can go but let’s see which one i came up with.

synopsis : getting to work with the famous, most current top rated star in the porn industry was a dream. Let’s see how it turns out for you. pornstar! au!

warnings : explicit content! penetration, choking, cunnilingus, afab!, multiple orgasms, roughness, squirt, etc.

“[Name], thank you for coming. Did you get the email regarding today’s content?”

Shaking hands with the producer, you share a smile and nod, pulling away. “Yes, I read through it. I’m alright with it all.”

“Great, and I take it you’ve already showered and cleaned up before coming? Any questions?”

You nod again to the first part before thinking for a moment and parting your lips to speak. “Actually, I just wasn’t sure who I would be working with today. That wasn’t clear in the email.”

The producer exhales in understanding and hears the door opening, “Actually, we needed confirmation that he was willing to come in today,” and a tall, muscular and toned male steps out, a towel around his neck and in nothing but boxers and some gym shorts. “And there he is. Cameron!”

“Cameron..?”

The male who steps out looks up as he ruffles one end of the towel against his head of hair. “Yeah?” Almost immediately, he locks eyes with you.

Holy shit.

THE Rafe Cameron. The highest rated star in the industry, where every man and woman alike would kill to meet the handsome stud, much more, to work with him.

Must be a fever dream.

When you first auditioned to be part of this industry, Rafe was only beginning to take off.

And now that you were one of the top stars alongside him, Rafe was the highest rated one, and every woman who ever had the chance to work with him, could never be the same.

Thing is, you had no idea what he was like. Was he rude? The pompous kind of asshole? Or was he charismatic and sweet? But if he was, was it just for show?

Many thoughts begin to flood your head until you realize the producer and Rafe have been talking, and now he’s coming over to you, hand extended out.

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Y-Yeah, same.” You mentally curse yourself out for your anxiety and shake his hand but even more for the fact that you have yet to make eye contact, still glazing over his dripping wet bare body.

Rafe follows your gaze and gives a small chuckle, a charming smirk following it as he pulls away. “Sorry, thought I’d get a quick shower in before we start our filming.” He explains but you just manage a small nod. “R-right.”

The producer comes over and pats both of your shoulders. “Alright, now that we’ve done introductions, we’ll go over the scene once more with both of you and we’ll get started. Rafe, why don’t you go get dressed and I’ll get [Name] prepped?”

Rafe nods and gives you one more glance, his smirk still shining at you. With a wink, he turns away and takes his leave.

That smirk.. it sends a certain thrilling feel of desire in your stomach and you swallow thickly before attempting to focus your gaze on the producer, who begins to instruct the scenes.

Here you are..

“I can’t believe you!”

You shout as you slam the front door behind you, just for it to open a second later and Rafe coming in. “God, you’re insufferable!”

The current scene was you and Rafe coming home from the bar, celebrating a night of a special occasion, you had gotten a promotion at work.

And now you were rushing inside, having caught your on and off boyfriend of two years, openly flirting with another woman right next to you, once again.

At least that what it looked like to you, but your boyfriend has cheated before, and you weren’t going through it again.

“Would you just listen to me for one second?!”

Rafe’s voice follows after you while you take off your heels and throw it his way. “Don’t fucking talk to me!”

He narrowly dodges the heels thrown at his face before the expensive bag in your hand is also aimed for his head.

“What are you doing?” He asks, catching the bag with a scoff as you retreat to the kitchen.

“Take it back. I don’t want it anymore, we’re done.”

“Done? So you’re just giving all the things i bought you, back?” Rafe looks at you in disbelief as you begin to take off the jewelry on your person and drop it on the counter with a clink.

“I’m done with second chances, you asshole. You can’t just do one nice thing for me, one night.” I curse, slamming my hands down on the countertop as I turn to face him.

Rafe calmly sets the bag down as he stands opposite of you of the counter and sighs softly. “Baby, you’re not thinking straight, just let me explain before you-“

“Before I what? Break up with you for the final time?” You pull off the bracelets until you’re finally free of any jewelry and slide it towards him. “Take it all back.”

This time, Rafe can’t help but curl his lips into an amused smile, as he watches you return everything on you that he had bought for you.

“All of it?”

You tsk and point to the doorway. “The heels are back there.” You remind him though he was obviously aware.

“Alright, everything.. then the dress is included, right?”

. . .

“W-What?-“ Clearly taken back, Rafe’s lips forms a smirk at your clear surprise.

“Last I checked, I bought that stunning black gown you’re wearing tonight.. to celebrate.. remember?”

His words cause you to purse your lips and you’re aware of his slow advances towards you as he rounds the island counter in the kitchen. Rafe doesn’t break eye contact, keeping his eyes trained on you as he does this.

Tensions are high and you know he’s right, but you also know what will happen if you take off the dress.

However, behind the facade, behind the cameras rolling, your inner self is ready to burst. Your cheeks are beginning to flush and you can feel the intensity of his gaze on your body, trailing up and down your figure. Whether or not he was in character was unclear but it still made you wet with arousal at the sight.

Reluctantly, you bring your hands up to the straps, pulling it to the side of your shoulders and down slowly.

Rafe’s eyes hungrily takes in your fully naked form, you weren’t even wearing panties.

Your lack of undergarments weren't part of the script, which you can tell catches Rafe by real surprise momentarily, but it quickly dissipates into a smirk instead.

“No underwear?.. How naughty of you..” he murmurs as he finally makes it to your side and you fight the blush that’s threatening to spread and darken further.

“Shut up-“

Rafe just chuckles at your reaction as his hands sneaks around your bare waist. He looks down from his height with a certain glint in his eyes. “Hey, i’m not complaining..” He says as his head moves to your neck, kissing your collarbone softly. “it's kinda sexy..”

What the hell, I can’t respond.

He’s so hot.. i need to talk.. but im speechless..

My heart is pounding so hard— Relax, [Name], this is all just acting- Rafe Cameron is just acting.

You’re overthinking, stay professional!

But the next thing you knew, Rafe Cameron’s lips were smashing against yours in an intense, heated kiss.

And the faint whimper that escaped your lips wasn’t fake.

Needy hands roam your body everywhere, his lips planted on your neck and kissing every inch of your skin. He raises his head up to your ear and whispers, his breath hot. “You good?” It was quiet and subtle, not loud enough to pick up on the microphone hanging near us.

You nod faintly, and he grins, not waste another second ravishing you.

All the prior anxiety and worries you had faded and you found yourself melting into the kiss, Rafe’s muscular arms lifting you up by the waist and placing you on the counter, the cold touch making you gasp.

That gasp was enough time for him to allow his tongue to slip in, the muscle exploring inside your mouth, making you moan lightly.

Every movement was full of passion, Rafe fondling your breasts, giving each mound a full squeeze. His fingertips pinch your buds, a gentle twist causing you to send a breathy sigh. Your hands find their way to his hair and tangle your fingers in the locks of his dirty blonde locks.

Rafe's low chuckles reaches your ears again as he travels up to nip at your earlobes. His right hand goes down to dip between your thighs, his index finger planting itself right at your clit. He rubs it a few times before whispering, "So wet.. I can't wait to taste your pretty pussy.."

It's almost a growl when he says it, sending rushes of adrenaline through your body and the boost of arousal grows further in you.

The Rafe Cameron gives you one last kiss on the lips before he slowly slides down to his knees, muscular hands grabbing a hold of your thighs tight and firm, and being face to face with your already glistening pussy.

He licks his lips and doesn't hesitate to dive face first, tongue taking a long lick to your folds before going down on you. "O-oh, fuck-" Your eyes flutter shut at the wet sensation, a sharp inhale slipping out.

Holy shit, it felt incredible.

Rafe's tongue moves in circles around your clit a few times before continuously slurping up your juices that leaked from your folds, devouring your pussy like he was starved.

Your hands prop up your body by placing it firmly on the surface under you, but you can't help the hand that goes to tug on his hair and push his face deeper in, which causes him to chuckle deeply, the action creating vibrations through you.

"Oh god, Rafe." You breathily pant, his grip forcing your thighs to remain spread while his tongue prods at your entrance, pushing in and out. "Shit.. you taste incredible.." He mutters as his nose buries itself against your clit. The feeling is enough to send you into overdrive, your head tossing back and a tightening in your stomach makes you cry out.

"R-Rafe, I'm so close-"

Grinding your hips against his face, you illicit a loud mewl of pleasure, your body sending shocks throughout as you tremble from a hard orgasm.

Despite your fluids gushing down his chin, he continues to delve deeper in, overstimulating you, causing your thighs to shake as you cry out again, making him laugh.

“Aw, was it too much for you, sweetheart?” He grins mischievously and you flush, ignoring the way your heart flutters at the nickname as you attempt to catch your breath, watching as he licks his lips and stands up straight, ripping off his button up.

You can feel your mouth going dry at the sight of his toned, chiseled abs, the sweat glistening on his skin but what widened your eyes was the sight of his hardened bulge through his trousers, and you reach for the hem of his pants and pull him close, wrapping your legs around his torso.

Remembering you’re still on camera, you speak, “This doesn’t mean I forgive you.” You mutter, staring into his eyes while your hands palm him softly, working to unzip his zipper. But your words only cause him to flash a smirk as he helps you undo his trousers. “Oh don’t worry, sweetheart, by the time i’m done with you, you’ll forget about tonight.”

Crashing his lips with yours, you grunt but let him pull you even more towards the edge before pulling you down to the ground, his hands pulling the waistband of his pants and boxers down.

He strokes himself a few times, your eyes unable to help itself to the sight and you swallow thickly.

“Something wrong, baby?” He hums in amusement and you turn away a bit bashfully. “Not at all.”

Turning you around so you faced away from him, he breaks into a smirk as he wraps his arm around to give you a hand necklace, your throat firm in his grasp. Lining himself up at your entrance, he leans in close and speaks lowly. “Good, because I don’t intend to stop.”

Without warning, he inserts his length inside and you cry out a noise of pleasure. Your back at arches and he tightens his grip on your throat, but not enough to hurt you. “Heh, shit, you’re so fucking tight..” It almost seemed like it was actually Rafe saying this to you, instead of his character, but you didn’t have much time to think about it after as he begins to thrust into you from behind.

“F-Fuck-!”

One hand goes up to grab ahold of his arm that was holding your neck, and the other holds onto the counter for support. Every hard thrust causes your breasts to bounce as you two move in sync, Rafe doing deep but slow thrusts. His other hand is firming holding your waist but it travels up to grope your right breast, squeezing it hard.

Strings of moans are filling the room, and you momentarily forget the audience and cameras on you as all you can focus on is Rafe’s cock penetrating you hard.

He’s so deep.. i-i can’t think straight- it’s too much..

i’m so close- no wonder he’s so popular..

Rafe pulls away from your neck to use both hands to hold your hips firmly, his own picking up the pace as he begins to fuck you fast, the wet juices squelching each time your skin makes contact.

His hand goes down and his finger flicks your clit and it’s starting to send you over the edge. “Rafe..” Whimpers escape you as you dip your head down, clenching your fists on the countertop tightly.

“R-Rafe, fuck, you’re so deep.. i-i’m gonna cum-“

Rafe just smirks as he rubs your clit further, continuously thrusting you harder and faster until he feels a gush over your release and he pulls out, watching as your pretty glistening pussy squirts all over the floor.

“Fuck.” He bites his lip at the sight as he feels his own building up, and he spins you around while you’re panting. “Get on your knees,”

You fall to your knees to his command, and watch as he strokes himself fast and seconds later, his cum spurts its white salty liquid over your face, painting it like a canvas.

He pants heavily, catching his breath while you do the same, eyes fluttered shut at the warm liquid drips down.

“And cut! That was great, now get cleaned up you two!”

“You alright, [Name]?”

Still on the ground, you barely register a voice is talking to you while you appear dazed and confused.

Rafe has some skin-sensitive wipes in his hands, gently rubbing your face to wipe off any of his fluids before carefully helping you to your feet. “Did I go too rough on you?”

“I’m alright, thanks..” You whisper, feeling the exhaustion take over you. You lean onto Rafe, who holds you securely against his chest. “If it’s any consolation, today was fuckin’ amazing..” He chuckles lightly as he presses a tender kiss to your temple before guiding you to the couch where you can rest for a bit.

“Yeah?.. I think i understand why so many women gush over you after working with you.” You giggle weakly, sending an appreciative look when he sets you down gently, placing a blanket over you. He also chuckles lightly. “Yeah, but I think i’d like to work with you again, sometime soon. Maybe we can talk about our next filming together over dinner?”

Your stomach feels as though butterflies are doing flips inside you at the assumption of his words. “Are you asking me out, Rafe Cameron?”

Rafe merely shares a wink before pecking your forehead and getting up. “I’ll let you figure that out. Meanwhile, I’ll head to your room and draw you a bath to clean up.”

He takes your hand to press a soft kiss to the back of it before smiling your way and then turning to leave. Maybe he wasn’t acting the whole time.

“.. Rafe Cameron just asked me out..”

Best filming job ever.

a/n: hello all, hope you enjoyed! :) merry christmas. i shall have the first post of my camgirl series out soon!! <3

i’m sorry if this seems like such a rushed abrupt ending but i wanted to finish this in time for christmas :)

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #obx rafe #outer banks rafe #rafe x reader #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #obx x reader #obx #outer banks smut #obx smut #outer banks x reader #outerbanks rafe #outer banks rafe cameron #outerbanks #outerbanks rafe cameron #outer banks #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x you

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sttoru · 1 year ago

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your boyfriend cannot stop himself from kissing you all over. kissing you is his favorite thing to do - no matter when or where.

☀︎｜tags. older bf!gojo satoru x female reader. suggestive, mild (to somewhat) nsfw, fluff. lots of kissing. lots and lots of kissing and loving. he fondles and gropes you everywhere basically. clingy satoru. tiny bit size difference (yes ok im a slut, what about it). body worship kinda. readers gets called ‘sweet / pretty girl, baby, princess’. beta read? what’s that.

you fell for it again; satoru told you it was only going to be a quick peck on the lips. ‘i promise, baby, c'moooon’ — you recall him begging in that whiny voice of his. that's all what was needed to make you putty in his hands.

“fine, but only one kiss, okay?” you gave in and walked over to satoru, climbed onto your shared bed and leaned in for a swift kiss—only for his strong arms to cage you in and never let go. it had been ten minutes since; the apartment was silent, except for the lewd sounds of your shared kisses and heavy breaths.

satoru’s soft hands are wandering everywhere. from cupping your cheeks to rubbing your sides and gripping your ass. the clock was ticking loudly, but the sound of it was drowned out by your moans. and satoru’s low, needy whimpers.

the appointment you were getting ready for had long slipped your mind.

“mh, you’re such a good kisser, baby,” the white-haired man sighs. he absolutely loves the way you follow the movements of his glossy lips—your head tilting to the side and back—automatically accomodating to satoru’s motions. he was kissing you with an urgent need. one you had never known or witnessed before, “more, ngh, need more of you, please.”

satoru was not letting up. you couldn’t blame him; it was easy to get lost in this warm and cherished moment of peace. his sweet kisses switched intensity—going from innocent kisses to sloppy ones, resulting in your chin dripping with a mixture of saliva.

you whine and straddle satoru’s lap which earns you a happy hum from your lover. that was his plan all along: to completely distract you from the fact that you had to leave the house. that you had to leave his side. others would call it annoyingly clingy, but satoru absolutely needs your lips on his.

he is sure that he would go insane if he spent a whole day without kissing you. an hour is already too long, if he is honest.

satoru would love to kiss you until the end of time. until death comes knocking onto his door. the last thing he desires to feel is your plump lips and wet tongue wrapped around his. a peaceful, warm death. one with no regrets.

“mhmmm, fuck, you taste so sweet.” satoru's eyebrow furrow in delight. he is nearly overstimulated by the taste of you. the way your small body clings onto him, your hands holding onto his jaw and sliding down his chest, your sounds of pleasure that only he could ever have the honour of hearing.

it was perfect. all of you was perfect.

your parted lips make way for his tongue again. satoru slips his tongue inside your mouth. it was tender, yet demanding. your throat tightens up and a choked moan fills his ears. his cold fingers make contact with the warm skin of your midriff. they were aiming at one place; your chest.

the one satoru loves to fondle no matter when or where. the same one he loves to use as a pillow every night.

“nnh, ‘toru, need’to breathe,” you are running out of air. the short gasps you took between the heated kisses were not enough to fill your lungs. but, it was addicting. the shortness of breath the two of you experienced only served as more proof of your love.

neither of you want to pull away—to pause the make out session for even what could be a split second.

the older man below you is hesistant. he does not want to let go of you. it's like you’re asking him to break up—that’s how much it hurts him to stop kissing you.

however, he felt a bit light-headed from the lack of oxygen as well. satoru pulls away, but not without sweeping his tongue over your bottom lip, lapping up the drool that dripped down the corners of your mouth.

his eyes are half-lidded and glazed over with both love and lust. you stabilise yourself by holding onto his broad shoulders and satoru rubs your back to help calm you down further. a ghost of a grin tugs at his lips. he surely is enjoying your adorable, exhausted demeanour. your chest was heaving up and down—his fingers sneaking to your front and wrapping around a breast to feel its tenderness.

“pretty,” satoru sighs. he takes the chance once your lips part to take a deep breath. his tongue quickly slips in, invading your mouth and exploring every inch before separating the two of you again. he can not go a minute without kissing you. you sure are like a drug to him, “thank you, princess.”

you are surprised by the sudden tongue kiss, but brush it off with a chuckle. you know how satoru is; not able to keep away from you in heated moments like these. his large hands fondling, groping and squeezing every area of your body only proves that point.

“thank you for what?” you ask, planting a soft peck on his lips. your boyfriend responds by holding the back of your head. he leans in for another kiss like a man depraved of any affection. you shudder and hold onto him like he there is no tomorrow. he does the same back, squeezing you against his chest.

satoru slightly tilts his head back to answer your question. his breath was hot on your mouth, a faint string of saliva hanging between your bottom lips. he can not hold the urge. he can not answer. his lips are already colliding with yours once more.

over and over. until the two of you were out of breath and needed a break again.

“thank you for being with me,” satoru answers in a quiet whisper. the pad of his thumb brushes back and forth against the waistband of the shorts you are wearing. there is an urge to pull them down and reveal those pretty little panties you are wearing, but his current priority is to feel your mouth on his.

until he gets enough. which is never. never in a million years.

“thank you for everything, honestly,” satoru continues and leaves a couple wet kisses down your neck. his hands do not leave your perfect body. he’s admiring every curve - every body part that had yet to be touched, “could have never believed that i’d end up with such a pretty girl. but, here i am, with the prettiest girl in the world in my arms.”

satoru had a way with words. one that left you flustered like crazy each time. he looks at you and that’s when you know that he means every word. his eyes were shining, even when half-lidded. the admiration in them more than just visible.

he looks at your face and body like he’s witnessing the world's greatest treasure. and that you surely are.

“stop saying that.” you giggle embarrassedly. you cover your mouth to hide your smile, though satoru is quick to grab your wrist and pull your hand away. he keeps holding onto your arm to prevent you from hiding your face from his sight. and to stop you from hiding your lips from his, of course.

the older man clicks his tongue, scolding you jokingly for trying to hide that precious smile from him. he kisses the corners of your lips, touch lingering against your hot skin, “how am i supposed to admire my pretty girl if she keeps hiding herself, hm?”

you squirm due to satoru’s flirty words. his gentle tone of voice is making you feel those tingles in your lower abdomen. there has not been a single moment in your relationship where your lover made you feel unwanted. it’s been the complete opposite every day.

“someone’s getting a bit squirmy, aye?” your boyfriend teases. he knows that the combination of his words, looks and actions make you weak in the knees. you always react like it’s your first time kissing and that is both endearing and amusing to him.

you can’t control your bodily reactions either. the sight of satoru beneath you is simply too much. his fluffy hair that sits messily due to your fingers that tugged and played around with the strands, his black top riding up to reveal a glimpse of his defined abs and happy trail. . . the faint blush on satoru’s cheeks and the needy look in his eyes.

you surely can’t leave him alone while he looks like that.

“shut up and kiss me already.” you respond with a huff. and so, satoru does. wasting not a single second. kissing you is his job—his passion. the only thing he ever craves for.

the room once again fills with noises of pure contentment, enjoyment and pleasure. it’s just you two in that moment—no one else mattered.

as long as your lips stay attached to each other, no one actually does.

#sttoru writes.#jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #x female reader

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alexiroflife · 7 months ago

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how jjk men would react if they found out you sh…

Warning(s): cw//self harm, graphic depictions, mentions of depression, anxiety, sensitive content, angst/comfort

-> if you or anyone you know is struggling with self-harm, suicidal thoughts, depression, etc., know that you aren’t alone. as someone who used to struggle with these things myself, i understand how difficult it can be, but know that you are strong and you are loved. and thank you for the ask, this is a very important topic and i appreciate the vulnerability of the request. sending all the possible love in the world to all of you.

gojo, geto, nanami, toji, choso, sukuna

satoru gojo: satoru has an incredible sense of sight, thanks to his gift of the six eyes, as well as very keen observation skills. he picks up on little habits you harbor very quickly during the beginning of your relationship. you always choose to wear long-sleeved clothing, even when it’s warm, and you tug at your sleeves as though you are desperately trying to conceal a certain part of yourself from the outside world, from him. he doesn’t understand why at first. the thought crosses his mind that you just aren’t comfortable in sleeveless clothing, but you’ve shown him pictures of yourself from a decade ago when you’d wear variations of different tank tops, short sleeves, and more. he doesn’t understand what changed somewhere along the line. perhaps your sense of style has shifted? maybe you don't like your arms? (he can't understand how because he finds them to be the most gorgeous arms he's ever seen).

but no, something is nagging at him in the back of his head, churning the contents of his gut as though there is something he needs to know, to see that you were hiding, and when the moment unveiled itself, he instantly saw.

you’re in your kitchen while satoru watches you from the other side of the island, leaning over and gazing at your movements with a soft smile. his blue eyes scattered across your body, admiring you while simultaneously searching for any clue, any answer to his hovering questions.

“where’d i put the containers,” you murmur to yourself in the midst of making lunch for the week, moving about your space rather slowly.

satoru offers his own help, pointing a slender finger over to the space above your head. “did you check that cabinet?” he asks.

you turn over your shoulder and quirk your brow. “oh, do you live here now? suddenly know where everything is?” you ask playfully, a small smile rising to your lips as satoru chuckles.

“not yet,” he winks. “but i sure am working on it, though. you know i have to make myself familiar with the space in case we share it someday.”

“is that so?”

“or, of that doesn't work out you could always live with me. i’d love to have you.”

“we’ve been together for three weeks, satoru.”

“yeah, but what does that matter when it comes to loveeee,” he pouts and you giggle, shaking your head as you turn back to reach for the cabinet. you stand on your tiptoes and reach out, sleeve of your sweet draping down to your elbow.

satoru is quick to his feet to help you, though you’re more than capable, when he catches the sight of what looks like a scar streaking over the inside of your wrist. his face falls and his brows angle, marching over to you quickly with a look of urgency on his face.

you don’t register how fast he is moving until you feel him behind you. you turn and look up, caught off guard by the way his eyes had hardened and his pupils shrank. your hand stalls on the cabinet handle, the scars on your arm completely slipping your mind momentarily.

“satoru? you okay?”

he doesn’t answer, grasping your wrist in his hand gently and pulling it down from above you. your eyes flicker up to the movement, and when you realize what is happening, your heart sinks. your eyes go wide and you try to tug your arm away, but satoru’s grip tightens slightly, extending your arm by your wrist to display the inside of your forearm before him.

he thinks his vision is blurring over, his heart ringing in his ears, his breaths quickening as his eyes detail over the row of rigid scars lining from your inner elbow up to your wrist. his world collapses around him, lips stretching into a disbelieving grimace as his wild eyes survey the damage. some of those scars look newer than others, scabbing over with specs of purple, while the others are far older.

you panic, trying to tug away again, but satoru’s grip on you is too secure. a lump forms in your throat as you search for things to say, anything to say that could take your boyfriend’s attention away, that could excuse the sight before him as something else. “s-satoru, wait-” you stammer, your voice weaker than you had intended it to be.

satoru looks like he can’t hear you, nose flaring as he stares, and stares, and stares, and suddenly, your vulnerability is bare naked before him, on display for him to judge, to belittle, to curl his brows at and determine as pathetic and weak. you can feel yourself about to cry already, shaken by this sudden attention.

“satoru,” you whisper, arm trembling within his grasp.

“what is this?” he breathes out so quietly, his voice betraying himself and hardly reaching over a brush through the wind. when you do not answer, those pained eyes are on you, tormented by the sight he has just witnessed. “(y/n), what is this?”

you feel small, avoiding his eyes and looking all over the floor. “i- it’s nothing,” you murmur.

“nothing?” he repeats, as though he has been burned by your response. the white haired man quickly seeks out your other wrist, reaching down to your other side as you try to turn away, but he, of course, manages to seize it and extend it like your other arm and roll up that sleeve. the same row of scars litter your beautiful skin.

satoru’s a mess, frightened, confused, devastated. this is what you had been hiding from him all this time? “this isn’t fucking nothing, (y/n), they’re all over you! what did you do?”

you still can’t respond, you can’t muster up an excuse, you can’t do anything. satoru’s concern is far too overbearing, his gaze too intense, and his hold on you too secure. it feels like he has you laid out on a slab before him, stripped of your clothes as he examines your body with contempt.

he’s disgusted. he’s ashamed, you think.

amid his grief, he catches the terrified look in your eye, your lips tugged downward as if to prevent yourself from crying. you look so scared.

how could he have not seen this sooner, that you’re hurting? that you’re hurting yourself?

“baby, what did you do?” he repeats, softer this time as he leans down to look at you, your body trembling in his hold. his thumbs graze your inflamed skin, hesitant to touch you for fear that you may break.

“please don’t,” you breathe out in a huff, voice wobbling as you scrunch your eyes closed. “please, don’t look. just forget you saw it, please.”

“forget i-?” satoru has to stop himself from lashing out poorly, from allowing his emotions to overcome him in what he understands is clearly your moment of need. “how could you ask me to do something like that? (y/n), your arms, baby!”

“satoru, please-” you shake your head. you want to shrink away, to hide, to vanish into thin air. “i don’t wanna talk about it. please.”

“(y/n),” he exhales, closing his eyes to gather himself. “(y/n),” he repeats softly, hands releasing your wrists slowly and sliding up your arms to delicately hold your shoulders. “we can’t not talk about this. you have to tell me what’s been going on. you have to, baby, you have to understand how scared I am right now. help me understand. let me help you, let me take on whatever burden you’re carrying, please, I’ll do anything as long as it means you’re not hurting yourself.”

his hands move to your neck, cupping over the skin as he ducks his head down to look at you more clearly.

“i can’t stand the thought that you’ve been- and i haven’t-” satoru was stumbling now, throat straining as the urge to cry rose. “why didn’t you come to me? i’m right here for you, (y/n), i always have been. why didn’t you tell me?”

“...it’s embarrassing,” you manage to say, your voice fragile, on the verge of breaking. you can feel your boyfriend’s eyes peering into you even with your own eyes closed. “didn’t want you to see… I didn’t wanna be a burden.”

satoru’s heart is breaking for you, hurt that you could even think of yourself as a burden to him. “have i- have i done or said anything to you to make you feel that way?” he asks genuinely, and you cringe, turning your head to the side to open your eyes.

“no, of course not.”

“then why would you think that, baby?”

you shrug helplessly, tears welling into your eyes. satoru sees you, all of you, his heart thrumming to capture the pain you feel and to lift it from your chest, to help you breathe even just a little bit. he releases a weighted sigh, one of sadness, of love, of heartache for you, and he’s pulling you into him as your arms dangle limply at your sides.

you scrunch your eyes and immediately break down into him, sobbing into his shirt as his warm hands wash over your frame and cradle your head to him, the muscles in his face tight with anguish. he holds onto you like he’s horrified that you will fade away within his arms.

“i’m just so tired, toru,” you cry into his chest, dampening the fabric of his shirt. “i’m sorry.”

satoru doesn’t respond, afraid that if he speaks, he’ll end up crying too. you’re his girl, his beautiful, loving girl, and the fact that you have done such harm to yourself is incomprehensible to him. if you love him so, how can you hate yourself enough to have done this?

“how long?” is all he can ask you, breath heaving into your hair and ear. you hesitate, for he already seems so wounded by his discovery. “tell me.”

“...two years…”

he’s crushed. how did he not see sooner? how could he have been so blind after having bragged about being able to see everything so clearly? how could he have left you like this?

he holds you tighter, digging his head into the crook of your neck and hunching over, your eyes now seeing over the curve of his broad shoulder.

“i’m sorry, baby,” he apologizes to you in turn, fingers curling into your hair as he holds your scalp. “i'm sorry I wasn’t paying attention.”

you’re confused as to why he’s apologizing to you since the entire thing is your fault. satoru has a tendency to take on your emotions, piling them onto his own weight of carrying the title of the strongest. you never understood why he did so naturally and willingly, and why even now as you stood limply in his arms, he’s crying for the things you did to yourself.

he pulls away with shiny red eyes, gazing down into your shiny red eyes and tear stained cheeks. you’re so beautiful, he thinks. he hates that such beauty has been suffering in so much silence.

“(y/n), I love you more than anything in this goddamn world. please don’t- don’t keep doing this to yourself. if you’re hurting, come to me. hurt me if you have to lash out, but don’t hurt yourself beautiful.”

“i would never even think of hurting you, satoru.”

“then don’t think of doing it to yourself,” he says firmly, and you press your lips together.

“…i-i don’t know how to… to stop,” you mumble, and he’s taking your hands in his and kissing them gently.

“i’ll help you. we can get you help, baby, I promise. just promise me, please,” he begs you, holding your hands close to his heart. “you come to me when you feel like doing that, okay? you come to me. and I’ll do whatever I can. let me help you. let me be there for you. i won’t let you push me out, (y/n).”

you're crying again, tears streaking over your face as satoru’s love captures you within his words, within his warmth as he forces you to understand that you are not alone, and never will be.

satoru kisses your hands again. his lips reach your cheek, and his hand comes to tuck your head into his shoulder again, holding you and telling you that you have him to go to when your world grows dark.

geto suguru: if suguru could sum you up into one word, he would say that you're his universe.

everything in his life he does for the sake of you and his girls, for the sake of keeping you safe and making you happy. your happiness and your comfortability are the only things that suguru prioritizes above all else, making them his very goal to serve each and every day.

suguru's not the most stable, you know that and he knows that himself. he has his off days, where he falls quiet and the world around him numbs itself and the noise becomes a muffle in his ears until you step into view, giving him a smile and wrapping his big frame up in your small arms, your voice whispering to him and breaking through the fog. you're his sanctuary. you're his safe place, and he loves you so much. he owes his entire life to you, therefore ensuring that you feel just as loved as you make him feel is very important to him.

so when he catches sight of the scars on your stomach one day by accident, when you lift up mimiko to sit on your shoulder as nanako jumps up for you to pick her up to, and her shoe kicks up your shirt from your waist momentarily, suguru freezes.

are you hurt? did someone do this to you? did you do this to yourself?

countless thoughts are racing through suguru's mind as he stares at you in a daze, watching you laugh so joyfully along with the girls as though no trouble plagues you.

but there is. you've just been hiding it. hiding it far too well.

his mind is elsewhere for the rest of the day, unsure of if he had been imagining things or not. he knows you so well, or at least he thinks he does. how have you been hiding those marks littering your lower abdomen? how had he missed them?

he thinks back to the moments you two were intimate and recalls that you never wanted to remove the tanktop you wore or let him kiss further than your ribs. he recalls the days you all went to the beach and you kept a white shirt over your swimsuit or elected to wear a onepiece. he recalls how quickly you change when he's with you, your back turned to him as you rush to throw something on over your upper body.

the signs... they're all there. you've been hiding yourself from him, but why? what have you been doing? have you truly been harming yourself, or is that thought a trick of suguru's worst fears?

he tries to keep himself calm around you and the girls for the remainder of the day until they are put to sleep and the two of you are alone again.

you sit on the edge of your shared bed, rubbing lotion over your arms with your back facing suguru again. he watches you carefully, back resting against the headboards and hazel eyes trained on your figure as though you aren't real.

he waits for the proper moment, waiting for you to crawl up and curl under his side, his arm subconsciously wrapping over your waist as your head lays on his chest. he stares at the ceiling for a moment, thinking as weighty silence overcomes you, then he's cautiously speaking.

"(y/n)?"

the soft call of your name brings your head up to peer at him curiously, blinking innocently. he turns down to look at your face and his heart clenches. while he knows that he knows what he saw, he doesn't want to believe it. he doesn't want to think that you, such a selfless and caring person for him, would hurt yourself.

you hum up at him, wondering what he has called you for. you see the pensive look in his face, the subtle knit in his brow as he stares at you, gears in his head turning. "yeah sugu?" you say gently.

he doesn't want to ask, but he has to. he doesn't want the confirmation, but he needs to know.

"i want to ask you a question..." he says, and you grow slightly befuddled.

"...okay?" you start. "is it serious?"

"yeah, it is," he admits, and you suddenly grow nervous, immediately catching an idea of what this could be about. you don't like the look on his face, the way he appears so serious.

"...alright," you mumble, suddenly meek.

the black haired man stares for a few more moments, just looking at you, taking in your the features he feel so deeply in love with, the features that bring him comfort and peace. "i saw something earlier, when you were holding mimiko," he begins softly, thumb caressing your back to ease you into the conversation.

you feel your heart jolt anxiously, trying to keep a straight face so as to not give your nerves away, but knowing suguru, he could likely already tell that you're getting antsy.

you lift your head to look at him, hand resting over his chest, and his eyes follow you smoothly. his eyes are focused, lips in a firm line.

"your shirt lifted, and i saw your stomach. i saw some marks. a lot of them, actually," he says, and you still completely, like a deer caught in headlights. his hand presses gently into your back, trying to keep you present with him as his concerns grow worse when he sees you stiffen against him. he frowns, denial still taking hold of him. "(y/n), please tell me those aren't what i think they are," he sighs heavily.

you feel caught.

you knew that suguru would find out at some point or another, but that didn't make this moment any less horrifying for you. it's so quiet in your room, so isolating, no background noise of the girls giggling or the distant buzz of the tv to help weaken the intensity of this point in time. you feel like a spotlight is shining overhead, an audience awaiting eagerly for you to reveal your secrets to the crowd.

suguru sits up slightly, his calmness gradually shifting into terrified incredulity. your eyes are on his face but your gaze is elsewhere, far off. you look uncomfortable, stuck, and no explanation hits suguru's ears.

"(y/n)," he says your name again, looking desperately down at you. "tell me i'm wrong."

you wish you could, you really do, but you can't lie to suguru. he knows you too well, he loves you too much, and to lie to him would be like denying his understanding of who you are.

you feel your skin flush with shame and anxiety, heartbeat likely loud enough for your boyfriend to hear.

you worry. you worry about your boyfriend's judgment, for his reaction. is he going to be angry with you?

"hey," he snaps you out of your daze with the drag of your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes as he stares at you helplessly. you look at him and frown, ashamed that you are the reason he looks so pained. "what's going on?"

the question comes out so delicately, it makes your heart break. a whisp of understanding blends into his tone with empathy, yet a crushing sense of sadness and guilt that overpowers the aforementioned emotions. you struggle to look him in his kind eyes, dreading his consolation that you feel you don't deserve.

"talk to me, (y/n)."

you chew angrily on the inside of your lip, looking down at your finger as you pick at his shirt. he watches your brows furl, an array of different feelings capturing your features. "i was gonna tell you about it..." you murmur, and suguru is floored.

"what?" he breathes out as though he has no more air. you wince, lowering your head. "you-" he pauses, mind jumping from one place to another. "you did that to yourself?"

"i'm sorry, i-" you can feel your throat growing tight. "i've been trying to-"

"to stop?" he tries to finish for you, grasping for any kind of explanation. he's devastated, not only because you've been harming yourself, but because you've been so busy looking after him and the girls that he hasn't noticed. you're the one who always comforts him, but while you've been doing that, you've been aching on the inside and trying to hide it.

you nod meekly when he concludes for you. "i just- i thought the feelings would go away, so i didn't say anything, but they're just getting worse and i don't know what to do anymore and i only feel better after i..."

"(y/n)," he stops you gently, his heart shattering upon listening to you ramble, spilling out the things you have been holding onto for what he assumes to have been so long. "you've been dealing with this all this time?"

"...it's on and off," you confess. "some days are better than others, but..."

suguru finds your words familiar, for he often finds himself in the exact same mindset; feeling functional and confident some days, and others, not so much, but you're the reason why he's able to handle his bad days, yet he hasn't been the same for you for as long as the two of you have been together.

he feels almost sick. he loves you to death. you're his everything, but you've been in pain, and he hasn't seen it.

the way he's looking at you now makes you feel guilty, remorseful, embarrassed. you know you should have told him, but you could never find the strength to. you had always been too scared. and the longer you self-harm, the less you are willing to admit to yourself and to your boyfriend that you have a problem.

you're shocked, though, when suguru's hands tighten over you and his face grows bitter, not with you but with himself. "how could i have been so stupid?" he grumbles, distraught. "and so selfish? all this time, you-"

"no, suguru, please, it's not your fault," you try to tell him.

"i should have seen, baby, i should have noticed something sooner. and all this time, instead you've been looking after me when i should have been looking after you."

"don't say that, suguru," you shift, looking sadly into his eyes. "it's my fault. i'm the one who did this, i'm the one who's to blame. i'm the stupid and selfish one, not you."

suguru's frown deepens, sad eyes looking over your face. you blame and belittle yourself just as easily as suguru does, and he can't stand it. he can't stand to see you like this, to be so aware of hurt before him. he wants, no, he needs to take all that pain away from you. he needs to exorcize it, rid your body of it, cast it away so that you can be happy from now until the rest of time. he needs you to be okay.

"i swear on my life, (y/n)," he begins firmly, eyes boring straight into yours, holding your cheek. "i will do everything in my power to get you through this. whatever it takes, no matter how long it takes, i will be here for you. you're not alone, you understand? you don't need to pretend for me. the girls love you- god i love you so fucking much, and i can't stomach to think of the times you've suffered in silence for my sake. i'm no good if you're no good, baby. i need to know these things, i need to be able to help you."

your nose twitches and your jaw clenches as you look into him, breathing growing unstable. suguru has always been so generous and so loving. he has a way with his words and how safe they make you feel even during your worst moments.

"but what if i can't do it, sugu?" you whisper, his thumb catching the tear that leaks from the corner of your eye. "what if i'm not strong enough to get better?"

"you are strong enough," he affirms confidently. "more than strong enough. and when you feel weak, lean on me. but you have to promise me something."

you nod slowly, mutely, keeping his gaze as he stares at you lovingly, wistfully.

"promise me you won't do it," his words come out as a quick, hasty breath. his brows curl further upward, his desperation plain on his pretty face. "promise me you'll let me know as soon as you want to, but don't hurt yourself again, (y/n). don't do it. i'm begging you. you don't deserve that pain."

though you are unsure if you can even make that promise to yourself, you force yourself to try. for suguru's sake. "okay," you mumble, and he sighs, kissing you softly and pulling you to his chest to whisper sweet nothings as his hands soothe over your stomach and your back.

nanami kento: you twist your fingers around each other as you sit in the living room while kento cooks in the kitchen. you're nervous, more nervous than you have been about anything in your entire life, but you know that you need to rip off this bandaid to approach your boyfriend about such a serious matter.

recently, you find yourself returning to the old habit that you believed to have been relinquished. you thought that you had gotten better, that the urge to self harm had completely gone away after having spent so much time in therapy trying to heal, but recently, you've been feeling down again, useless, angry with yourself. you didn't want to tell nanami at first because you didn't think that your current mood would go beyond feeling depressed, but now that you've started scratching away at your thighs and your arms again, you know that you need to let him know what's going on. you know that you can't go on like this anymore.

but you have no idea what to say.

nanami has been nothing but doting toward you, bringing you flowers every morning, making your meals, ensuring that you remember to schedule doctor's appointments or to keep yourself warm when it's cold out- the man's life revolves around your comfortability, and while you know he would be far more offended if you keep this to yourself, you're horrified to see his reaction when you tell him that you relapsed.

nanami is well aware of your past difficulties with your mental health, and he always tells you that if you are ever in a dark space again, he needs to know. even so, he hasn't been with you when you're like this. the two of you got together after the multiple therapy visits that helped you to shift mindsets, so now that you feel this way again, and while in a relationship with nanami no less, you feel petrified.

you don't even notice when he rounds the kitchen counter to make his way over to the dining table, setting down two plates of food. he looks over and catches the way you stare ahead blankly, lost in thought. you've been doing a lot of that lately and he wonders if something is wrong.

nevertheless, he knows that if something is bothering you, you'll tell him. "sweetheart, dinner's ready," he calls out, and you snap your head over to him, his voice bringing you out of your daze.

you stand wordlessly, movements somewhat robotic, as you slowly make your way over to the table. "thanks, ken," you say softly, lacking your usual energy, and at this point, your partner knows for certain that something is off.

he watches you carefully as you sit down, pushing in your seat for you and pecking your forehead before sitting down next to you. "tell me how your day was," he starts, brushing off his hands and reaching one out to rest one on your knee as he always did at the table. he's prying, you can tell, trying to learn if something that happened throughout the day affected your mood.

your heart is hammering loudly, your eyes stuck to the plate and unable to look up at him. "it was okay," you respond.

"just okay?" he questions and you nod slowly. "did something happen?"

you flicker your eyes up to his brown ones suddenly, caught off guard by the question. he sees the questioning in your eyes and replies accordingly.

"you seem to be a little off, this evening, that's all."

you hum, unsure of how to respond to his observation. you look away again, contemplating. just say it, you think. just tell him, just get it over with.

as you struggle against yourself, nanami only grows more concerned. you don't confirm or deny his comment, and the way you turn away has him wondering if he's done something to hurt you.

"did i do something wrong, darling?" he asks.

you furrow your brows and quickly shut down the idea. "no, no. not at all, ken. it's nothing you did."

"then... there is something troubling you?"

you stall a bit more now that you're on the spot, cursing the fact that kento is always so quick to pick up on the smallest changes in your demeanor.

"(y/n)?" he calls you when you don't answer.

"i have to tell you something," you say abruptly. you see nanami's brows raise ever so slightly, soft brown eyes looking over your face in an attempt to read the situation before you tell him anything. "it's... a lot. so i need you to just... bear with me. and please don't be mad."

nanami's brow twitches slightly as he looks at you, head tilting. he grabs the bottom of his chair and shuffles it closer to you, leaning over slightly and running his hand over where it resides on your knee.

"i could never be mad at you," he tells you earnestly, as though it's the most honest thing he's said in the world. "what's the matter, my love?"

god, he's so sweet to you it makes you physically ill that you have to break this news to him.

"...do you remember when we talked about... um..." your voice fades off, nanami's concentrated gaze only making you more nervous for what his reaction will be.

"take your time," he encourages you, and you only feel worse.

you return to chewing on the inside of your lip anxiously, picking at your shirt under the table. the blonde man beside you is ever so patient, allowing you to gather your thoughts before you verbalize them.

"...um...it's.... about what we talked about a while ago..."

"...and that would be regarding?"

"my... past."

nanami furrows his brows, still not quite understanding. "i apologize, honey, what about your past?"

just rip the bandaid. just rip the bandaid.

"my past with self-harming," you rush out, and the weighty silence that follows is enough to make you want to sink into the floor and let it swallow you whole.

you can feel his eyes burning into you, processing what you just told him, and all you can hear is the pound of your heart in your ears as his hand stills upon your knee.

nanami, on the other hand, is completely shocked by your revelation. while he understands that your relapsing has always been a very realistic possibility, he never wanted to entertain the idea that it could very much so happen- at least, not while he's around.

a sense of fear grips him. are you going to tell him that you relapsed? have you already hurt yourself? has he failed to be there when it happened??

"did you-" he doesn't know what he wants to ask, or how. he hates that he is already jumping to conclusions, but the way you are structuring this conversation with him only leads him to believe the worst. "what happened?"

your head hangs low and your fingers taut on your shirt, lips tightening as they press together. you can hear the disbelief in his voice already, and it breaks you.

"i relapsed."

the brown-eyed man clenches his jaw, falling completely silent once more to not react in a way that may worsen your state. you feel his hand tighten into a fist over top of your leg as he lowers his head, rubbing his eyes with his fingers and inhaling sharply. you feel like a child who is awaiting punishment as you look at his hunched state, a million questions of what he will do next running through your mind.

you hate to do this to him. nanami already has so much on his plate, you know this is the last thing he needs to be stressing over. you wish you could be okay for him. it's not his fault that your mind takes you to these places, and you don't want him to bear responsibility as though it is his doing. even so, you already know that he will because that's the type of man kento is. that's the type of boyfriend kento is.

you wait a few more moments in unbearable muteness. after what feels like forever, kento lifts his head again and rests his chin on his fist, elbow propped on his knee. he's looking to the side, deep in anguished thought. he no longer looks surprised, but rather guilty and frustrated. "when?" is the first thing he asks.

"yesterday," you answer dejectedly, and he almost jerks, his body twitching in reaction. "...are you mad?"

nanami looks at you and his hardened expression immediately softens into something melancholy. "no- no, of course not, (y/n), no," he shakes his head as if the notion is unfathomable, releasing his fist to cup your knee again more securely. "i will never be angry with you for what you're going through. never. no, i'm not mad."

you nod quickly, a meek sense of relief and sorrow taking over you, a weight heaving from your chest upon letting it out. "okay," you whimper.

"come here, my darling," he coaxes you softly, opening and grabbing your hand from under the table delicately to lead you to stand over him. his hand guides over the small of you're back once you're up, leading you to sit on his lap with your back pressed against the table and your legs dangling over one side of his chair.

he holds your forearms gently, looking up at you with sad, understanding eyes. "are you comfortable showing me?" he murmurs so intimately, easing you into his warm consolation.

you don't nod or answer him verbally. instead, you wordlessly roll up the sleeve of your sweater to reveal angry red scratch lines running up your inner forearm. nanami's lips curl in pain as though he can feel the sting of your scars, holding your arm gently for him to look over it.

the sight kills him, though he tries to keep his cool. this isn't about him, it's about you, but goodness, the image of the scars on your beautiful skin makes him hurt like no other pain he's experienced.

"is this all of it?" he asks you, and you shake your head.

"there's some on my thighs," you mutter, looking down.

he nods. "alright," he sighs. "alright."

"...i know you have so much on your plate already... i just-"

"don't. don't even," he stops you, eyes still roaming over your irritated skin. nanami usually commends himself for remaining collected in times of crisis, but he's desperately fighting a part of him that wants to yell out and cry for the sake of you.

he imagines you struggling with this on your own, long before he came into your life, and the thought makes him cringe to picture just how far this must have gotten. these scratches he is surveying now already look bad enough. were the other ones worse?

"(y/n), you know this isn't okay," he looks up at your face and sees how you are avoiding his eyes. you look so small compared to how you usually carry yourself, and it kills him. "to harm yourself like this... you can't treat yourself this way, darling, you know you can't."

"i know," you mumble. "i just had a moment, and now i'm scared that- that i'll go back to how things were."

"as long as i'm with you, you won't. i promise you that," nanami swears. "it was just this one time since you last?"

you nod. "yeah..."

"okay," he nods once more, convincing himself that this is something he can help stop before it gets any more out of hand. "why'd you do it this time, my love? what were you thinking that led you here? is there something i can do differently? is it work? is it a combination of things?"

"i wish it were that easy to explain, kento," you frown, glancing up at him helplessly. "but it's just... it's just a feeling i can't put into words. i can't pinpoint the source. i just... one minute i felt like i couldn't breathe, and the next i was..."

"okay," he repeats, letting you know that you no longer need to say anything more. you don't have to revisit it. he understands. he will take care of it. he'll help you. "okay, darling. how about this. i call off of work tomorrow and we can sit and talk about seeing a new therapist. then we can go out and do whatever you want. just for fun. does that sound okay with you?"

your nose flares and your lips tug to the side as you nod, truly not comprehending how you managed to find a man so patient with you. "yeah, that's good," you say softly, and nanami is at least relieved that you are willing to take further steps into a better direction.

"good," he whispers, rolling the sleeve of your sweater back down so that you no longer feel exposed or feel like you have to think any more about the things you did to yourself when you felt alone. "it's alright, my love. we'll get through it. you'll get past this just like you did last time," he encourages you, moving to caress your shoulder lovingly as you hold his gaze. "it's okay," he tells you again, and you nod weakly, leaning over to plop your head against his shoulder.

nanami holds you to him and exhales, food completely forgotten. his only priority now is to be there for you in the ways he could not before the two of you met.

"thank you for telling me."

choso kamo: choso worships the ground you walk on because he can not fathom a world without, nor the fact that you happened to stumble into his life on a whim. to imagine you hurt is the very worst thing that the man can think of, and the notion that you would hurt yourself is beyond his comprehension.

you aren't actively trying to hide any of your scars when he finds them. the scars are old, faded reminders of the pain that you used to endure and how you attempted to cope with it. while you are now six months free of self harming, the scars remain very present.

choso happens to catch sight of your scars when you are getting changed. he's sitting at the edge of your bed, face flushed, as he watches you blissfully change out of your pajamas and into clothes that you feel are best suited for a walk to the ice cream shop that choso has proposed. it's a bright sunday afternoon, and the brunette is eager to take advantage of the weather with the woman he holds close to his heart as well as his baby brother, who the two of you intend to meet at the store.

you're now dressed in nothing but a large white shirt and underwear, your legs bare as you strut around the space freely. choso's jade eyes follow you as you walk, completely obsessed with the way you move. he could watch you do the most mundane things for hours, which he truthfully tends to do anyway.

your back is to him before you round the bed, disappearing into the bathroom momentarily before coming back into the living room. choso's eyes still don't leave you, tracing over your face down your figure and finally to the front of your bare legs.

he falters, and his brows draw together when he catches dark marks littering over your inner thighs, only revealing themselves with the movement of your limbs as you walk.

the pale-skinned man grows confused and slightly concerned. he's never seen those marks on you before, and simultaneously, never on anyone else he knows either. he finds them to be a strange form of battle scars, especially due to the placement, the small size, and the sheer number of them. some of them take different shapes too, blurring together or over each other, while some stand out alone. they almost look like burns, but it's hard for choso to really tell.

you proceed about your business, searching through your drawer to pull out a skirt, when choso speaks up.

"love? what are those?" he asks curiously, perplexed.

you turn over your shoulder, shutting your drawer closed with your foot. "hm? what's what, cho?" you ask him, unsure of what he's referring.

choso, still slightly flustered by the vision of your half exposed body, nods his head into the direction of your lower legs. "those," he says again, and you look down, still lost.

you lift your foot momentarily, checking to see if something is stuck under or on top of it. you then survey the rest of your body, searching for something out of the ordinary. "uhhh," you trail off. "i'm not sure what you mean, baby. you're talking about my legs?"

you are far too desensitized to and familiar with the image of your scars to process that choso has never seen them before. the brunette, however, is unsatisfied, wanting an answer that you have yet to provide.

he leans forward, lifting his hand and pointing his finger directly to a patch of dark spots peeking out from your inner thighs. you follow his gaze, eyes landing on the culprits, and your shoulders drop in realization. "oh," you say shortly, choso retracting his hand.

he looks at you innocently, awaiting a response while you try to figure out how to explain this sight to him.

you don't want to worry him, but knowing choso, if you lead with the fact that these scars are there because you inflicted them onto yourself, he would have a heart attack, failing to find reason to your words.

even so, you know choso only wants to understand you as much as you desire to understand him. he wants to see the ugly parts as well as the beautiful parts of you that he is so drawn to, and if you hide it from him, that would only create a rift in your budding relationship that you aren't entirely too keen on creating.

you want him to know you, all of you, and these scars are as much of a part of you as the bones in your body and the blood pumping through your skin.

they're a sign of what you've been through, what you've overcome, and who you are now. they're important, and choso should know why they are there.

"that's a good question," you sigh, putting your skirt on the bed as you move to sit next to him at the edge of it. choso immediately turns to you, glancing over the marks shamelessly now that he has a better view of them.

"did someone do that to you?" is the first thought that crosses his mind, red drifting into his vision at the mere idea that someone has hurt you in such an intimate way.

"...no," you shake your head, lifting one leg up onto the bed, brushing his own, as the other dangles. "i put them there. a while ago," you explain honestly.

choso scrunches his brows tighter, eyes flickering up to your face then back down to try to identify what exactly the marks are. "what are they?" he repeats.

you exhale, puckering your lips as you prepare yourself for this difficult conversation. "they're burns, cho. from a match," you tell him.

now, the half-curse is incredibly confused. burn marks? on your lovely skin? in a place where only you could reach? put there by yourself?

you burned yourself?

"i don't understand," he frowns, shifting to face you better. "why would you..."

"i used to be in a really bad place, baby," you purse your lips, watching as his face contorts with consternation as he comes to understand that you purposefully harmed yourself.

"what do you mean? bad enough to do this to yourself?" he sounds mortified, his voice growing ragged the moment his tone picks up volume.

his pupils, moments ago blown pools of affection, are now shrunken dots of shock.

"don't look at me like that," you beg him, placing your hand over his own. his eyes snap to the sudden contact, then back to you with concern. "sometimes, when certain people are suffering from depression, or anxiety, or just overall bad thoughts and they feel like they have to... break out, or maybe punish themselves in a sense... they resort to hurting themselves."

choso gulps, lump forming in his throat as he listens to you with shaking eyes. "and that's what you did? you felt like you needed to punish yourself?"

"it's hard to explain to someone on the outside. i know it sounds... crazy, but it was the only way i knew how to cope with everything that i was dealing with."

"why didn't you come to me instead?" he immediately asks and you give him a sad, knowing look.

"because, we didn't know each other then, cho?"

"i don't care," he shakes his head, eyes keeping yours. "you should have found me."

the idea brings a hint of a smile to your lips, choso's sweetness warming your heart. "i didn't know who you were, baby, that would have been like begging a stranger for help."

"so?" he scoffs. "i loved you the moment i met you. it wouldn't have made any difference to me.

you sigh again, bringing your other hand to rest over top of your boyfriend's as you smile softly at him in an attempt to get him to calm down.

the panic is still written all over his face as he takes in your smile, the vision somehow only making him sadder. you're so gorgeous, inside and out, and that smile is only scratching the surface of your unending beauty.

to know now that your radiance was once outweighed by the torment in your mind encouraging you to harm yourself... well, it makes choso want to ball his eyes out. it makes him want to confront the physical manifestation of your past traumas and pummel it into the ground, bashing its head in for all the hurt that it has caused you.

"i ended up just fine, cho," you reassure him.

"why didn't you say anything before? were you trying to keep it from me?"

"no, baby, i just didn't think to tell you. i kinda forgot about them," you say, and that comment alone makes choso soften his features slightly.

"you forgot..." he recites your words. "does that mean you're better now?"

you hum in affirmation, smiling warmly. "it's been a while since i've hurt myself or done anything like that. i got through it. i'm okay now, these scars are just a permanent reminder of the past."

his frame sags slightly with relief, brows lifting as he looks over you with a blank expression. "i think i understand," he mumbles, looking back down at the marks. "i'm sorry you ever had to go through any of that."

"it's not your fault. you weren't there."

"i wish i had been. so i could have helped more. i know you said you're better, but maybe if i had been there i could've stopped you from hurting yourself at all."

"i wouldn't put that responsibility onto yourself, cho. it was my responsibility."

"still," his brows arch slightly. "i would have stuck with you every second of every day to make sure that you never had a second alone to do any of it. i wouldn't have let you, and i won't let you now." a thought seems to pop into his head when he finishes his last sentence. "you wouldn't go back to trying to hurt yourself, (y/n), would you?

you exhale. "i mean, i'd like to think i wouldn't, but sometimes these things aren't linear," you admit. "i just know that for now, i'm okay."

"the second you're not, though, you'd tell me?"

"yes. i would."

"you promise?"

"i promise, baby."

"okay," he sighs. "because i don't think i'd be able to function knowing you're upset."

the brown haired man leans over, carefully holding your thigh as he looks over your marks again, no longer flustered by your bare skin but entirely focused on the severity of your burns. you look down at him, hands slipping from his own as he surveys you closely like he's a doctor.

"they don't hurt anymore, do they?"

"nope. just scarred."

choso looks at you for a bit longer in silence before looking back up at you from his hunched state. "can i kiss them?"

you laugh softly, hand falling into his hair at you gaze at him with your heart aglow. "you want to kiss them?"

he nods. "so they can feel loved."

you coo, thumb smoothing over his temple as his eyes swell with adoration right before you. "of course you can."

toji fushiguro: toji is absolutely no stranger to scars. he's a human man with no cursed energy, having had his fair share of close calls on risky jobs that have left him with slashes over his calves, small pierces in his flesh, and cracked callouses. then, of course, there's the scar on his mouth bestowed upon him by his oh-so-loving family, which will be stuck with for the rest of his life.

scars follow toji like moths follow a flame, and he's numb to it. he believes that they are a part of life, both physically and mentally, especially with the kind of life that he leads. whether the wound is a large one or a small one he can barely see, he accepts scars as a part of who he is-

who he is.

while toji likes to parade around with a hardened exterior decorated with faded, scabbing wounds, that is something he deems fit for him and him only. he doesn't care what other people do with their lives as long as they leave him the hell out of it, but for the love of all the money that he has acquired over the years slaughtering sorcerers, he will be damned if he finds a single, tiny little scratch on your body.

scars are for toji, not for you, his darling little girlfriend and the day he finds out someone has hurt you enough to leave behind a mark is the day he's putting several bullets into the culprit's head.

toji's worst fear, though he hardly discusses it, is losing you and watching you get hurt. god, he practically lives to protect you, and to feel as though he has failed to do so would wound him detrimentally. he's a tough guy, but you make him so soft, and admittedly he wouldn't want to be soft for anyone but you. you're his rock, his little hot head, and he loves you more than life itself.

if you're hurt, he will lose it.

therefore, when he finds out that you're self-harming? oh, he's on the verge of losing his fucking mind.

he does a double-take when you step out of his room and into the kitchen with a towel wrapped around your body, his eyes widening and his brows arching immediately.

now, toji knows your body inside and out. he's explored every inch, he knows every crook, every crevice, every mark, every texture, and he has never once in the six months you have been together seen the red lines over your inner wrist.

he watches you with twisted lips as you grab an orange from the counter before walking back into his direction. you're almost back into the room when toji calls you.

"uh uh," he stops you, and you pause, turning over your shoulder and purposefully moving your left wrist to press into your towel.

"what?"

"come here," he orders and you give him a strange look.

"why?"

"i wanna see somethin'. come here."

you're quick to snap back easily with your own sarcastic retort, clearly in a foul mood over something. "if you want to fuck, can you wait until i'm fully dried off and after i finish this?' you hold up the orange in your other hand, a perturbed look on your face.

"i don't want to fuck, (y/n), i want you to come here."

toji's voice comes out sternly, and on the verge of anger. you survey his posture, his arms leaning over his legs as he cranes to look at you with a suspicious, firm expression. you can tell that he's serious, and a sudden sense of fear overtakes you that you mask with annoyance.

you don't say a word when you slowly walk up to him, crossing your arms over your chest to conceal your wrist, the hand holding the orange tucked under your elbow.

"what is it?"

toji holds out his palm. "give it."

"...my orange?"

"put it in my hand."

you huff, carefully maneuvering your arm around to keep your inner wrist pointed toward your body as you bring forward the orange and plop it aggressively into his hand. toji watches your other arm the entire time, taking clear note of how you refuse to let your wrist show, and you know you're fucked.

the green-eyed man tosses the orange to the side of the couch and holds out his large palm again, eying you intensely. you look down at him with a frustrated frown, shrugging. "i don't have anymore oranges."

"don't be cute, doll."

"what? do you want my hand?"

"you know i want your hand."

you roll your eyes, raising the hand you had held your orange with when he stops you. "not that one. the other one."

your heart pangs, shaking your entire body as he looks to you expectantly. how the fuck had he managed to notice the scar on your wrist so quickly?

the moment you hesitate, he knows that what he saw earlier is something to be concerned about. you normally never hide yourself from toji, and the way you go about hiding your arm now is defensive enough to raise several brows. he knows you're not dumb, too. he knows that you know exactly what he wants to see.

"(y/n)." he cocks a brow, the severity of his demeanor only making you more uneasy.

he can't see. he can't see what you've just done. he'll hate you. he'll look at you like you're crazy.

"what if i don't want to give you my hand?"

"then i'll just grab it for you, and i don't think either of us wants to go there."

you release a trembling, aggravated breath. you can't get away with anything when toji's around, and while you ponder having chosen to get an orange later, you know deep down somewhere you wanted toji to see. you wanted him to help you, which is why you walked out of that bathroom half an hour after having put those scars on your arm.

"hand, now."

you turn your eyes away with a grunt, slapping your wrist into his hand facing downward. toji is quick to whip it upside once he has a grip on you, and his eyes seem to freeze over the sight of three fresh slices on your upper forearm up close.

his jaw clenches, then unclenches, then clenches and unclenches again as his lips twitch and his eyes adjust to the vision. you're hurt. not only are you hurt, but it looks as though you've recently been hurt. you've hurt yourself.

toji has a hard time figuring out what to do. he's not good with things like this, but he knows that seeing you with scars on your arm is quite literally about to set him off. he always imagined having to defend you from others who seek to hurt you, but never having to defend you from yourself.

he can't fathom it. he's struggling, the muscles in his eyes are twitching, and he can't handle it. he can feel his heart begin to race, unsure if he is angry or scared or mortified or devastated.

there are three lines in your arm. bright red. staring right back up at him.

and you put them there?

no way, you put them there.

but you did. clearly you did, or else you wouldn't be looking so guilty right now.

but when did you? how did you? why did you?

he doesn't know what to think. he doesn't know what to say. he swore he'd always protect you, but how does he even begin to try to protect you from yourself?

"are you out of your mind?"

the question leaves him rather calmly, a low inquiry that you are unsure is meant to be directed as an insult or a genuine ask.

you can't look at him. you don't even know what to think yourself. it had all happened so fast while you were in the bathroom, before you got into the shower.

one minute, you were staring angrily in the mirror, cursing your reflection as your wicked thoughts sprouted grubby arms and guided you toward the pair of brow scissors that you kept in your makeup cabinet on the left side of toji's bathroom.

you wanted to feel in control of the disdain you felt lurking within your soul. you wanted to feel something for fear that you would never be able to feel again, and before you knew it, you were dragging the exposed blade over your skin.

"d'you wanna explain why i'm looking at these cuts on your arm, (y/n)?"

and you know, you know that it's a bad sign when toji uses your name instead of the plethora of pet names he normally elects to call you: doll, princess, mama, girl, pretty baby- anything but your actual government name, and when you hear it roll from his tongue under these circumstances, you can only imagine what's going through his head.

you shift on your bare feet, looking down at your toes. "dunno," is all you say, and toji scoffs in disbelief.

"you don't know?" he emphasizes. "that's all you have to say?"

"if you wanna embarrass me, go ahead, toji. seriously, i'm tired."

"what the fuck makes you think i wanna embarrass you? i wanna know why the fuck my girlfriend walked out of the bathroom with cuts on her arm!"

you rip your arm away immediately when he yells, storming back off into his room and slamming the door behind you.

toji jumps up, suddenly frazzled. he doesn't want you alone in there. he doesn't want you out of his sight.

the navy haired man moves quickly to his door and grabs the handle, only to find it locked. he jiggles it harshly and bangs on the door. beginning to panic. "open the door, (y/n)," he shouts, meeting no reply.

little does he know, your back is pressed against the other side as tears crash over your cheeks. you don't know how you expected toji to react, but the look on his face just now and his tone of voice was enough to send you running off.

you feel ashamed, weak. you shouldn't have gone out there at all. you should have waited until you were dressed, discarding the whole idea of letting toji see what you did so that you could suffer in silence without his help, because what help could he truly provide anyway?

toji's a tough man, but he's soft for you. he would stand in front of a moving train for you. he would sacrifice his life for you, so when you don't answer, he imagines the worst.

"open the door," he says again, weaker, tugging desperately at the handle though he knows it won't budge. he knows he could break the door down, and he's prepared to until he hears you sniff amdist his pounding. he immediately stops, face dropping.

fuck.

this is bad.

he knew it was before, but for some reason, it's only now registering how bad this is.

you're in pain. you hurt yourself because you're in pain and you need him, but he doesn't know how to help you. he's never dealt with anything like this before.

his hand slides from the door and to his side, forehead knocking against the door though his other hand remains tight on the handle. he just needs to see you.

"princess," he mutters defeatedly. "don't make me kick this door in."

silence.

"please," he softens even more. "please, (y/n), let me in."

the house falls quiet once more and you give in. you feel so lost, and the only person who can at least comfort you, in his own way, is toji.

you slowly turn to unlock the door and step back as toji opens it swiftly, staring down at you with wide eyes and at least relieved to see that you haven’t done any further harm to your body.

he does, however, see your tears.

his face tightens as he bends down to scoop you up in an instant, your legs and arms tightening around him as you snivel into his shoulder, his large palms sliding over your body. he feels your small body tremble against him as he walks the two of you over to the edge of his bed, sitting down as you cling to him like a koala.

"i dunno what happened," you whimper into him. "i dunno why i did it. i dunno. i dunno."

you say it over and over, your voice as broken as toji feels listening to you.

he wishes he knew what to do. he wishes he was better equipped to handle this, but never in his worst nightmares did he dream that he would find you here, his fiery girl, the love of his life.

he's been so busy trying to protect you from the outside world that he hasn't even thought about the things that could harm you from within.

he stays silent as you babble to him through tears, holding you just like he knew how. he doesn't want to picture those scars on you. he doesn't want to picture what led you to put them there. he just wants to hold you, to at least let you know that he's here and he's not going anywhere. he may not know how to help, but he knows how to love you and he hopes that's enough.

"i'm not letting you out of my sight, y'hear?" he says gruffly into your ear and you nod meekly. "i'm not letting this happen ever again. not as long as i'm alive."

he mentally swears to rid your house and his of any and every sharp object he can find and to throw it all in a safe as you sink into him.

toji knows how to protect and toji knows how to fight. though he's more acclimated with fighting others, if he has to fight to protect yourself from your innermost demons, then hell, he will find a way to do just that.

sukuna ryomen: lord help you and lord help anyone within a fifty-mile radius when the king of curses discovers that you've been harming yourself.

sukuna is not at all very good with his words or his expressions of affirmations. he is a being of action, and he believes that he has proven his love for you enough by simply allowing you to be in his presence longer than anyone else ever has or ever will.

at first, when he sees a scar or two on your leg, he thinks its just an accident or a result of you being clumsy. then, three more pop up, then five, then far more than he's even willing to count, and he decides that this scar pattern is somehow intentional.

he knows no one else has marked them onto you because he is prepared to kill anyone who comes too close, especially if they have ill intentions. if you were in danger at someone else's hand, he would be the first to know and the person meaning you harm would be dead before they could even think about touching you.

therefore, when he sees that the only person normally within your company is him, uraume, and yourself, the process of elimination leads him to you.

he goes about confronting you rather harshly, as well, for he knows no other way to be.

you're out in the garden of his large residence one day, soaking up the sun, when you hear familiar, loud stomps heading your way from behind.

you turn around and squint to peer up at sukuna, who is standing over you with a menacing glare in his crimson eyes. you don't necessarily find this out of the ordinary, so you greet him as usual.

"hi, kuna," you say sweetly. "you good?"

he is not good. not at all, so he gets straight to the point. "come inside, woman."

you quirk a brow. "why? i just got out here?"

"do not question me."

"can it wait, like, fifteen minutes?"

"do you wish to live in the next fifteen minutes?"

you sigh, entirely too used to sukuna's facade of cruelty around you. you know by now that the king of curses would never dare to hurt you.

"i do intend, to live, yes," you smirk.

"then you will come inside as i have demanded."

"no, sukuna. i want to stay out here for a bit. i've been inside all day."

the pink haired man fumes, teeth grinding together in agitation. he doesn't want to delay this conversation any further than it has already been delayed, but of course, you choose to be difficult.

"very well, we will do this out here," he growls and you smile.

"good."

you don't prepare yourself for when sukuna grabs the back of your chair and whips out around to face him with the unpleasant screech of the legs against the cobblestone. you wince, then retract your face when sukuna lowers his to stare at you from mere centimeters away, one of his arms grasping to push up the lose leg of your shorts up to reveal the set of scars littering your skin.

your eyes go wide, his movements too quick for you to process all at once.

"are these your doing?" he hisses and you gulp.

"s-sukuna-"

"i did not ask for you to say my name. i asked if these scars are your doing."

his eyes are piercing, striking directly into yours. "what are you talking about?" you whisper shakily.

"are we going to pretend like you're an idiot now?" he snarls. he's so mean, but he feels it's for good reason. your body has been tainted, and for some reason, you have been doing the tainting. he needs to know why.

you shake your head weakly. "no..."

"then answer me properly. i will not repeat myself a third time."

you bite down on your lower lip, heart ringing in your ears. you didn't even know sukuna paid attention to you enough to catch wind of something like this.

"yes... i did this," you finally tell him, and sukuna is livid.

"and why would you be doing something so foolish? scars are not something you are meant to give yourself, human."

"please don't be a dick, sukuna, not right now."

"i am asking a perfectly reasonable question and i expect you to answer it," he glowers. "now."

"you wouldn't understand if i told you," you frown and he clicks his tongue.

"stop assuming things of me before i lock you inside of my room where you can not escape or even fathom doing something like this to yourself again under my supervision."

you curl your brows, frowning up at your boyfriend. "if i tell you, you'll call me foolish."

"because this is foolish," he grunts. "but i will not if my doing so will get you to fucking explain yourself."

you shake your head, looking down and contemplating before deciding to just get it over with so that he can stop putting you on the spot. "sometimes i just feel shitty," is all you elect to say.

but sukuna is hardly satisfied with this response. "so you choose to inflict pain upon yourself instead of calling upon me?"

"i told you, you wouldn't understand," you say. "it's not something i can easily explain to you either."

sukuna narrows his eyes. "fine."

he lowers himself to grab you legs and throw you over his shoulder. you squeal, grabbing onto his back as he begins to walk you back into his home and toward his room. "sukuna!" you kick your legs around. "put me down!"

"no. you're coming with me, and you're going to sit and talk me through every single thought that has crossed your little mind to make you think that injuring yourself in such a way is tolerable within the walls of my residence. then after that, you'll come with me everywhere i go from this point on."

"what?!" you exclaim from where you hang upside down. "I don't wanna go everywhere you go," you wine.

"too bad. you should have thought of that before you decided to harm yourself."

sukuna is horrible with words, and far more horrible with expressing his concerns, but despite your temporary discomfort with how he goes about approaching the situation, you can still see in the pinch of his brow and the stiffness of his posture, combined with his refusal to let you go without a proper explanation, that he cares very deeply for your wellbeing.

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rafesangelita · 2 months ago

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⊹₊⟡⋆♡ cowboy!rafe always snuck into farmer's!daughter!reader's room to give her a goodnight kiss.. but what happens when their innocent little kiss turns into something much more?

warnings: sweet fluff, flirty banter, brief flashback, daddy kink lol, sneaking around, unprotected sex, dirty talk, rafe covering your mouth, crying, overstimulation

a/n: i’ll be opening req’s soon! lately here i’ve been wanting to get out some of my own prompts since over half of my works are all req’s.. but i’m excited to see what you girlies send me! find more of farmer’s!daughter!reader and cowboy!rafe here <3

wc: 1.2k

“open up, doll face.” you sat up in bed, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as rafe lightly tapped on your window. he made you so giddy, you scrambled up from the warmth of your sheets, unlocking the hatch before helping him climb in. “i thought you weren’t coming..” you whispered, pouting up at him as he snickered. “y’gotta have faith in me, sweetheart. when have i missed a goodnight’s kiss?” rafe cupped your face, both of you smiling against each other’s lips before melting into one another.

you always felt so warm and fuzzy inside when you and rafe got to share your secret little moments together, the simplicity of just being together without having to worry about someone catching you two made both of your hearts swell. rafe knew how to sweep you off your feet with a single kiss, a string of giggles tumbling from your mouth as he not-so-quietly threw you onto your bed. “rafe!” you scolded him, your heart beating in your ears as he slotted himself between your thighs.

“my daddy is next door! what if he hears..” you slapped his chest playfully, the man above you arching a brow. “daddy? i thought i was your daddy.” your cheeks heated in embarrassment when you recalled the quickie you two had in the barn not too long ago. rafe had you bent over a hay bale, his thrusts making you unable to speak until he asked you the golden question.

“hmmph! fuckin’ say it. tell me what i wanna hear, who’s your fuckin’ daddy?”

taking your bottom lip between your teeth, rafe smiled as he shook his head down at you. “you just thought about it, didn’t you?” snapping you out of your flashback daze, you laughed when he leaned down and pressed a wet kiss to the column of your throat. he smelled like soap, the slight stubble on his cheeks tickling your skin. as if your hips had a mind of their own, you grinded your clothed cunt against rafe’s thigh, a whimper leaving your lips at the lack of friction.

“hey,” rafe cupped your tits through your flimsy night top, “you thought i wasn’t coming tonight, right? that’s what you said.” your eyebrows knitted in confusion before a gasp slipped from your mouth. “yes..” rafe trailed a hand underneath the waistband of your sleep shorts. “so why don’t you have any panties on?” you froze, eyes flickering down to where rafe ran a finger between your folds. keening, you couldn’t help the moan from leaving your lips.

rafe stared at you for a moment, his eyes growing dark as he clamped a hand over your mouth. “i’ve been thinking about this pussy all day. ‘think you can stay quiet for me?” of course you couldn’t.. and rafe knew that. you stared at him with wide eyes, butterflies fluttering in your tummy when he took himself out of his pants. “i mean it. we don’t want your old man chasing me down with that shotgun of his, now do we?” you shook your head, your eyes fluttering shut when you felt the head of his cock prod at your entrance.

you shrieked, his hips rolling into yours as he slowly bottomed out inside your cunt. if it wasn’t for rafe’s hand muffling your scream you’re sure both of you would be in deep trouble right now. rafe rested his head on your pillow, a shaky breath leaving his lips as he started thrusting. feeling his weight on top of you like this had easily become your favorite thing, the closeness of it all made your heart sing. “fuck, i could never get used to this.. ‘feels like the first time all the time.” he grunted.

you held onto his wrist, your thighs hugging his waist as he kissed the side of your face. “taking me so fuckin’ good, you were made for me, yeah?” you whined, your eyes watering as rafe continuously hit that soft spot inside of you. your headboard started hitting the wall, a smirk gracing your boyfriend’s features. “rafe!” you whispered, tearing his hand away from your face. “s-slow down!” you attempted to push him away while simultaneously trying to keep your noises to yourself.

rafe picked up his pace, wrapping a hand around your throat. “can’t..” you shook your head, your chest rising and falling as the knocking of your headboard only got louder. rafe cursed under his breath when you cried out, working fast to get you turned over so he could push your head into the pillows. “what did i tell you?!” he scolded, landing a smack to your ass. you didn’t have any time to react to the stinging sensation on your backside, your orgasm washing over you once rafe started stroking your clit.

you fisted the sheets underneath you, biting down on your lip as white hot pleasure blinded your vision. rafe made no attempt to soothe you, instead he wrapped your hair around his fist, pulling you up as he nipped at the sensitive skin in the curve of your neck. “sweetheart?” you gasped when your father’s voice sounded from the other side of your bedroom door. you cleared your throat, frozen in place as your door knob rattled. “answer him.” rafe spoke in your ear, his tone sending a shiver down your spine.

“what?!” you stammered, heavy tears rolling down your cheeks as rafe continued to rub hard circles on your sensitive bundle of nerves. “answer him or i’ll make you scream.” you wanted to shoot a sassy ‘you already did’, but you didn’t dare chance it. your chin wobbled, your mouth falling open in a silent moan. “y-yes?!” you called out, glaring at rafe over your shoulder when the sound of his hips slamming into you bounced off of the walls. “you alright in there?” you bit the back of your hand, your head falling weakly.

“is this a girl thing or somethin’, should i call your aunt?” your cheeks heated, a chuckle sounding from the man behind you. “no! i’m o-okay!” rafe pulled your hair again, his lips close to your ear as he whispered the dirtiest things you’ve ever heard. “what would your pops think, huh? catching his perfect little angel getting fucked like this..” your eyes rolled to the back of your head, your knees slipping out from under you when rafe pushed you flat on your sheets.

“alright.. goodnight!” you ignored your father’s voice, the only thing your brain allowing you to process was rafe cumming inside of you, his fingers digging harshly into the flesh of your hips. “shittt,” he hissed, “son of a— fuck!” it was his turn to cover his mouth, his muscles constricting as you practically milked him for all he had. you reveled in the feeling of his hot cum filling you up, the thick ropes still connecting you two even after he pulled out.

you sighed, both you and rafe panting in the small space that was your room. “you okay, doll?” rafe kneeled down at your side, pressing a small kiss to the corner of your lips. blinking at him, you nodded before pulling him next to you. “it’s really late..” you yawned, glancing at the little clock on your bedside table. “i know.” rafe grumbled. there was nothing he hated more than having to leave you like this. wrapping his arms around your waist, rafe waited until you fell asleep before slipping out of your window again.

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mggslover · 25 days ago

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Between the lines

In which Spencer crosses paths with the woman he's been dreaming about. Their undeniable attraction turns fantasy into reality.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader Genre: smut (18+) x fluff Content warnings: lots of build up, perv!spence, lovesick!spence, lots of flirting, teasing, sex toys, p in v sweet sensual sex Word count: 4,6k A/n: part two of through thin walls! you can read this as a standalone, but it's a short one so give it a try ;)

It had been three weeks since Spencer last had a nightmare. Ever since his neighbor—a woman he had yet to meet—moved in next door, his nights had been calm, peaceful. Sleep had become something he looked forward to, but it wasn’t just sleep itself. It was the moments before, the quiet waiting in anticipation that became part of his routine.

Every time he came home from an exhausting case, he would crawl into bed and lean back against the headboard, his body settling as he awaited a movement from the apartment next to him. Feeling a sense of relief when her sweet moans would slip through the thin wall.

It didn’t take Spencer long to find a pattern in her routine. On weekdays, it was quick, urgent. The soft moans would rise, then fall—until Thursday. Thursdays were different. He could tell by the muffled groans and the frustrated sighs, that she was unable to find the release she so desperately sought. She would let out a final huff, signalling Spencer to stop his movements.

He was aware that he had no obligation towards the woman, but he found no pleasure in the act of touching himself when he knew she wasn’t enjoying herself. These days left a toll on him. Irritated by the fact that he couldn’t just knock on her door with the suggestion of helping her out. But luckily, there were still the weekends. The weekends were good. Her sessions stretched longer, her pleasure unraveling slowly but intensely. Spencer never managed to keep up alongside her, but he couldn’t help continuing to listen as he laid down with his eyes closed. Savoring each breath, each moment as he found peace in the fact that she felt satisfied by the end of the night.

It wasn’t every day that they would share intimate moments like these. On times she didn’t indulge, Spencer found comfort in the other sounds of her life. Hearing her television hum in the background, not loud enough to make out the words, but her occasional laughter—or her soft humming along with a song—was enough to remind him she was there, just beyond the walls.

It was strange, to feel such familiarity with someone he had never spoken to, someone who’s name he didn’t even know, but somehow Spencer had grown very attached to her presence. He often wondered what the rest of her life looked like. Making it a game to fill in the blanks with the inkling of behaviour he had.

One thing he could confidently profile was her loneliness. Whether that was by choice or by circumstance, or a mixture of both, he didn’t know. Only that he has never heard another voice besides hers, not even the typical hellos and goodbyes one would make on a phone call. He hoped she was settling in well, wishing he could bring her the comfort she has given him since her arrival.

It was noon, on a rare day where Spencer didn’t have to go to the office. But Spencer wasn’t the type to sit still on his free days. He grabbed his saddlebag from the leather chair next to the door, whistling a tune under his breath as he looked for his keys. He unlocked the door with a quick turn of the handle, but before he could step out, a yelp echoed from the hallway.

“I’m sor-,” he froze mid-apology, the automatic reply getting stuck in his throat as he processed the familiar sound. That gasp—it was embedded in his memory, a sound he could recognize anywhere, even though the circumstances were completely different. His cheeks flushed, heat spreading across his face, and he found himself afraid to tilt his head, knowing who he would face.

“It’s okay, don’t worry! I should’ve looked out.” The voice apologized.

Spencer’s mind scrambled. He wanted to tell her that he should be the one apologizing, that it was his fault for slamming the door open without considering who might be walking through the shared hallway. But all he could manage was a strangled silence, his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth.

He swallowed, forcing himself to look up. His stomach fluttered and his pupils blew wide as he made eye contact with her. She was more beautiful than anything beyond his wildest dreams. He was almost ashamed for picturing her any less than she is. He felt flustered as his mind began piecing her face and body together with the sounds that he’s been eavesdropping on for the past couple of weeks.

He realized how awkward he was making the situation when she looked up at him with big eyes, clearly waiting for some kind of response.

“Did you like my cookies?” She asked, breaking the quiet, her voice a little hesitant but genuine.

Spencer blinked, surprised at the question, his mind struggling to catch up. "Cookies?" he repeated, brows knitting together in confusion.

The girl noticed his expression and rushed to explain. “I brought you cookies,” she said, her hands moving slightly, as if trying to emphasize the story. “When I first moved in here.”

Spencer stayed quiet, getting her to elaborate further. “You weren’t home. I left them on your doorstep,” she continued, a little sheepishly.

He nodded, letting out a small sigh as he made the connection. “It’s my neighbor,” he pointed to the door to the left of him with a vague sweep of his hand, the gesture almost apologetic. “The other one. Miss Cavanaugh. She has a habit of stealing.”

Her eyes widened in surprise, and her mouth hung slightly open at the casualty in which he mentioned this fact.

“Oh no, don’t worry! she won’t steal from you.” He quickly corrected, raising his hand to wave off any concern. “Well, she might but it’s not likely she’d, like, break into your apartment. That would be a criminal act—breaking and entering—which is a felony in all 50 states. Actually, it's a federal offense in certain circumstances.” He glances off to the side for a moment, thinking, then gestures with a loose hand.

“My point is, she’s more of a, uh, casual thief, if that makes sense? Like, you know, she might nab food or a basket or something left outside, but the odds of her actually coming into your apartment are really low. Statistically speaking, this building has an impressively low crime rate for DC, especially for this price range. It’s safer than 75.3% of comparable buildings in the area.”

His brows furrowed together at the end of his sentence, as if his brain just caught up with his words. “I’m rambling, aren’t I?”

The corners of her lips lifted, a soft but genuine smile lighting her face.

“That’s good to know. I didn’t do that much research when I moved in here.” She held out her hand, introducing herself.

Her hand was smaller than his, and without thinking, he clasped it gently between both of his, needing to know if he indeed had the connection with her he assumed he had. The touch sent a jolt through him, feeling the spark of electricity he was hoping for. He surprised himself with how much he didn’t want to let go and, more so, how she didn’t pull away.

"I’m Doctor Spencer Reid," he said, his voice softer now, tinged with a genuine awe as he looked at her.

Her eyebrows rose in curiosity. “Doctor, huh? Good to know there’s one next door in case I drop dead.”

“Oh, uh—” His words came in a tumble as he rushed to explain. “Not a medical doctor. I’m with the FBI. I specialize in criminal behavior. So if you were to, say, die by murder, I’d be the one—uh, the one investigating it.”

The words hung in the air for a beat longer than he intended, and before he could stop himself, he added, “Not that I want you to die, or—uh, be murdered. That’s… that’s not what I meant at all. I mean, if there was even a chance someone wanted to hurt you, I’d make sure to stop it before it happened, but—”

Her laugh, bright and airy, caught him off guard. She then tilted her head slightly, studying him in a way that made her seem like the profiler.

“I’ll see you around, Spencer,” she finally said, her voice teasing but kind. His cheeks flushed at the way his name rolled off of her tongue.

Before he could respond, she turned on her heel and walked off. Spencer couldn’t tear his eyes away from her, her presence lingering even after her figure disappeared down the hall. He stood frozen in the doorway, his heart racing from the exchange.

When he finally stepped back inside, he closed the door and leaned heavily against it, letting out a groan.

He’d forgotten all about the plans he previously had. Instead, his thoughts swirled around her—even more curious about his neighbor than he was before. As he replayed their brief exchange, one thing became startlingly clear: he needed to see her again.

It was like faith heard him. Later, on that evening, Spencer stepped into the laundromat of the apartment complex, the soft hum of dryers and the faint smell of detergent filling the air. He just finished taking his laundry out of the dryer when he saw her—standing at one of the machines, pulling her clothes out with an ease that made the mundane task look almost elegant.

Spencer moved toward her, a little too quickly, and nearly bumped into a man coming the other way. “Sorry,” he mumbled, placing his basket down beside hers.

Her eyes flicked up, catching his gaze immediately. The air between them shifted, filled with an undeniable spark.

“Hi, Doc,” she greeted with a warm smile. “We meet again.”

“Hi,” Spencer managed, his voice a little breathless.

He glanced down at the pile of laundry. “Sock day?” he asked with a smirk, genuinely curious.

She chuckled softly. “More like underwear day in general. I like to stick to a schedule.”

“Me too!” Spencer eagerly responded, excited to have something in common with her.

She sighed as she held up a sock, contemplating its mate. “Underwear day is the worst though. It’s going to take me hours to match these.”

Spencer gave a quiet laugh. “I gave up on that a while ago.” He casually rolled up his pants, revealing mismatched socks—one green with avocados, the other purple with yellow stripes. “It’s more fun this way.”

She crouched down to get a better look, her eyes scanning the colorful mismatched pair. Spencer bit down on his lip. The act was so innocent, but his thoughts wandered, imagining what it might be like if she were kneeling for a different reason.

Jesus, it feels like I swapped brains with Derek.

He cleared his throat, wiping his clammy hands on his pants. She noticed, getting back on her feet, though she didn’t seem embarrassed. If anything, her eyes twinkled with excitement.

“It is more fun that way,” she agreed. “You see a serious guy like you, dressed up all neat and then, poof, funky socks. Like magic.”

His face brightened at the mention of magic. “I could show you another magic trick—a sock trick.”

She snorted, clearly intrigued. “A sock trick?”

Spencer’s confidence grew, knowing he could impress her and wanting to make her smile again. He grabbed a polka-dot sock from his laundry basket, holding it up between his fingers.

“Alright. I’m going to take this sock…” He moved with exaggerated care, his hands precise as he folded the sock in half, then folded it again. “And just like that, I’m going to make it disappear.”

He made a quick move, waving his hands dramatically to hide how he tucked it into the waistband of his pants. “See? Gone.”

She looked at him with wide, amused eyes. “You can’t be serious. Where did it go?”

He smirked and leaned in. “Ah, but that’s the trick—you have to keep an eye on me.” The back of his fingers softly trailed up her cheek, his confidence growing as he felt the heat radiating off her. In one smooth motion, he pulled the exact same sock from behind her ear.

Her mouth dropped open in surprise. “No way.”

“Now look in your basket.”

She shook her head in disbelief. She looked at her laundry pile, and sitting right on top was the matching polka-dot sock.

She threw her head back, laughing, overwhelmed with amazement.

Spencer chuckled softly, enjoying her reaction. “I grew up in Vegas, so I’ve had some practice—but the real magic is in the timing. You were too focused on me to notice the disappearance.”

His words were meant as a mere observation, but the realization seemed to dawn on both of them. She had indeed been too focused on him—only him.

The tension between them grew. She toyed with her lip, and he adjusted the collar of his shirt as they maintained eye contact.

“Laundromat is closing, folks! Everybody out in five minutes.” The announcement through the speakers made them both jump, shaken out of the trance they were in.

“Can I walk you to your apartment?” Spencer asked.

Her eyes glistened, and her smile reached the corners of her mouth. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

They walked out of the laundromat, continuing their small talk about magic and life while sharing the occasional giggle. The stairway was too narrow to walk side by side—especially when carrying a big laundry basket—but that didn’t seem to bother them. The sides of their bodies brushed, their pace matching as they ascended the stairs. Spencer kept an arm behind her back, ready to steady her if she stumbled.

They arrived at their neighboring apartment doors. The air was filled with a mix of the sorrow of their encounter ending and the anticipation of a new one.

The scene almost felt like the end of a first date. Tension hung in the air as they shifted back and forth on their feet, wondering if a goodbye kiss would follow.

“This is mine,” Spencer commented.

She let out a breathy chuckle. “I know.”

After a moment of lingering eye contact, she decided to take the lead.

“Good night, Spencer.” She smiled softly.

“Good night,” he repeated.

Spencer felt a rush of joy as he closed the door behind him. Flirting wasn’t his strong suit. In fact, he wasn’t even sure if their exchanges today could be considered flirting. But there was something comfortable about it. Something effortless. And, most importantly, he’d made her laugh. Several times.

Lost in his thoughts, Spencer set his laundry basket down on the table, preparing to fold the clothes. He wasn’t paying attention as he reached inside—until his fingers brushed against an unfamiliar material.

He looked down with a frown. In his hand was a pair of red laced panties. His throat tightened, and for a moment, he could only stare at them in disbelief.

A vivid image flashed in his mind—those same red panties, nestled in his neighbor’s laundry basket. He frowned deeper, replaying their interaction in his mind. Could I have taken them by accident? He was sure he hadn’t. With an eidetic memory, he’d be able to remember something like that.

His confusement and worry were quickly overcome by a feeling of curiosity and lust. Spencer’s fingers lingered over the fabric, the soft lace slipping between them.

It wasn’t difficult to imagine her in it. The delicate lace tracing the curve of her waist, the soft dips and rises of her hips. Her body seemed to shimmer in the dim glow of his imagination.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, she shifted in his mind. His fingers curled slightly around the fabric, imagining the way it would feel against her skin as she moved. She lowered her hands, fingers trailing over her body as she slid the lace downward, over the curve of her hips, the fabric teasing the soft swell of her backside. He could almost hear it—the quiet rustle of the lace moving, sliding over her skin as she undressed, the tension in his chest building with each slow, deliberate motion.

His heartbeat quickened as he imagined her pulling the panties lower. The lace graced the insides of her legs, following the shape of her thighs as she removed it with such ease, such grace. And then, just like that, it was gone. The fabric fell, pooling at her feet, leaving her standing before him, utterly exposed.

As his fingers twisted the delicate lace, the image of her in his mind began to fade, slipping away like a dream that was never meant to stay. His subconscious seemed to know that any attempt to imagine her would only fall short. With a quiet exhale, Spencer loosened his grip, folded the lace carefully, and tucked it into his pocket—out of sight, out of mind.

He decided to lie down on his bed, not to sleep, but simply to relax. But his body had other ideas. Before he knew it, his eyes had closed, and his mind had drifted off. The soft purr of his name pulled him from his light doze.

For a moment, Spencer thought he was in heaven—that his pulse had quickened from the thought of her and now he found himself in a place where he could hear her voice calling out his name, like an angel. But as his eyes fluttered open, he realized the voice was more muffled and coming from behind the wall.

“Spencer? Spencer, can you hear me?”

Startled, he swiftly propped himself up on his elbows, his mouth parting before he swallowed his words. Admitting that he could hear her—especially after the sounds from the previous nights—felt like a confession. The idea of those nights ending made his chest tighten, but if it meant he could speak to her again, it was a sacrifice he was willing to make.

“Yes. I can hear you,” he called back, his voice a little louder.

A long silence followed. Spencer cursed himself, anxious that he’d ruined it. But then, he heard the soft, familiar buzz.

“What about this? Do you hear this?” she asked, a playful edge to her voice.

“I- I do. What is it?” Spencer asked, his curiosity peaked.

Her giggle echoed softly through the wall, and his chest tightened with warmth. He smiled without thinking, his heart aching at the sound.

“You don’t know what this is?” she teased, amusement in her tone.

“No,” he admitted, sheepish.

“It’s a vibrator, Spencer.”

Her words hit him like a sudden jolt of electricity. He could feel the heat rise in his face, but then came her sweet laughter again. Spencer shook his head, smiling despite himself.

“Have you ever tried it?” she asked, her voice sultry, almost daring.

“No,” he responded quietly, his voice lowered.

“Would you like to?” her tone sounded persuasive.

“I- I don’t know,” he murmured, unsure but intrigued. “Maybe.”

A beat of silence passed, before she spoke again.

“You could come over and find out.”

Spencer’s face went red, his heart pounding in his chest. “N-now?”

“Yes, now,” she answered with a soft chuckle, teasing yet inviting.

Spencer scrambled off the bed, his pulse racing as he hurried toward the door, afraid she might change her mind. He forced himself to stop when he stood in front of her apartment, drawing in a deep breath to steady the surge of nervous excitement. The moment he’d been fantasizing about for so long was a knock away from becoming reality.

Knock, knock.

The door creaked open, and Spencer was met with the breathtaking sight of her.

She stepped aside and gave him that look—the one that made every nerve in his body stir with need. “Come in.”

“Are you sure?” Spencer’s voice barely made it out, thick with anticipation.

She didn’t answer with words. Instead, she moved toward him, lifting onto her toes as she placed her hand on the back of his neck, the touch sending a shiver down his spine. And then, she kissed him.

There was no rush behind her soft lips. It wasn’t frantic like his thoughts had been. It was gentle—like she was savoring the moment just as much as he was.

She slowly lowered herself back to her feet, and she gazed up on him, a soft smile on her lips, eyes twinkling.

It took Spencer a moment to process what had just happened, but once he did, he pulled her back in, his lips crashing into hers with desperate urgency. She responded in kind, her hands sliding into his hair, tugging him closer. His breath came in shallow gasps as he lifted her, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, and he carried her to the wall. Their bodies pressed against the same wall that had once held their whispered breaths.

His mind felt like it was spinning—this was real, she was real, and he was touching her. His lips trailed down her neck, the soft skin beneath his mouth sending sparks of desire through him.

“Spencer,” she murmured, and the sound of her voice made his heart stutter. He responded by lifting his lips from her skin, needing to look at her—to drink her in, to memorize every detail.

She met his gaze, her lips parted. “Take it off,” she breathed, pulling at his shirt, her hands shaking with the same feverish need.

Spencer stepped back slightly, eyes never leaving her, and pulled his shirt over his head. His eyes traced every inch of her as she began to undress too, throwing her clothes aside.

“Fuck,” he whispered to himself as she revealed her nude body, wearing no underwear underneath the clothes she just took off.

She smirked, her gaze burning into his. “I told you it was underwear day.”

He let out a breathy chuckle, shaking his head. “God, I’ve dreamed about this,” he murmured, his voice hoarse with awe and desire.

Her lips curled into a satisfied smile as she pulled him back into her embrace, their bodies stumbling towards the bed. She fell softly onto the sheets, and he moved on top of her, capturing her lips in a lingering kiss.

Spencer began to pepper her with kisses, unsure where to start. He hummed as his tongue swiped along the curve of her neck. His wet kisses trailed down to her collarbones, leaving purple marks on his way down, each one encouraged by her sweet moans.

As he moved further up the bed, his knee brushed against something. His focus shifted as he noticed the small, purple object. “Is this it?” he asked, curiously, and she nodded.

He picked it up, noticing it was smaller than his index finger. As he rolled the toy in his hand, it suddenly buzzed to life, making him jump back. She laughed at his reaction, clearly amused.

He quickly figured out how to stop the buzzing and he hovered above her, tracing her lips with the toy. She instinctively opened her mouth, her tongue rolling around it.

“Good girl,” he hummed. “That’s it.”

She moaned softly as she closed her lips around it, sucking gently while maintaining eye contact. He slowly slid the vibrator from her lips, its surface glistening with the trace of her tongue. Turning it on again, he moved it to her nipple, the bud instantly hardening. She let out quiet whimpers, her body trembling with the sensation.

Once satisfied, he placed his mouth on her nipple while the vibrator moved to the other one. She arched her back with a moan as he sucked on the sensitive bud.

Her hips rolled in response to his touch, and with every movement her skin brushed against his length, making it harder to hold back his moans.

“Don’t go quiet on me now. You always make such beautiful sounds,” she purred.

His face flushed as he looked at her, her fingers brushing through his locks. “Don’t tell me you didn’t know. I think the whole complex has heard you,” she giggled.

He opened her thighs, and without warning, placed the vibrator directly on her clit. She let out a high-pitched cry.

“I’m pretty sure all they hear is you,” he teased back. Her voice was a mixture of laughter and moans and he kissed her passionately, desperate to hold onto that sound, to keep it locked within him forever.

She loosely wrapped her legs around his waist, her hand brushing against his to keep the toy in place. He leaned onto his elbows, hovering above her, moaning when his length slipped between her folds. He moved steadily, each thrust coating him in her wetness. Every time he thrust up, his tip brushed against the vibrator, sending shudders through his body. She upped the intensity, and their moans became synchronized, echoing in the air.

Their breathing grew heavier, only interrupted by soft kisses. Spencer felt her tense beneath him, her legs trembling against his back.

“You can let go for me. Show me how good you make yourself feel,” he encouraged, his voice low and warm against her lips.

“It’s you who’s making me feel this good, Spencer,” she whispered, and he could feel the butterflies flutter in his chest.

He held her close as she reached her peak, her soft cries muffled by her face buried in the crook of his neck. Spencer was pressed against the vibrator, the sensation overwhelming him.

She placed the toy beside her, her hand finding his hardness and guiding him inside of her. Spencer let out a needy whine as he was enveloped by her warmth. She pulsed around him, and he knew he wouldn’t last much longer. She pulled him into a sloppy kiss, and he desperately moved his hips, driven by the overwhelming pleasure, until he spilled inside of her.

They stayed like that for a moment, their foreheads pressed together as they caught their breath. Spencer eventually rolled off her, their legs remaining intertwined.

He turned his head to look at her, and she was already watching him with a sweet smile.

“That was nice,” he mused softly.

“Yeah, it was,” she replied, her voice just as soft.

They spent the rest of the night, and the entirety of the next morning tangled up in each other, until it was time for Spencer to leave for work.

She watched him with adoration as he pulled his pants on, her eyes tracing his movements. As he reached into his pocket, his hand brushed against the familiar lace, and he froze. His cheeks flushed as he pulled out the bundle of fabric—her red laced panties.

“I- uh…” he stammered, holding them out to her. “Here.”

She chuckled. “You can keep them. Consider it a welcome gift. You know, since the cookies didn’t exactly work out.”

“That’s okay. It’s yours,” he replied, holding them out to her once more.

Her smirk deepened. “I didn’t do that little magic trick just for you to give them back,” she teased.

His eyes widened in surprise. “Wait—you put them in my laundry?”

She shrugged, a playful glint in her eye. “You’re not the only magician here, Spencer.”

Spencer laughed, coming to a halt at the door. He glanced over his shoulder. “Same time tomorrow?” he asked with a grin.

She chuckled softly, nodding. “I think I could get used to that.”

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