#who else reads these tags this far down?

[sarcasticratsims]

ZOMBIES!!!! I've actually been going insane about zombie apocalypse things for the past month, so I finally cracked and remade my apocalypse mods folder today, so I present to you...one-month-into zombie apocalypse Sam and Roy concepts :)

Don't know who they are? Check out Seasick :')

| Beginning : Latest |

@that1crowdude @amaranthinessims

[butchratchettruther]

I may or may not be compiling a chronological list of nearly every locomotive ever directly because of starlight express

[breadboysteals]

Does anyone else have a lot of trouble picking up information like if I read something I don't learn anything but when I read it for the twentieth time I maybe pick up half

[burinazar]

It's a bit funny that to parts of my circles I'm 'the fandom one'/'the fanfic one'/'the shipping one' as the person they know most prominently into such things

because as much as i love writing my fics and shipping my ships my interest in both of those things is, I think, very narrow and specific compared to most people who are into them? due to my habits being like. very particular

[4bsurdcreature]

Something is wrong.

Something is wrong something is wrong something is wrong.

You don’t drop your drink on the bar floor, you place it gently on the bar it was served on, as you feel your heart pulse in cut time, while your face flushes and your hands shake. Next to you, a warm smile, a gentle hand, a deep voice asks,

“Are you alright?”

And your heart sings, your pulse leaps, all you can think is I love you, I love you, I love you! and you feel sick with the infatuation of it all. “I’m fine.” is what you eventually say, but it comes out unstable, higher pitched, than you want it too, and in turning away you watch your friends trade glances with one another.

“She’s in love!” One of them, Rachel, says to the other.

“I never thought I’d see the day!” The other, Beth, replies.

Something is wrong! You try to tell them, but you can’t get the words out, as they trade giggles and hushed tones while you excuse yourself to go to the bathroom.

----

Inside, you face yourself in the mirror. Water has done nothing to calm the fire in your gut, and the butterflies in your stomach swirl to a stampeding rhythm.

You’ve never been in love before, and you never thought you would be. You love, you have always loved, or sometimes loved, or kinda sorta loved, before. But you’ve never been *in* love; beyond passing curiosity, you’ve never wanted to be. It took a while to be okay with that, and an even longer time to acknowledge it, but this is how you are and regardless of how you, or other people, feel on putting a term to it, it’s how you imagined your future remaining.

Asexual. Aromantic. The bane to love-song propaganda. The constant butt of every joke that cries “This is what it means to be human! To Love! To Love! To Love!”.

Right now, you don’t feel human. This feels wrong, like a violation, like someone reaching into your nerves and burning them with the uncomfortable jolt of electricity, forcing you to jitter and move against any conscious choice. Forcing your blood to rush, and your mind to fill with him, him, Him!

Ants bearing love notes and centipedes scrawling heart-felt confessions skitter and scrape across the undersides of your skin. You would cry, you think, if your mind wasn’t cotton stuffed full of Love.

“There you are!” Rachel says, entering the bathroom to find you, shaking, wiping down your face one last time with water and crumbling brown paper towels.

“Something is Wrong.” You tell her, finally able to think without that man drowning your thoughts, content to be a constant undercurrent for now.

“I’ll say!” She laughs, “Look at you, you couldn’t take your eyes off of Joshua back there!” No, no no, she has it wrong. You’re not here to think about Joshua’s soft blue eyes- Stop it! Blue: ice scrapping, chilling you to the bone.

“You don’t get it. This isn’t normal. I can’t stop thinking about him. I’ve never felt like this before.” You try to impress. You want to scream. You want to throw up, a little, too, but you can’t tell if that’s you or the Love.

“Twenty-seven is pretty late to get a first crush, sure, but Joshua’s a nice guy, I get it! Not to mention big, strong, and handsome~” She does that thing with her voice. That double entendre waver that you always thought was a little gross, when talking about someone in love.

Why doesn’t she understand- “No, I mean- Don’t you think it’s weird? Isn’t this out of character? I don’t-” You can’t, “But now-” You can’t even say it, “It won’t let go. It won’t stop. I want to be with him, I want him to be with me! I feel weird! This isn’t right!”

“You’re being dramatic... but I guess that makes sense- it’s your first time, after all! Oooh, I can’t believe I got to be there when you fell in love for the first time! This is so romantic, it’s like a fairy tale! No one was right, no one fit, you had resigned yourself to living a Loveless life, until suddenly, He appeared!” She sighs, dreamily. You think you’re going to be sick again.

But still, you stop and think. Stop to partition the little idiot in your brain that keeps designing cursive versions of your name next to Joshua, blossoming with bloodstained hearts in-between. Resigned, that’s how Rachel phrased it. Is that how she saw it, saw you? The bathroom door opens- it’s Beth. She’ll understand.

“You two were having a gossip party without me?” Beth says, but there’s no hurt in her eyes as she gives a sly smile.

“She’s In Love~” Rachel taunts you, incriminating flush branded deep in your flesh burning all the brighter.

“I saw!” Beth squeals, and your stomach drops, hope failing, while your Love soars.

“Beth, you’ll listen to me, won’t you?” You ask, desperate, a last ditch effort “This isn’t normal, this isn’t right- I think maybe someone poisoned my drink-”

“Oh, she just won’t stop.” Rachel cuts you off, rolling her eyes, “She’s convinced, that just because she’s never been in love before, that must mean there’s something wrong.”

“Being in love isn’t wrong!” Beth responds to Rachel, sympathetic gaze turned towards you, reaching out to hold your hands like you’re a child needing comfort, “Sure, you’ve never been in love before, and change can be scary when you’re not ready for it, but shouldn’t you be celebrating? Now you know you were wrong! It is possible for you to love! Isn’t that wonderful?”

You’ve known Beth the longest, you’ve confided in her the most. Every moment of your life had been charted out and experienced with her by your side, your best friend and confidant. She knew you before you had a name for what you were, and she had always acted supportive of your decisions. She was the first person you told, when you discovered your relationship with love.

Beth looked so happy, as she said those words ‘Now you know you were wrong!’

You can’t. You can’t look at them. But you also can’t stay here.

“I’m going home.”

“Already?” Rachel scoffs, arms crossed, looking at you like you’ve said something ridiculous.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of!” Beth calls out to you, as you shoulder your way past her to leave.

----

No one believes you. You think that’s the worst thing you’ve discovered, about being in Love.

They see how your rash of a blush spreads when you talk about him, how you choke and stammer out praises mixed in with your loathing. They think you’re an idiot, new to your feelings, bumbling about them like a hormonal teenager, Love too big to think clearly. That last one is true, (Love all but suffocates you) but not in a way that you can make people listen.

It’s amazing, how few people truly care, when they think it’s about Love.

You ask for help, but it’s not the kind anyone wants to give.

‘Self Sabotaging’, ‘Repressed’, ‘Denial’, you’ve learned there are a million different ways to tell you that you’re wrong for thinking it’s wrong you’re in Love.

----

It is with vindictive satisfaction that you eventually prove your claims correct. When enough time had passed without you throwing yourself at Joshua like he undoubtedly assumed you would (and you were terribly grateful you were able to prevent), you caught him in the act of poisoning another drink. You had proof, and you took it to the right channels; you were cured and he would never do it again.

You were overjoyed, for a bit, but the victory itself was tainted. You stopped the villain, but the damage had already been done.

How quickly did those close to you turn, and how alienating it was, for no one to believe you. Puppeted by Love, reciting poetry of rotting verses, they mistook sweetness for healing rather than underlying disease. They must have seen the festering spread of Love as something to fill in the cracks of your character, instead of covering what little of you there was left beneath it all.

A gift in disguise, you think bitterly to yourself, as you wash the whole event clean. If your friends and family wanted you to be in Love, they can hold onto that fantasy- you don’t plan on speaking with them again, after all. They can read about what happened to Joshua in the news, and you can find a better group of people to spend your time with.

It is with peace you find yourself, in a life without Love.

"Aro/Ace person gets given a love potion" story but instead of them being immune or whatever, it DOES work, and they realize IMMEDIATELY that they've been fed a love potion because this feeling is so wrong and foreign but everyone keeps laughing off the idea of it being a love potion because "they were probably just a late bloomer" or "no, you just finally found the right person!" and it's just a horror story about how no one believes them even though they know, they KNOW this isn't right and they can't stand it.

[rafey-baby]

rafe has always been close with his sister…  

c/w: incest, dubcon, oral (m receiving), rafe being a perv about his (adopted) sister & her being inexperienced, 18+ mdni!

wc: 1.7k

part two & moodboard

if this is something u don’t like, scroll & read something else xx   

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

Her big brother has always been rather overbearing, which is something she’s tried to shrug off as him merely being protective, but as far as her understanding of siblings goes— they aren’t supposed to act the way Rafe does.  

Ever since they were little, Rafe has been weird about everyone in their strange family, but sometimes it makes her feel gross when he barges into her room while she’s changing— not even bothering to cover his eyes as he sits down on her mattress and starts ranting about something completely irrelevant.

It makes her feel disgusting when she notices the subtle smirk tugging at his mouth as his gaze narrows down onto whatever bare sliver of skin she’s hurriedly trying to hide from his borderline hungry eyes.   

And she doesn’t particularly enjoy when he gets wasted or high off of whatever he’s snorted at some stupid party and insists that he just has to sleep next to her because he’s not feeling good. And despite her drowsy complaints, he’s always snuggling too close for comfort with his hands all over her; pulling her flush against him and letting the cushion of his lips graze the skin of her neck.

He keeps telling her that it’s nothing out of the ordinary when he gives her details about the girls he’s slept with and what his favorite positions are, even if she’s told him multiple times that she doesn’t want to know. And whenever they’re home alone, he even goes as far as bringing girls to his room— making sure their loud moans echo right into her bedroom when he knows she’s trying to study.   

And whenever he’s tagging along during her little shopping trips (he doesn’t let her go alone because what if something happens?), he always demands on joining her in the fitting rooms— even squeezing himself into the crammed space when she’s trying on lingerie, claiming that she absolutely needs his opinion.   

“Rafe, that’s weird,” she tries to get him to wait outside but of course he merely rolls his eyes.  

“S’not weird, know how indecisive you can be, jus’ wanna help,” he says, seemingly genuine while he’s already fiddling with the clip of her bra.   

And she feels her cheeks burning when the cashier mentions how sweet it is that her boyfriend is paying for her clothes— to which Rafe merely chuckles while she can’t find the words to correct the poor woman because she’d probably faint if she learned the truth about their relationship.

More often than not, he tends to be borderline territorial. One time, she’s simply talking to a guy at some party, when all of a sudden, she feels an all too familiar presence behind her.

“Who’s this, hm?” he slurs, slinging a heavy arm over her shoulder.   

“Oh, it’s…um, no one,” she peeps out because she knows how he is. However, her attempts at calming him down prove to be fruitless because he’s already approaching the guy with a scoff.   

“You, uh, you do know that this is m’sister, right? Mine. So, why don’t you, uh, go ‘n try to impress some other bitch, yeah?” he offers him a sickly-sweet smile, voice harsh before telling her they’re leaving— strong hands on her waist already dragging her towards his truck.

“I was having fun,” she complains when he’s putting the seatbelt on her— his breath smelling of beer when he drawls out a reply. “You can have all the fun you want with me when we get home, yeah?”   

“But I wanted to spend time with my friends,” she pouts.   

“That’s just too bad then, isn’t it?” he murmurs while starting the engine— resting a warm palm on her thigh soon after, ignoring her efforts of shrugging it off.  

- - - - - - - - - - -

When he learns that she hasn’t had her first kiss yet (because why would anyone even think about touching her when they know Rafe is a complete psycho), he mocks her to the point of her eyes growing glossy as she tries to blink away the soggy droplets.

“S’okay, you wanna get it over with, hm? I’ll help you,” he so kindly offers with faux concern glimmering in the moonstones of his eyes.   

“Rafe, that’s gross,” she frowns, to which he merely furrows his brows before scoffing— as if she’s the one being weird.   

“So, uh, so you tellin’ me you want some…some stranger at a party who only wants to get in your pants to do it instead?” he narrows his eyes as if that’s the only alternative.  

“N— no,” her answer is hesitant.  

“Listen, m’just…m’just, tryna be a good brother ‘n help my little sister out, but if you don’t want m’help then don’t come cryin’ to me when you embarrass yourself cause you don’t even know how to kiss,” he lifts his hands up in surrender before shrugging, suggesting that he’d merely be doing her a favor.   

And before her brain has the time to process what’s happening, he’s already dragging her into his lap. And it feels wrong when their mouths are suddenly slotting together— when he’s letting out a shallow groan and slipping his tongue past her teeth without so much as a warning.

“Rafe! You didn’t tell me you were gonna do that,” she squeaks out, pulling away with her face all crumpled up, feeling disconcerted.   

“Shut up, you’re gonna wake up everyone, thought you wanted to learn?” he mutters out before he’s smearing his mouth on hers once more— this time with a tight grip on her jaw that forces her to stay put as the the kiss turns into something sloppy; wet.

And afterwards, he makes her promise that she won’t tell anyone because ‘you don’t want dad to get mad at you, do you?’ and even if she feels guilt eat away at her, she keeps it to herself because the last thing she wants is to upset anyone. 

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

“Rafe guess what? I have a date tomorrow,” she gives him a giddy smile while stepping into his room a few weeks later.  

“With who?” he eyes her while slouching on his bed, seemingly in the midst of texting someone.

“This guy I met on the beach today,” she sits down on the edge of the mattress when he places his phone on his nightstand.

“Yeah? What’s his name?” he asks, shifting closer.  

“Um, Ethan.” 

“Last name?”  

“I— I don’t know, didn’t ask…why does it matter? Was just wondering if you could drive me there?” she says, surprised by his sudden interest. 

“Where?” his tone sounds almost exasperated now, as if she’s done something bad.

“Um, we’re just gonna hang out at his house,” she chews on her bottom lip, suddenly nervous.

“You havin’ a date at his house? You finally gonna lose that virginity, huh?” he asks as patronizing laughter bubbles from his chest.

“What? No! S’not like that,” she mumbles, her skin already boiling. 

“No? You do know when guys say they wanna hang out, it means they wanna fuck, right? You’re not that stupid, are you?” his gaze is borderline condescending when he raises his brows.

“Well, he’s not like that, he seems nice,” she tries to defend herself, feeling small all of a sudden.

“Sweetheart, every guy’s like that, especially the ones that seem nice, you’re so fuckin’ naive,” he scoffs while running a hand through his hair.

“You know what? Forget about it, I’ll just walk there,” she huffs out, standing up to leave, however, she doesn’t get far before he’s grabbing at her arm.

“Listen, m’just tryna look out for you, okay? Don’t feel like dealin’ with your shit ‘bout how he broke your heart. I mean, if you’re not gonna let him hit, he’s gonna be expectin’ somethin’ else, you know that, right?”

She swallows.

“I— are you sure? But…but I don’t even know how to—” 

“Poor baby, what would you do without your big brother, hm? Don’t worry, I’ll teach you, yeah?” he coos before pinky promising he’ll be gentle.

And that’s how she ends up on her knees in front of him. 

“Ray, this doesn’t feel…right,” she mumbles out, eyes focused on the ruddy tip he’s thumbing over while he stares at her.

“Shh, can be our little secret, yeah? Jus’ wanna make sure my little sister doesn’t embarrass herself,” he lets out a grunt when she blinks up at him with uncertain eyes.

“Open your mouth, tongue out,” he instructs while moving closer to her tentative form, biting his lip when she gingerly does what he tells her to. Then, he’s thudding the drippy head on the flat of her tongue— one, two, three times, which makes her let out a noise; something that only seems to spur him on.

He tastes salty and it makes it all the more real, all the more wrong because she doesn’t necessarily mind the taste, which makes her feel entirely too gross about the situation altogether— the words ‘I don’t wanna do this anymore’ turning into a tangled muddle when he’s already pushing past her lips, making her gag around the sudden intrusion.

“Shit, tha’s good, jus’ take it, yeah?” he rumbles out; a big hand holding the back of her head as he stuffs himself deeper down her throat— cock twitching in response to her whines and attempts at drawing away for air.

It overwhelms her to no end when he’s so rough, abrasive, but despite his broken promise, she’s unable to prevent her thighs from pressing together when throaty moans keep escaping him; his respiration turning labored by each lazy rut of his hips while her head begins to spin.

Only when his sticky cum gushes onto her tongue— the white substance dribbling past the seam of her lips and covering her chin in the process, does he grant her a moment to catch her breath.

“Guys like it when you swallow,” his voice is like gravel when he pushes at her jaw, heady gaze glued to the way her throat bobs when she does just that, the aftertaste of what they’ve done making her feel stained; dirty.

“You know, s’cute you thought I’d let some, some shithead fuck my sister,” he sounds almost humored as he pats at the flushed skin of her cheek— making her eyes turn watery when he swipes a thumb under her wobbly bottom lip to clean up the remaining mess.

She feels something in her guts churn when he tucks it back into her mouth with a sick smile.

[puppygirlclick]

Help Prevent Two Disabled Trans Women From Losing Their Car

We're still relying on donations to keep us afloat right now. They've nearly stopped completely despite people still reblogging our post, and it's all we have at the moment to keep our only source of transportation for the household. My girlfriend and I are stuck here until I can heal up and find a job or we can find a way of saving up for an RV to get the hell out dodge before then and leave this all behind us. I'll hopefully be seeing a nerve specialist sooner rather than later to have some of the nerves ablated in my abdomen to deal with my constant pain since having hernia surgery and my left testicle removed. With everything going on in the household, the money that's been donated to us has been having to go our car note in full every month, as my parents can't afford to pay for anything more than they already are as they tend to waste money going out shopping and buying shit they don't need on a consistent basis while the problems keep piling up. We're still living in a run down shed with our cat, a former stray, with no insulation, poorly installed electricity and no running water along with the water in the house not being on right now. In the coming months, we're expecting for there to be more rain fall and for it to get hotter as summer approaches. Recently it rained all day long and we were barely able to keep the shed from flooding, and despite our efforts, things still ended up getting ruined from the rainwater that flooded in. We're in a desperate situation right now and anything that you can donate genuinely helps us in the long run to getting out of here sometime hopefully soon. I appreciate all those who have been able to help us out so far and I'm sorry that we're having to continue to e-beg like this but we're not sure what else there is that we can do right now. We can't afford to lose our only source of transportation in a situation like this, even just $1 helps. Thank you for taking the time to read, even if you can't donate, sharing helps us as well.

C*sh*pp $StSeeSee (@stcecilia’s account) P*yp*l@"schrodingersbird" (also Cici's without quotes, someone on here has that username) Ask for V*nmo (Not listing here because of my deadname)

DO NOT TAG

[ughdontbeboring]

Let Me In

Smoke X Black/WoC Reader X Stack (👀😮‍💨🥵)

A night at the speakeasy that changes y’all lives forever

warnings: uh angst? and twin Mike’s lol (I wish there was smut but maybe once I see the movie idk)

( SONG FROM SOUNDTRACK BY MY FAV MUST LISTEN 😭

so I just had to come back here and update with a song by Tanrélle for the soundtrack!! I just heard it and it soooo the soundtrack for this scene I wrote OMG I CANT DEAL )

side note: not sure if I even wrote that out correctly but the twins share reader there is no incest in the pairing. I thought about this late at night after seeing the trailer that just dropped and yea lol I haven’t been in Mike’s fanfic section in a while and all my Killmonger fics I never post so funny enough without the movie even being out this is my first fic for Mike ever posted.

I may follow up and do more after the movie drops and I see more of their personalities only time will tell. I’m def playing around with something a little prequel just to show their dynamic a bit but again time will tell 🥵

it’s so early on idk what to even tag this 😭 is anyone even reading this now or are we waiting on the movie to drop??

❤️💙

Smoke stood there yelling trying to calm down the group of hysterical night goers who now found themselves in an impossible situation. A situation that shouldn’t be a reality but let the old tales tell it, it was just as true. 

And now your small group of survivors is finding that out. 

The lively party under the moon light quickly taking a turn after unwanted guests arrived odd and full of smiles. 

It started with that Mary woman who had flirted her way in. She was out of place here and maybe that’s why Stack seemed so intrigued. He never could turn down a mystery, your wild boy.

Now there was no way out that any of you could see just yet but you knew Smoke would think of something, he always did.

Pearl wailed in front of everybody, her body shaking uncontrollably as the other women rushed surrounding her, trying to give some comfort.

You seen Delta take that moment to approach Smoke who was deep in thought, closer to the front door than anyone else. That far away look on his face when he was racking his brain for a solution. 

The realization that Stack had become a night creature, a vampire from the folklore of time immortal, from tales stretching across the world in different cultures, different languages was unfathomable. He had become whatever they were and it was settling into the group with dread. 

But none more devastated than Smoke and you. 

Now while Smoke was thinking of this with the rationality of surviving you just couldn’t accept this. 

“Smoke what we gon’ do without Stack?” Delta tried to whisper. He was unsuccessful because you could still hear him even with the group of women between y’all. 

You feel the room spinning again and you just need a moment. Hearing him speaking of Stack in that way had the air rushing from your lungs. No not Stack. You thought. Not like this. 

You know Smoke said for everyone to stay together and away from the walls, the doors, the windows any part of the foundation but you just need a moment because you feel like you can’t fucking breathe. 

Everyone is occupied when you slip away silent in your kitten heels you had choose for the night, your careful to not make noise with your form fitting dress that’s decorated with beadwork at the hem. All night the dress had swayed and shinned in the low lit speakeasy. You had danced all night your dress adding its own sound to the lively music with the heavy beadwork while switching between the strong arms of your boys during every song when the other wasn’t busy. 

Stack danced with you and Smoke would just hold you and kinda sway as you danced on him. Ever the serious one. 

You find yourself in the smaller back room that’s used for storage with a back entrance. Even though you needed a moment the small space was quickly becoming suffocating causing your grief and disbelief to swell within you. It choked you. Now you felt like you were standing out in the fields on a hottest summer Mississippi day. You felt like you were dying.

You quickly realized you were hyperventilating. You needed air. 

Over your deep breathing you hear softly yet unmistakably beyond the door “It’s ok baby”. Your blood goes cold and your body freezes. 

“Stack?” You question softly as your eyes start to water while staring straight ahead of you. 

“Yea, it’s me baby” He says in his familiar thick accent. 

“Ho-how?” You stutter in disbelief. How’d he know you were back here? Out of everyone it could have been how’d he know it was you? Was he alone? So many questions ran through your head without ever making it to your lips.

“Baby I knew it was you. Don’t cry babygirl just open the door fo’ me” He coo’s softly. 

“I-I can’t” you replied sounding even unconvinced to your own ears. It feels wrong to deny him. 

“Why? Baby I don’t wanna be out here no more all alone. let me in so I can get away from these crazy crackers” He mutters a little bit impatiently. That bit wasn’t your Stack. Stack out of the both of them always was patient with you, it was almost sickening how he caved for you. 

His patience’s with you gave people the false hood of a saint when his reality was he could flip in a moment. Just like Smokes quietness and how gentle he was with you gave people a false impression of calm man. They were both ticking time bombs on any given day, at any moment. 

“And it’s really you Stack?” You ask again begging your mind to believe what your heart does. That he’s still in there somewhere. 

It’s quiet for a moment before he's able to muster an almost forced reply. “Of course-“

“The hell you doing?” You hear barked behind you in that deep Mississippi drawl. 

It’s not even seconds later when you feel his presence behind you and his large hand gripping your arm yanking you slightly back.

“It’s Stack! We have to help him! Let him in! Please Smoke!” You beg facing the other half of your heart, staring up into Smokes eyes. You seen the anger and the hurt swirling in the deep brown.  

“It ain’t him!” He yells down at you as he towers above you. His handsome face menacing as always. 

You’re not sure if everyone had come back with Smoke or if they’re just getting there but you feel everyone’s eyes on you. You know they must think you crazy. You seen what everyone else outside the speakeasy did to eachother yet here you are begging for Smoke to find a way to save Stack, bring him back to you.

“Oh come on now no fighting with our babygirl, just open up fo’ me twin” Stack taunts from the other side of the door. 

The sound of his voice has you staring at the door with your conviction growing before Smoke is pulling your attention back to him. 

“Aye. Hey baby look at me that’s not Stack. Not no more” He tries again with concern flickering in his eyes. He’s not sure what will happen if he can’t get you to accept it. His stomach turns with the thoughts of all the possibilities. He can’t loose you too. Not now not never. 

“Please! Please I can’t-I can’t leave him out there!! He’s not safe” You begged staring up at him. Your eyes pleading with him to understand. 

But that flicker of concern is quickly extinguished by the anger that replaces it in his brown eyes. He’s shaking you as he turns you to face him. He needs you to understand.

He yells your name full of anger. “You’re not safe if you let him in! He’ll kill you and everyone else in this fucking place!” He roars at you. 

It’s starting to dawn on Smoke he may have to take more precautions if you don’t show him you’ve accepted what has happened to Stack.

You’re not sure why he allows it or if you’ve just caught him off guard but you yank your arm away and move near the door. 

You can feel the tension in the room at your sudden proximity to the door. There’s a small opening in the door just about your eye level in your short heels. It’s about the length of your middle finger and horizontal. 

“Stack pl-please baby please tell me it’s really you. You’re still my Stack, right?” You beg softly as you stare at Stack’s throat that you can see through the opening. Your fingers inching up to right below the hole.  He’s some how closer and your pointer finger ventures outside just barely to run along his full bottom lip. You shudder at the feel of his skin and how it’s something between hot and cool but not warm. It was odd and unsettling.

There’s a long pause and you can feel Smoke slowly move closer to you. 

The silence is deafening to you as your heart starts to pick back up. 

You see him shift a bit and when you crane you neck your able to see his eyes. You couldn’t see Stacks eyes before, not this close anyway since he changed.

They’re grey almost sliver and mostly lifeless, the brown warmth from them missing. But the guilt that flickers across them fans the embers of your hope. 

What is said next is so soft you almost don’t hear it if it wasn’t for the view you also had of his lips with the way he’s tilted his eyes to look down at you. 

But the rasp of his voice is unmistakable when he whispers “I love you” 

Your heart can’t take it and even if his eyes are different your Stack is still in there somewhere. Your hand rushes the door handle. 

It’s not Smokes booming voice behind you yelling “NO!” that startles you, it’s the earth shaking bang on the door in-front of you when you can do longer see Stack’s eyes that freezes your movements. Your hand inches from the handle.

The bang comes again as Stack yells “Let me in!”. Your body feels like you were just dumped into the Mississippi during winter. The cold realization settles over you. No he’s not your Stack, not fully at least.

Had he not banged on the door startling you, you would have surly opened it and thrown yourself into his arms. This was his way of showing you, your Stack that was still in there was trying to get through to you over the force that was consuming his body. He was trying to scare you.

The next bang is just as loud and aggressive and it causes you to stumble, falling back, your hands breaking the fall and scraping against the wooden floor as your bottom takes most of the impact. 

Your heart is racing faster than you thought possible as you stare up wide eyed at the door Stack continues to bang against 

“LET ME IN!” 

You feel Smokes rough hands wrap around your waist pulling you up. His arms wrap around you as you snob in your hands. His full soft lips at your neck shhing and comforting you.

“It’s ok baby, gonna be ok, you safe with me” Smoke whispers softly against you. 

They always had their different ways of dealing with you and it just worked having both of them. It wasn’t unusual for Smoke to be so soft with you but it didn’t happen as often as it did with Stack. Smoke was definitely your grumpy one, hardly if ever smiling if it wasn’t for you. 

They both came in your life at the same time sweeping you off your feet without even trying, They both pulled you in in their own way true to their own personalities. When you realize that you couldn’t choose you decided you would walk away, and they refused to let you go. They decided it was only right to share you with boundaries in place over loosing you. It was by far nothing any of you had experienced before or would have been willing with anyone else. But here the three of you were years later. You never looked back. 

“You and your man could be together and even better if you come out or let us in little lady” It’s another voice the room full of people hear, his voice, the white man who brought this hell to their little speakeasy paradise.

“Such a pretty pretty thing, we’d make you a queen” he continues with a groan almost like he was thinking of how your blood would taste or maybe even more sexual thoughts. Either way it caused you to shudder in Smokes arms pressing more into him. 

You know you aren’t mistaken when you hear a familiar growl. It’s not him it’s Stack. The sound causes your stomach to turn a bit knowing that’s the part of him that’s still Stack. He was always so jealous it was a wonder he was able to handle the relationship of 3. Even turning didn’t seem to change that in him. It was a sound you heard many many times before. A man any man would be beat within an inch of his life for disrespecting Stack or Smoke by gazing upon you for a moment too long. 

You’re not sure if you should be happy or devastated by the realization. Apart of you wants to be with him, be whatever he is now. Stay by his side like he had always been by hers. 

But then you feel the warm squeeze of Smoke’s arms behind you and his hands turning you into his chest as the tears you didn’t notice start again keep falling. 

Smoke’s large hands grab your face softly and his thumbs wipes the tears away. You couldn’t give up, not when you still had your Smoke. You had to fight for him even if that meant letting go of Stack or whatever Stack had become. 

His face is close to yours making you hold eye contact. 

“Shh baby m’ here, you safe. Just stay here with me” He says watching you, you nod finally giving him some relief you’re starting to accept this night and the twisted turn of fate. “If that was still Stack he’d want you safe baby. We both know that. He’d want you safe and with me.”

You shake your head in understanding but it doesn’t stop the tears. He leans in to softly kiss them away. 

“We gon’ be good. Ight baby? I got you.” He promises holding your eyes in place with the conviction in his. 

And you believe him. Not matter how impossible the situation seemed you believed him to always come through for you. 

“Did y’all hear that? Where’s that coming from” Delta panics leaving the room to search for the source. 

You steal a glance back and notice that Stack is still staring through the opening as Smoke pulls you away. 

“I love you” you whisper back with a finale look before turing into Smoke’s embrace as he leads you safely away from the temptation of his twin. 

Smoke knows that Stack is still in there somewhere but his bloodlust seems to be his main controller and  he can’t let you hold out on hope and get yourself killed or worse turned trying to prove your love. Trying to prove Stack is still in there. 

So he keeps you close as possible as they enter the main room following the rest of the group. 

“I love you Smoke” you say softly as you stop and look up at him. 

Smoke knows you do just as much as you love Stack, you’ve never shown favorites. He loves you more than he’ll ever be able to say, you both know that. After tonight though he might have to work on being able to tell you just how much he does. 

Smoke doesn’t care what happens tonight as long as he gets you safely away from this. Not only for himself but for Stack too. 

❤️💙

[mssorceressupreme]

You Belong With Me | F.W

———

Pairing: Fred Weasley x reader

Summary: it almost felt like unrequited love to you, until you agreed to go to the Yule ball with George, causing his twin brother to get jealous.

Warnings/tags: jealousy, arguing, dancing in the rain, kissing in the rain (when's it gonna be my turn), mutual pining, fred longs for you <3, ending is soo fluffy

———

The cool autumn breeze swept across the courtyard as you and Hermione lounged on a stone bench, basking in a rare moment of calm amidst the Yule Ball frenzy that had overtaken the castle. The two of you were deep in conversation, discussing something far removed from the glittering event.

Hermione was talking about her fascination with ancient runes, her voice animated.

“I just think it’s incredible,” she said, her fingers tracing an invisible symbol in the air. “Languages so old they’ve shaped magic itself. Imagine being able to read something no one else in the room understands.”

You smiled, leaning back against the bench. “I’ll stick to words I can actually pronounce, thanks. Besides, isn’t it enough that half the textbooks at this school might as well be in a foreign language?”

Hermione laughed softly. “Fair point. But honestly, there’s something thrilling about deciphering mysteries.”

You were about to respond when Cho Chang appeared, her face lit up like a thousand fairy lights. “Guess what?” she exclaimed, plopping down beside Hermione, who immediately brightened at her arrival.

“What?” Hermione asked, leaning forward with curiosity.

“Cedric asked me to the ball!” Cho squealed, clutching her hands together.

Your grin mirrored hers. “That’s amazing, Cho! He’s one of the most sought-after guys in school. Everyone’s going to be jealous.”

Cho flushed with delight, her excitement infectious. “I still can’t believe it. He just came up to me after Charms and asked. Like it was nothing!”

The three of you giggled, and soon the conversation shifted to the ball itself—who would ask whom, what dresses to wear, and how the hall might be decorated.

“Have you two thought about who you might ask?” Cho asked, leaning forward with a curious glint in her eyes.

Hermione glanced away, suddenly absorbed in adjusting the clasp of her cloak. “I—I don’t really know yet,” she mumbled.

Your stomach twisted slightly at the question, though you kept your face neutral. “No one in mind,” you said lightly, though your heart was screaming a different answer: Fred.

The thought of him filled your mind, as it often did lately. His quick wit, the sparkle in his eyes when he was planning a prank, the way his laughter could light up the darkest of days. You could barely imagine him asking you, but the hope lingered all the same.

Cho giggled, oblivious to your inner turmoil. “Well, whoever you pick, you’ll have to tell me everything! It’s all anyone’s talking about in Ravenclaw Tower.”

The conversation drifted to Potions, which happened to be our next class, but your mind remained on Fred. Would he ask someone else?

___

The next afternoon, the library was quieter than usual, save for the occasional scratch of quills on parchment. You were deeply engrossed in your Potions notes when George slid into the seat beside you.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he said with a grin, tossing a book onto the table.

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Shouldn’t you be off plotting your next big prank with Fred?”

He clutched his chest with a dramatic gasp. “Ouch. I’m perfectly capable of studying, thank you very much.”

You chuckled, turning back to your notes as he whipped out his textbook.

The two of you fell into an easy rhythm of studying, punctuated by George’s occasional quips and your amused replies. It was comfortable, even fun. Halfway through, he leaned closer, his tone suddenly earnest.

“So, the Yule Ball,” he started, tapping his quill against the table.

You looked up, curious. “What about it?”

He grinned, though there was something tentative about it. “Well, I was wondering if you’d go with me.”

Your heart stuttered. For a split second, you pictured Fred’s face instead of George’s, and disappointment flooded your chest.

But then you saw the hope in George’s eyes and felt a sense of guilt. He was lovely in his own right, and you couldn’t imagine saying no to someone so kind.

“Sure,” you said after a moment, offering a small smile. “I’d love to Georgie.”

He was one of your closest friends after all, how could you say no to George? Besides, at least you wouldn't be attending the ball alone. ___

Later that day, you found yourself in the Great Hall during study period. The long tables were packed with students working on essays and assignments, and the low hum of conversation filled the space. You sat with Hermione, Harry, and Ron, your quill scratching against the parchment as you tried to focus.

The doors swung open, and your heart skipped a beat as Fred entered, his presence commanding the room without even trying. His tie was slightly askew, his hair tousled in that effortlessly handsome way of his.

You quickly looked down at your parchment, forcing yourself to concentrate. But then Fred sat across from you, and ignoring him became impossible.

“Looking forward to the ball?” he asked casually, his eyes meeting yours.

You managed a nod. “Yeah, should be fun.” If you went with me.

George, seated beside you, grinned and announced loudly, “Right?We’re going together!”

The group erupted in congratulations. “So, you two, huh?” Ron teased, his eyebrows waggling.

You forced a smile as the attention turned to you and George. Across the table, Fred’s expression fell, though he quickly masked it with a laugh.

"You two? That'll be entertaining. Best put extra protection over your toes Y/N, George isn't exactly the best dancer."

The laughter around the table grew louder, students chiming in with their own quips and jokes about the Yule Ball. You tried to join in, but your focus kept slipping back to Fred.

Every time George leaned closer to you or made you laugh, Fred’s jaw tightened, his fingers drumming against the table in a steady, agitated rhythm.

George, oblivious to his twin’s mood, grinned and nudged you with his elbow. “You’ll see, Y/N. Fred might think he’s the charming one, but wait until you’re spinning across the dance floor with me. I’ll have you thinking I invented the waltz.”

Fred scoffed audibly, folding his arms. “Yeah, right. And she’ll probably need a Healer for her toes by the end of the night. Smooth moves, George.”

George chuckled, brushing off the jab. “Jealous much, Freddie?”

That struck a nerve. Fred’s head snapped up, his eyes narrowing as he leaned forward. “Jealous? Of you? You’re dreaming, mate.”

“Oh, come on. Don’t act like it’s a crime for her to have a decent time at the ball.”

“Decent time? That’s rich, coming from the guy who can’t even sit still during dinner without knocking something over.”

George’s grin faltered, his tone sharpening. “What’s your problem? You’ve been acting like this since I asked her.” He asked, loud enough for only him and Fred to hear. But George, knew exactly what was up.

“Maybe my problem is you jumping in when you knew—” Fred stopped abruptly, clenching his jaw as if he’d said too much.

The table grew quieter as Snape walked by, making sure students were doing work without chatting away, a few heads turning toward the brewing tension. Your heart raced as you glanced between them, unsure whether to step in.

“Knew what, Fred?” George pressed, his own temper starting to rise.

Fred opened his book, a little too harshly, his voice low but laced with frustration. “Forget it. Enjoy your ‘decent time,’ George.”

Not long after, you all found yourselves immersed in studying.

Moments later, Fred tossed a note to Ron, saying “Get a move on, or all the good ones will have gone.”

Ron groaned. “Who are you going with, then?”

Fred didn’t reply. Instead, he rolled another paper ball and lobbed it at Angelina, who turned to Fred, mouthing "What?"

He asked her to the ball. He asked her to the ball. When she nodded in response, your chest tightened painfully.

You felt your chest constrict as you watched the exchange. He asked Angelina. The words echoed in your mind, drowning out the noise around you.

You buried your face in your parchment, pretending to be absorbed in your work, but Hermione’s hand on your arm told you she saw right through you.

Fred glanced at you briefly, his gaze almost apologetic, but you refused to meet his eyes. Instead, you leaned closer to Hermione, trying to block him out.

Whatever, you were going with George anyway, why did Fred matter.

___

The night of the ball arrived, and you met George at the entrance. He was charming as ever, complimenting your dress with a sincere warmth that made you feel beautiful.

“You look stunning,” George said as he approached, his grin warm and genuine.

“Thanks, and you look very handsome” you replied, offering a small smile as he led you inside.

The Hall was breathtaking, transformed into a winter wonderland. But as your eyes scanned the room, they immediately found Fred, your heart faltered at the sight of him with Angelina. He looked devastatingly handsome in his dress robes, his hair neatly combed, though still with that familiar unruly edge.

Fred caught your eye for a fleeting moment, his lips curving into a faint smile, but he quickly turned away. You forced yourself to smile and focused on George, determined not to let your emotions show.

“Let’s say hi,” George suggested, steering you toward his twin.

Fred’s eyes met yours as you approached, and for a moment, everything else faded away. But then he turned to Angelina, jealousy flashing in his gaze before he quickly hid it.

The night went on, the music swelling and laughter filling the air. You danced with George, smiled for the photos, and laughed with friends, but your heart wasn’t in it. Fred was never far from your thoughts, and you couldn’t stop glancing his way.

You sat at the table with George, Lee and Oliver, having some punch to hydrate yourselves after all that dancing.

Across the room, Fred’s gaze kept finding you, a flicker of longing evident in his eyes, though you never noticed.

When he wasn't looking, your eyes found him, and when you glanced away, his gaze found you.

You watched as he laughed with Angelina, something stirred inside you, wishing that was you. Around the room, couples were dancing happily, laughter echoing throughout the room which you drowned out.

You always knew you liked Fred, but this was the first time your emotions felt stronger than ever. You'd never dare admit it, but your heart ached for him, and tonight was the tipping point.

Turning to George, you excused yourself for some air, slipping out into the courtyard as tears welled up.

The first raindrops began to fall as you sat on a bench, cold air biting against your skin as your tears slowly spilled over despite your efforts to hold them back.

You didn't care about the rain; you just sat there.

___

Back inside, Fred’s eyes followed you as you left, a slight frown played upon his lips as he watched you scurry out.

“Go,” Angelina said softly, nudging him.

“What?” Fred asked, startled.

“She likes you, Fred. And it’s obvious you like her too, I see the way you look at her. Stop being an idiot and do something about it.” She chuckled.

Realisation dawned on his face, and without another word, he ran after you.

The rain was pouring by the time he found you. Without thinking, he took off his blazer and held it over your head as he approached. You looked up seeing a tall figure tower over you, holding a blazer over you.

He got soaked, but didn't mind one bit, as long as it kept you dry.

“Mind some company?” he asked, sitting beside you, now extending the blazer over his head too, leaving the two of you huddled under his blazer together.

“Fred, just go,” you said, not looking at him.

“Not a chance,” he replied, his voice soft. “You shouldn’t be out here alone. Crying, no less.”

You turned to him, your heart breaking all over again. “Shouldn’t you be with Angelina?”

Fred shook his head. “There’s nothing between us." He continued, "You do know that she has a thing for George, right?”

“Then why didn’t you—” You stopped yourself, unable to finish the thought.

“Because I was too much of a coward to ask you,” Fred admitted, his voice raw. “George knew that, so he stepped in, he just needed to push my buttons that git. But it’s always been you. Only you.”

Your breath caught, and for a moment, the world stood still.

“Fred...”

“I mean it,” he said, his eyes searching yours. “You’re the one I’ve wanted all along.”

Tears welled up again, but this time they were different. You laughed softly, shaking your head. “How did the wrong twin ask the wrong date to the ball?”

Fred chuckled, his hand reaching to tuck a strand of wet hair behind your ear. “Guess we’re both idiots.”

You leaned closer, and Fred closed the distance, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that made everything else fade away.

The kiss was as sweet as his words were, you tasted a linger of punch he drank from earlier, "Mhm, sweet." You giggled. He smiled into the kiss, before leaning back in for another kiss, removing the blazer from above so he could hold you closer to him.

Fred pulled you closer by the waist, holding you like he was going to lost you. "Merlin, you're the most beautiful girl to ever exist." He complimented sincerely.

You blushed, looking down, "Stop it..." you scoff but bit back a smile.

His inspected your face, eyes darting from your eyes to your lips, smiling as he did so. The look of love. And you into his, those warm hazel eyes you always dreamed of, finally looking at you in this light.

The soft hum of music floated through the night air, carried from the Great Hall to the quiet courtyard. The sound of a slow, enchanting melody was muffled by the rain but still audible enough to make your heartpace increase.

“They’re playing a slow one now,” he said, his gaze fixed on you.

His hazel eyes warmer than the rain, a playful yet nervous smile tugging at his lips. “Dance with me.”

You blinked, caught completely off guard. “What?”

“Dance with me,” he repeated, standing up and holding a hand out to you. Raindrops clung to his hair, the dim light from the castle casting a faint glow around him. “It’d be a shame to let a good song go to waste.”

You stared at his hand, your heart fluttering as you hesitated. “Fred, it’s raining.”

“All the better.” He grinned, his usual confidence creeping back into his voice. “Come on, Y/N. You’re already soaked, and we’re already out here. What’ve we got to lose?”

Despite yourself, you laughed softly, shaking your head. “You’re absurd.”

“And yet, here you are, sitting next to me.” He wiggled his fingers, his hand still extended. “Now, are you going to make me stand here looking like a git, or are you going to dance with me?”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t fight the smile spreading across your face. With a sigh of surrender, you placed your hand in his, letting him pull you to your feet.

The rain was cool against your skin as Fred tugged you closer, one hand resting lightly on your waist, the other still holding your hand.

You hesitated, unsure of where to place your free hand, and he chuckled, guiding it to his shoulder.

“There,” he said softly. “Not so hard, is it?”

The music from the hall swirled around you both as he began to sway, leading you gently. You stumbled at first, unprepared for the sudden closeness, but Fred’s grip was steady, his steps smooth and sure.

“You’re not bad at this,” you teased, looking up at him.

He smirked. “Told you. Miles better than Georgie.”

That made you laugh, and the sound seemed to light up his whole face. The tension from earlier melted away, replaced by a warmth that had nothing to do with the music or the rain.

The world around you blurred, the rain and the music creating a cocoon of quiet intimacy. Fred twirled you unexpectedly, making you gasp before pulling you back against him, his grin wide and mischievous.

“Show-off,” you said breathlessly.

“Only for you,” he replied, his voice softer now, his teasing tone giving way to something more sincere.

You looked up at him, rainwater dripping from your hair, and for a moment, you forgot about the ball, about Angelina, about anything else. It was just Fred—Fred with his warm eyes, his heartfelt grin, and his hands that held you like you were the only thing that mattered.

“Fred…” you started, unsure of what you wanted to say.

But he stopped swaying, his hand gently brushing a strand of wet hair from your face. “I meant what I said earlier,” he murmured. “It’s always been you, Y/N.”

Your breath hitched, his words sinking in like the rain soaking through your clothes. “Fred, I—”

“You don’t have to say anything,” he interrupted, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “I just…I needed you to know.”

For a moment, you stood there, staring at him, the music from the hall swelling in the background. Then, without thinking, you leaned up on your toes, closing the space between you.

The kiss was soft and slow, rain falling around you as if the world had stopped for just the two of you. Fred’s hand cupped your face gently, the other still resting on your waist, pulling you closer. When you finally pulled back, he was grinning, his forehead resting against yours.

“So, how’s this for a Yule Ball memory?” he asked, his voice warm and teasing.

You laughed, your cheeks flushing despite the cold. “It’s perfect.”

“Good,” he said, spinning you one last time before pulling you back into his arms. “Because I don’t think I’m letting you go anytime soon.”

And as the rain continued to fall and the music from the Great Hall drifted through the night, you realised that, for once, you didn’t mind getting soaked.

[madamechrissy]

Baby You're a Star- chap three preview

Pornstar Gojo WILL be out tomorrow!!! One more preview <3 Do NOT read if you haven't read part two!

Pairings- Pornstar! Satoru x shy f!reader

Warnings - NSFW- oral sex (m recieving) mentions of cum, Gojo's dick is broken bc of reader poor baby! Mentions of sex, filming porn, dom/sub undertones -taglist closed but everyone on it will get tagged in the update! rough draft and not edited so excuse any typos!

It's here

“Fuck, I’ve made a mess, need someone to clean me all up.” Satoru whispers, while you barely are able to hold up the camera any longer, the livestream is avid with questions, namely - who is filming Satoru Gojo? And offers from many viewers to lick every bit of him up.

Satoru should stare at the camera, but he’s looking up into your eyes instead, stroking his cum soaked length slowly, just pumping more cum out of his tip, so much it’s ridiculous, dripped down to his balls and inner thighs. You swallow nervously, tummy clenched with desire, knowing you needed to stay quiet for the stream of curious viewers.

Satoru murmurs cut then, and  you do just that, shutting off the feed, and setting down the phone with a shaky hand, clearing your throat. “They loved it I think.”

“C’mere.” He crooks two fingers, and you eagerly obey, walking up to him now, tempting him to no end with the way your eyes drink him in. “On your knees, sweetheart.”

You obey again, eagerly in fact, looking up at him under lowered lashes as his clean hand slips up the side of your pretty neck, then around to the nape of it, entangling in your locks. Your soft whine and shift of your hips are all he needs to know you’re enjoying it, your hands obediently on your thighs, as if waiting for his every order, so sexy he feels his cock twitch back to life.

“Do you want to clean me up?” He asks softly, but the command in his tone is there, you nod and he exhales, tugging you towards him then. “Then do a really good job, sweets. Lick every bit clean like a good girl, and I’ll reward you.”

“I’ll do a good job.” Your whisper wrecks him, as he guides your head down, and you suck him, still hard, into your hot, eager mouth. Your soft whine vibrates around him, his head falling back as your mouth moves.

He can’t help but think of earlier.

A date, you were gonna go on a date, and he hates the idea, no, he fucking detests the idea in fact, the rage alone making him fuck your throat deeper, harder, feeling you gag and choke on him instead of anyone else. He shouldn’t feel possessive over his friend, a friend who’s sucking his cum, who’s swallowing him up, all he can think is his, his, his.

But you weren’t his.

How could you ever be?

Satoru’s never felt anything better than your throat, except he’s a million percent sure your cunt is better, he knows it would suck him up so greedy. When tears fall from your pretty eyes, it’s hotter than any blow job he’s had on set, the eagerness and desperate need to please far surpasses experience, your glasses fogging up when you pull back to take a breath then.

Satoru looks at his slick, spit covered cock, to thin trails of saliva disintegrating between your lips as you pull back, swiping at your lower lip. “How did I do?”

“Perfect.” His whisper is genuine, the words feel too good, you know you should stop, that you already wish he was yours, but you’re too addicted to how those blue eyes make you feel like you’re the only girl there is.

Even if it’s an illusion, a trick of your brain, or a practiced look.

The feeling is too euphoric not to be corrupted by it.

“You did such a good job, look at it, not any cum left. You sucked it all down, so greedy huh?” His hand comes under your chin, squeezing your neck gently yet so possessive, he wants to say it - his - but he knows he can’t. But it’s too easy to teeter off the edge, when your breaths come faster, breasts pressed up in that dress, rising and falling with each one.

“Satoru… I can keep going.” Your soft voice nearly ends him, little hand stroking his cock again.

“I was thinking of something, but if you don’t want to, it's okay.” You blink a bit then, tilting your head, tendrils falling against your bare shoulders.

“What is it?”

“A scene with me, but not showing your face at all,” your gasp and pull back makes him sigh. “It’d be like me eating your pussy, we could have it zoomed so no one sees your face.”

The thought, along with Satoru's sweet cum down your throat makes your tummy clench, while he brings out more and more of you that you did not know existed. Your hands tense on his thighs now, taking a shaky breath, fingers along the downy hair on his thighs. “I don’t… Satoru you have a million options for costars-”

“I want yours. It’s the prettiest I’ve ever fucking seen.”

“Satoru…”

“It is. Wanna argue about my expertise here?” You just get more flustered and flushed, looking down nervously, but he tilts your chin with his big hand, angling your gaze upward. “I’ll split all the pay, you get eaten out, and anonymously. I’d never tell anyone, I’d never risk your career or anything. But I do need to do one, and I hate the thought of it not…” Satoru trails off now, the words sinking in.

“You like eating me out that much?” Your whisper makes him chuckle then, nodding and swallowing nervously.

“That pussy is perfect. How about we film it, and you watch it, and if you don’t want to, I just keep it to jerk off to…” Shit, he said that.

He’s so desperate and pathetic.

I'm exciteddd, it's almost done bbs <3 It's gonna be angsty, smutty and MESSY

perm tagsss- @alt--er--love @nanasukii28 @cuntphoric @loafteaw @n1vi @indiewritesxoxo @miizuzu @beachaddict48 @honeybunnnnie @re-tired-succubus @gojosukuna2268 @waterfal-ling @1brii @wise-fangirl @moncher-ire @orikixx @uhnosav @baepsays @designerpvssy @orixxxana @airandyeah @nina-from-317 @evelynxxo @naammiii @soyokosuguru @espresso1patronum @tomboy-disaster @iam-souless @lanii-i @cristy-101 @doeeyestoji @cvixmei @mutsu422 @ivyvenus333 @g00seg1rl @suki91 @satoao-main @fairygardenprincesss @theonlyjuggernaut @huntyhuntycunty @lovelockdownff @ibreathesmut @s777athv @twinklywinkly @akiii143 @squeezyvalkyrie @cookielovesbook-akie @oinksa @grignardsreagent @shokosbunny

[harryspet]

bambi eyes (7) r.cameron

[Warnings] soft!dark!rafe cameron x reader, daddy!rafe x little!reader older!rafe, crimeboss!rafe, dd/lg, sugar daddy rafe, spoiling kink, little space, reader is feeling extra small, little editing, barry doing barry things 18+ READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

A/N: Finally!!

word count: 4.2k

In which your Daddy wants to take you on a business trip but you're feeling way too little to want to tag along.

masterlist

Rafe pressed his phone between his shoulder and ear, needing to free both his hands to attend to you. Tears streamed down your face as you squirmed around on the sunroom couch. Two small swollen spots were on your arm, bee stings, but you were flailing so much that Rafe could barely get a good look. Unfortunately, Rafe was on the phone when the incident happened, and he and Barry were discussing today’s important plans. 

“It hurts!” you cried out, and Rafe could only assume that you’d never been stung by anything before. You woke up pouty, with Rafe sensing that you were on edge, maybe disappointed that Lana had been gone for so long, but this seemed to be the final straw for you: “It hurts!”

“What’s all the drama, Country Club?”

“Got stung by some bees,” Rafe spoke tersely, trying to pin your arm down, “I know, baby, I know. Gotta get the stingers out.”

He pressed his body weight against your hip, gaining better leverage to keep you still. Holding your arm tightly, he used a card from his wallet to scrape the area side to side. This only seemed to distress you more, but this was the best way he knew how to get rid of them. 

“Please, please, please,” You begged over and over, “It hurts, Daddy.”

“She gonna be okay for the trip?” Rafe heard Barry ask. 

“Yeah, don’t worry. She’s gonna love it,” Rafe grunted, keeping you pinned underneath him. 

Maybe this was a sign, Rafe thought. The morning so far had been terrible and no good for you, he didn't want to add further to your discomfort. With relative ease, Rafe got both stingers out, but you were still in pain, that was clear, “Stay right there, don’t move,” Rafe spoke sternly before he moved from on top of you, “Gonna get you some ice.”

“Don’t wanna go–please don’t leave me,” Rafe huffed at your immediate refusal of his command. He had no idea why you’d gotten so riled up. For time and argument’s sake, Rafe lifted you into his arms. He carried you back into the house and towards the kitchen. 

“Sterling was pretty willing to stop stealing your workers and spreading rumors about the company, yet he wants to meet again. You don’t think it’s shady he wants to meet outside of Kildare?”

“He wants more,” Rafe said as he sat you down on the kitchen island. He grabbed his phone again with his hand as he started to rummage through the freezer, “That’s the only possible reason.”

“And you want to hear him out? What else do we need from him?”

“What, you don’t think we need him?” Rafe countered, “You’re the one who gave me the idea in the first place.”

“I just …” Barry started, “I didn’t think you would want to go further.” 

“I’m not–It’s not a big deal,” Rafe shook his head as he finally picked out an icepack. Rafe’s mind was split between the urgent need to soothe your pain and the looming business discussions with Barry. A huge real estate investment convention was being held at some fancy hotel in Charleston and Sterling had chosen it as the setting of their next meeting. 

With the ice pack in hand, he returned swiftly to where you sat on the kitchen island, visibly distressed and still sniffling from the bee stings. “Here, baby. Hold that against your arm for me. It’ll make it feel better.”

Reluctantly, you held the icepack against your injury. The tears had stopped falling, but Rafe could sense that you were starting to grow upset with him rather than the bee sting. 

Rafe leaned against the counter, trying to ignore your glare and focus back on the conversation. "It’ll be a good chance to see who he’s connected with, maybe find some new business partners. I wanna see what else he’s after,” Rafe explained. “You didn’t see how desperate he acted at the club … I know we can get much more out of him. Like you said, everyone has a weakness.”

“We could use his connections,” Barry conceded, “But you don’t think he’s gonna maybe want an actual chance with Bambi?”

“I know how to handle this. I won’t let him get close enough to think he actually has a chance.”

“Huh,” Rafe could practically feel Barry’s uncertainty through the phone.

“Barry,” Rafe continued, his tone sharp and commanding, “I want everything ready. We’re taking three cars—two SUVs and the truck. You’ll drive the SUV with two guards, and me and Bambi will ride in the truck, and we’ll need another two men riding behind us. You’ll lead the way to Charleston. We won’t need it, but I want backup, extra firepower, the works.” 

Without another word, Rafe hung up the phone call, throwing his cell phone onto the counter. 

Next, Rafe searched for the first aid kit underneath the sink, “Are you angry, Daddy?”

“No,” Rafe said, looking into your eyes. “You know how Barry and I talk to each other. Daddy’s not mad.”

“Who were you talking about?” You brought your uninjured arm up to wipe your wet face. 

“We’re going on a trip,” As you stared at him, Rafe pulled out a red first aid kit. He set it on the counter before he rummaged through it, pulling out the tools he needed. “Remember Mr. Sterling? Daddy’s got some business to handle with him.”

You flinched when Rafe dragged an alcohol wipe across your skin, but he placed a hand on your waist, steadying you. You were much more compliant, much calmer when Rafe’s skin was against yours. 

“Oh,” You spoke simply and Rafe searched your eyes for the thoughts swirling behind them, “My arm hurts.” 

Rafe sighed, finding the pack of bandaids, “I know, Bambi. You want a pink or green bandaid?” 

“Where’s the Cinderella ones?” Your lips pouted as you looked down at the options Rafe presented you. 

“I don’t know. We must be out. You can have pink or green.” As your frowned deepened, Rafe took a deep breath, trying to hold his tongue, “Pick. Or Daddy’s gonna pick for you.” 

Reluctantly you reached out a finger and pointed to the pink bandaid. Rafe carefully placed it over the sting. 

Rafe leaned back, studying your face for lingering distress. “After this morning, I think a little vacation would make you feel better,” he said softly, brushing a stray tear from your cheek. “I’m taking care of everything. I just need you to be good.” 

“I want Lana to come with us.”

“She has the week off, remember?”

“What am I supposed to do while you’re working? You can call her, maybe? Maybe she’ll want to come.” 

“She’s with her family, Bambi. All week. I’m not gonna bother her,” Rafe spoke, finality in his tone. 

He closed the first aid kit and pushed it aside. “You’ll be fine without Lana. You’ve got me. I’ll keep you busy.” He tilted his head, trying to meet your gaze, but you were still pouting, your fingers fiddling with the edge of the pink bandaid he’d applied moments earlier.

“You’re always working,” you muttered, looking down at your arm. “You won’t have time.”

Rafe’s jaw tightened, but his tone remained measured. “When I’m not working, I’m with you. Today’s no different. You’re gonna love it. We’ll stay in a big room and you can order whatever food you want and they’ll bring it to you.”

Your lips twitched as if considering a smile, but the pout remained. “But Lana always packs good snacks.”

“Bambi,” Rafe chuckled, stepping closer to wrap an arm around your waist. “I can pack snacks. I know what you like, don’t I? 

“Okay,” you mumbled reluctantly. 

Rafe smirked, satisfied with your compliance, before he lifted you off the counter and onto your feet, “No more tears, yeah? I don’t like seeing you upset.”

You nodded, watching as Rafe returned to his phone and began typing furiously. Your face fell again, and you realized that you craved Rafe’s undivided attention. Rafe’s “work” was beginning to bother you. When you stood in place, he looked up at you once more, “Why don’t you go upstairs and start packing baby? Put on something comfortable for the drive.”

You parted your lips but closed them quickly. You considered just being grateful that Rafe was taking you along on his business trip. After all, you hadn’t left the island the entire time you’d been with Rafe. Wasn’t there part of you that wanted to see more of the world? You ignored that voice in your head. Today, all you felt was that you wanted to be in bed, cuddled up to Rafe. You moped all the way up the stairs, and once you got to your room, you plopped sadly down onto your plush carpet. 

Rafe tried to organize his thoughts and keep everything he needed to do in line. He’d surprised himself with how much responsibility he’d been able to handle after caring for you for so long. He certainly wasn’t the man he used to be. Every step he made now was for you. 

Still, he was beginning to realize just how much he relied on Lana, how much she had helped both of you. Now, it was all on him. Between packing business attire, sorting through important documents, confirming meetings, and delegating tasks to his employees, he also had to make sure his truck was ready for the road. And then there was you, your lunch had to be packed, along with plenty of snacks, your favorite water bottle adorned with pink bows, and a tablet with headphones to keep you entertained. More importantly, to keep you from overhearing the kinds of conversations he didn’t want you listening to.

He finally felt on top of things, Barry and his men had arrived, and the cars were readied in driveway. But the moment he climbed the stairs and stepped into your room, that sense of control vanished. His jaw tightened at the sight before him. You were sitting on the carpet in the poofiest pink dress you owned, tears streaking your cheeks as you fumbled with a ribbon, your small hands trembling in frustration as you struggled to tie a bow in your hair.

“Bambi, baby. We’re gonna be in the car for hours. It’s not dress up time,” Rafe chided. 

“Don’ wanna’ go,” You hiccuped. Looking around the room, Rafe saw no sign that you’d actually begun gathering anything for the trip, “Please.”

Rafe consciously took a deep breath to steady his heart rate. The last thing he wanted to do was take out his frustration on you when you were in this state. He walked over to your armoire and picked out an appropriate outfit for you. 

Sitting down on the carpet with you, Rafe easily grabbed you by your hips and pulled you into his lap, “What’s going on with you, huh?” Rafe asked, tilting your chin to look him in the eyes. He brushed a finger across your cheek, wiping away tears. 

You pouted in response and Rafe’s lips pressed into a thin line. He grabbed the thick tulle of your dress at your waist and started to pull it up your torso. You started to wiggle a but Rafe only pulled you closer, “Arms up, c’mon,” Rafe encouraged. He pressed down the urge to discipline, to become impatient at the fact that you were delaying their departure.  

Instead, he stripped the dress off in one swift motion, letting the poofy fabric pool beside you before reaching for the soft, light green Tinker Bell baby tee he’d picked out.

Sliding each of your arms through the sleeves, he tilted his head, studying you as he pulled the fabric down over your torso. "Are you too little to dress yourself today, Bambi?" he asked, his tone laced with curiosity. A theory was already forming in his mind, a quiet suspicion about what was really behind your unusual behavior.

You nodded shyly before laying forward, resting your head on his shoulder. “I see, hmm. You’ll need Daddy’s help then,” Rafe sighed, now fully understanding you were slipping into a younger head space. Instinctively, his hands smoothed over your back. For so long, you’d been determined to be independent, eager to explore the world, to make friends at ballet, to learn and grow on your own terms. He had been so focused on giving you freedom within the boundaries he set. He hadn’t considered how much comfort you might find in letting go completely. In regressing.

And now, here you were, seeking the security of his presence, of his care. Holding you tight in one hand, he reached into the pocket of his jeans. He texted Barry to give him twenty more minutes. He held you there for a few minutes longer and debated how he would coerce you into the car. 

“You want some bows in your hair, baby?” He asked after a moment and you nodded against his shoulder. He reached for the one you were fumbling with earlier, “Daddy’s gonna bring you to the bathroom, okay?”

He carried you to the bathroom, placing you on the cool counter as he tended to your hair. It wasn’t his best work but he managed to tie some ribbons around the two curly buns on top of your head, “Look, there’s my beautiful, baby,” Rafe kissed you on your forehead, then nose, then both of your cheeks, until you couldn’t help the small smile that formed on your lips, “Let’s get you ready. Don’t worry, Daddy will do everything.” 

He dressed you in a light, yellow tennis skirt with comfortable built-in shorts, the soft fabric swishing as he adjusted it on your hip. Packing a pair of converse in your bag, he let you remain in your flower-printed socks. He doubted you would get to the car in any other way than in his arms. 

Making sure you had things to do in the car and a few stuffed animals, he packed the rest of the things you needed, mostly outfits for the rest of weekend, into your suitcase. Satisfied that everything was in order, he zipped up your bright pink suitcase and set it aside. Now, all that was left was getting you to the car which, as he expected, would likely mean carrying you there himself.

When the two of you finally made it out of the front door, Rafe found Barry leaning against the hood of his SUV, “What’s the hold up?” Barry asked immediately, his sharp gaze flicking between Rafe and the way you clung to him.

Rafe was too focused, though. Without so much as a glance, he handed off your bright pink suitcase, dropping it into Barry’s hands with an unspoken expectation.

Rafe opened the passenger door, settling you into your seat and buckling you in. He placed a stuffed giraffe in your arms, making sure your water was in the cupholder, and you could reach your backpack. You looked up at him with sad eyes, your lips starting to tremble, “What is it?” Rafe asked, eyes full of concern. 

“Need Bunny,” you murmured, your voice small.

Of course, Rafe had forgotten the most important thing, your American Girl doll, “Where’d you leave her, baby?” 

When you only shrugged, Rafe sighed, raking a hand through his hair. “Okay, stay here. Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

Closing the door securely, he rounded the truck, his stride purposeful as he shot Barry a glance. “We’re leaving in two minutes.”

Barry scoffed but didn’t argue, watching as Rafe disappeared back inside the house.

You awoke to Rafe opening the passenger door. Carefully, he slipped off your headphones before pausing the Disney movie that you were watching on your tablet. You started to stir as Rafe undid your seatbelt. You whined, “Let’s stretch those little legs, Bambi,” Rafe spoke softly in response, “We’re halfway there.” 

You yawned, reaching out to him, even half asleep. Rafe tried to explain gently that he wouldn’t be able to carry you in public. To keep you from having a full meltdown, he promised he wouldn’t let go of your hand. 

You swung your legs over the side of the seat and Rafe was able to help you slip on your shoes, tying your laces quickly. When you finally got to your feet, you were wobbly. Rafe smoothed out your skirt for you, ensuring it wasn’t riding up in the back, before he grabbed your hand. 

“Where..” You started, pausing as you rubbed your eyes with your free hand. 

“Gas station. Let’s go pick some snacks, yeah?” 

“Candy?” You perked up. 

“One candy,” Rafe agreed. 

You spotted Barry, filling up at the gas pump directly behind the one Rafe had parked at. You liked Barry, he was nice to you, even if he usually had harsh words with your Daddy. He flashed his gold tooth at you, offering a small wave, but you tucked your face into Rafe’s arm, hiding yourself. You felt overwhelmingly shy, still, despite know him well. 

Rafe held your hand as you stepped inside, your eyes taking in everything around you with wide, sleepy curiosity. The air inside the station was cool and the fluorescent lights flickered softly above.

The gas station was quiet, typical for this time of day, with just a few locals milling around, most of them grabbing their own snacks or paying for their gas.

You clung to Rafe’s hand, your fingers curled tight around his, your sleepy eyes still darting around the store. You weren’t quite sure where to look first. The shelves lined with brightly colored candy wrappers drew your attention, but so did the rows of chips and juice boxes.

He walked with you toward the candy aisle. You let go of Rafe’s hand for just a second, standing on your tiptoes to try and see the top shelf. There were so many choices but your eyes always came back to a package of gummy worms. Rafe stood behind you, his arms crossed, watching as you took your time. 

You finally picked up the bag and held it up to him, the smile on your face shy. You glanced back at the candy before you asked with a small, barely audible voice, “One for Barry?”

Rafe looked over at Barry through the glass windows, still pumping gas outside, “You want to get something for Barry?”

You nodded and something flickered in Rafe’s eyes, something dark, maybe anger or possessiveness, “Fine, you can pick one thing.” 

When you’d picked out another bag of gummy wors for Barry, you followed Rafe as he grabbed a large bottle of water and a bag of chips. After Rafe paid for everything with his black card, you followed him back through the parking lot. You looked up at Rafe expectantly as you approached the three vehicles all of you were traveling in. 

“It’s your gift, you give it to him,” Rafe said. His look of encouragement was slightly forced but he placed a small hand on your back, urging you forward, “Go, little girl. I’m right here.”

“Here,” you said quietly, when your hesitant steps finally brought you over to the Barry’s car. In the passenger seat, you saw a tall and muscular man that you didn’t recognize. You looked away from him quickly, focusing on Barry. You placed the bag in his hand.“Candy… for you.”

Barry looked down, clearly surprised, but his lips curled into a grin. “Well, look at that,” he drawled, “That’s mighty sweet of you. Thank you, Bambi.”

Rafe, standing off to the side, shot Barry a sharp look, his jaw tightening ever so slightly. 

You nodded, fingers curling around the edge of your skirt before you turned and walked back towards Rafe. With one last glance toward Barry, who was still standing by the SUV, Rafe slid his hand to the small of your back, guiding you back to the truck.

The Uptown Grand sits in the heart of Charleston’s historic district, a five-star hotel that exudes old-world Southern charm. The bustling energy of the high-end real estate development convention provided the perfect backdrop for your Daddy's plans. He didn’t seem to flinch at the curious glances from the occasional attendee who dared to acknowledge his entourage. To most, he was a shadow moving through the crowd, and to those few who did give him a second glance, his quiet authority was all too clear.

Rafe sat you on top of a stack of suitcases that sat on the luggage cart, keeping you out of the way, as he handled checking in to the opulent hotel. A song from the Little Mermaid played in your headphones as your eyes wandered everywhere, to the soft velvet curtains, polished marble floors, and all of the antique, gold chandeliers. In the center of the lobby was a large fountain that added an unexpected calm to the environment. You watched as men and women in impeccable business attire navigated the space, their footsteps purposeful, conversations hushed but intense.

You shifted slightly, taking it all in, feeling like a quiet observer in a world that wasn’t quite yours. Bringing you back down to earth, Barry offered you a gummy worm and you happily accepted, having ate all of yours hours ago. 

You tuned out as Rafe began to push the cart towards the elevator, walking along with Barry, they talked about business things that you didnt understand. You adjusted your headphones, looking down at the sorting game you’d been playing on your tablet. 

You rode on the cart all the way from the elevator to the hotel suite. Your room had double doors and sat at the end of the hallway. Barry was in the room right next door and you watched as Rafe spoke some parting words before you both entered your room. The door shut and Rafe swiftly helped you down from the spot where you were perched. Still enjoying your calming music, you walked around the room, setting your tablet down on the coffee table in the seating area. 

The furniture and decor was extravagant, even more so than at Tannyhill. High ceilings stretched above you and warm light casted golden hues on the room. You wandered further, into the bedroom, finding a king-sized bed dressed in soft looking sheets and a tufted headboard that stretched nearly to the ceiling. The en-suite, visible from the bedroom, featured those same marble floors from the lobby and gold fixtures. 

You were still taking it all in when you felt strong arms wrap around you, Rafe pulling your body into his. He tucked his head into your neck, placing kisses there, until you were giggling. When he loosened his grip, you turned to face him. He slowly lifted your headphones, grinning tiredly down at you, “It’s been a long day,” He said, “A bath and then it’s bedtime, okay?”

You didn’t argue, just melted against him. 

He lifted you, carrying you into the bathroom. You sat on the counter, swinging your legs idly, watching him with tired eyes as he ran the bath, testing the temperature with his hand. You watched him undress, your cheeks heating up at the sight of his sculpted figure. After he undressed you, the two of you slipped into the water. You settled between his knees, laying back against his chest. He arms curled around your middle and for awhile there was only silence. Just the rhythmic sound of water against porcelain, the steady rise and fall of his breath against your shoulder. 

When you were close to falling asleep, Rafe guided a soapy cloth over your skin, getting you clean. 

“Bambi,” Rafe spoke softly, “I have to tell you something.”

You hummed in response, loving the feeling of his gentle hands, “This weekend is very important to Daddy. You’ve already been a good girl but I need you to be Daddy’s perfect angel. Everything I say, or Barry says, you do. Do you understand?” 

“Mhm, Daddy,” You murmured, feeling his arms tighten around you in approval, “Can I ask somethin’?”

“Course, baby.”

“Wha…”  You tried to put your words together, choosing each one carefully, “Wha do you want from Mr. Sterling?”

Rafe went quiet for a moment. You turned your head to peak at him, “Everything, I think.”

“Everything,” You repeated, blinking up at him. 

“Mhm,” He presses a kiss to your temple, “Everything pretty and shiny. All the toy’s he doesn’t play with correctly. He’s sitting on a whole kingdom, doens’t even know how to run it. Doesn’t know how to take care of it.”

You scrunched your nose, thinking, “You’ll ask him for it?” 

“Something like that, baby,” Rafe’s lips twitched as if he was holding back a smirk, “Just gonna help him understand. Help him see things my way.”

“Daddy’s so smart,” You sighed, snuggling against him. 

Rafe hummed, pleased. “That’s right, angel,” he whispered against your hair. “And my baby’s gonna be extra good for me, huh?”

“Uh-huh,” you mumbled sleepily. “I’ll be so, so good…”

hope you enjoyed!! a reblog w/ your thoughts would be much appreciated :)

[mayullla]

Title: His Dream Wife

Character(s): Richard (Original character / Original work)

Synopsis: He always wanted a perfect family, but life never gave him what he wanted. Instead, he was blackmailed into marrying a gold digger. But after seeing you for the first time the wife of his friend all he could think of was you. So don't mind him when he was given the option to swap his wife's consciousness with yours he took that chance immediately.

Warnings/tags: Yandere Dilf x meek reader, yandere pov, general yandere themes, body swap between reader and Yandere's wife, cheating (not done by reader), arranged, baby trapping, Yandere wants that traditional wife and lifestyle. Word count: 4.2k (Please tell me if I miss anything!)

Note: I just finished reading the webtoon "Marry My Husband," so you can probably see many small ideas taken from it in this story!

Ever since he was young, Richard had fantasies and dreams of a perfect family. He always loved the idea of someone relying on him just as much as he would on them, and someone who would love him exclusively and trust him completely. Maybe that was why he liked wolves, having been told back then that those animals would mate for life. He liked that. He wanted that. Friends were nice there is nothing wrong with that. But there is something about a family that he wanted. Maybe it was because he was jealous back then of how affectionate his grandparents were between each other, while his parents were far from that.

That was what he wanted and well maybe he started to want a little more the older he got. He wanted what his grandparents had, he wanted what the movies had… he wanted what his fantasies had. He loved the idea of a family, coming back from work to an affectionate housewife with her tummy big inside a second or third child while holding the first. The idea of kisses between each other, while his lover irrupts in giggles, playfully pushing him back telling him that he should not let the food turn cold or let the kids see them.

Someone he could spoil and give everything to while she relied on him and his money. He would work hard every day just for her and the kids, to give them the home they deserve. She would give back by cooking and cleaning the house, anybody knows that those things are hard work and everything takes time. But she would do it for the both of them, for him. 

Yet he wasn't able to attain that dream. He wasn't allowed to have it. He attracted the attention of a viel woman, who had used any and every blackmail to tie him down to her. He was a manager at a big company already quickly climbing up but also came from a rich family, he unwantedly got the attention of a woman who was greedy for money and something handsome. 

And her own manager was ripe for the picking.

She did many things but somehow he was able to avoid many of them however that could only go on for so long. She was cunning, too smart for her own good. He didn't know how she did it, it made him furious at what she did waking up in a hotel with her right beside him. He had no memories of the night yet she did when she told everyone that she had his baby a month later.

Everyone was frantic, his parents especially who cared so much about their appearance and reputation than anything else. While he hated them for the lack of love or care only forcing him to their whims to get a word above their acquaintances and rivals. The idea of him their own son mudding their name with the fact that he got someone pregnant without marriage made them furious. They wanted him to marry her immediately and he had no choice not when they held his job, reputation, and life above him not when that woman too did the same with her connections and people behind the scenes. It was idiotic that he fell into her hands like this, no matter what he did she did not let go and sank her claws deep into his skin.

Richard wanted to know if this child was his, but there was no time when everybody demanded his and that woman didn't give him a chance to check. Only to cry after the marriage that the child from miscarriage due to stress from his selfishness. Many blamed him even though he knew that she was lying this whole time but no matter what he said her crocodile tears worked far better than any explanation.

He was furious, angered by everything that happened but he wasn't allowed to do anything he wasn't allowed to break up with her. His life, everything that he worked for had turned to nothing by this woman. She could care less about love or something genuine and only cared about his money, demanding that he give her money to go shopping to buy expensive brand items and clothing while also going to parties and bars with her friends coming back home late leaving only a mess with how drunk she was.

Some days she would not come home at all and he assumed that she was with another man, as he didn't give in to her sexual demands even if they were husband and wife. At this point, the idea of touching her body even her hand disgusted him.

He thought he lost everything, he felt hopeless when he could not break up with that woman who made sure that he could not have a divorce without destroying his reputation and paying her a huge amount of cash. She was insane.

Rather than be with her he would rather drown in his work in his office. The house smelled like her strong perfume that could only make his head hurt the moment he took one whiff of it even though that woman wasn't even in the house having already left to head to the next new bar that opened up in the city.

That was his life, he genuinely thought that this was his ending, a story that didn't end so well, yet unable to change anything with knives around his neck daring him to move. But in the end, nothing is concrete, sometimes all it takes is helping an old lady who just so happens to be a fortune teller. 

Typing away at his computer late at night in his office as he looked at the time, his thoughts could not help but let his thoughts drift for a moment. Richard closed his eyes slightly burning from looking at the laptop for too long. Leaning his chair, he pulled his tie down a little as he thought about this afternoon when he helped out a poor fortune teller the old woman after picking some stuff up at the market, who looked to be in her 80s stuck outside homeless and struggling to open her shop. As she had dropped something that had rolled towards him he picked it up and gave it to the old lady. He didn't know what moved him to help her. But as a present, he had gotten a small viel.

"Thank you for your help. You are quite the hard worker." The old woman said, sitting on the chair when everything was finally set up. She looked at him with a sly smile on her face. The old woman he later realized had a way of speaking, that wasn't normal. Weird yet at the same time sharp... too sharp. “Too bad you are stuck with such a mean spirit woman. How you handle such a woman for so long now… I am impressed.” Sharp as in she knew too much than he would have liked for a stranger to know.

"Buahahaha, don't worry boy this would be the last you would ever hear from me after this." The old woman laughed at his stiff glare. He didn't know how she did it but she seemed to know a lot about his relationship with his wife and the trouble that he was in yet at the same time she had a knack for poking at his sore spots. 

Before Richard could think about calling the police she suddenly pulled out a vial inside containing a blue liquid, "You help me with my little trouble so I want to give you a little something, that could help you with your own little trouble. Besides, I couldn't resist helping someone in need.” 

“A little swap potion, let your wife and your sweetheart drink it and they will swap at the start of the next day. The lil spell would wear off in a month but if there is nothing to return to… well then that means nothing could even happen. Dont yah think so boy? Haha!” He took the vial from the lady, thinking about throwing it when she was nowhere in sight. The creepy grin didn't match her so-called kind action, but she was not finished with talking.

“You better move fast my boy, that woman will make sure you will be dead before a year. It is very easy to hide evidence with a car crash.”

After that, it was difficult to throw the thin vial. Part of him could not drop the liquid into the bin, so he stored it on his office desk, locked but with a key, along with other important documents and such.

"Richard!! Why did you not show up at the dinner party?! Do you know how much embarrassment you have caused me?" his wife screamed. He couldn't help but groan in annoyance the moment he walked through the entrance. It was too early in the morning for such screaming, but she just continued on and on: "And why are you here now?!! It is the next day!? Explain yourself!"

"I don't need to explain myself to you at all." Walking past his wife who was glaring daggers at him. The more he learned about his wife the more he realized that she was similar to his parents, cared only about reputation, and was selfish putting themselves first before anything else. Hypocrites. "I had to finish up some work so I stayed at my office. I needed to finish all the file work before the meeting." Unlike a certain someone who would come home the next day afternoon after being in someone else's arms. 

Walking into his own home, he could not recognize it... everything was thrown about and trashed everywhere. Expensive decorations on the floor and shattered. Sofa and pillows ripped letting cotton spill from them. Walls wet and dirty with glass cups, and pots of plants shattered on the floor. Looking at everything he kept his anger internally holding everything in as he continued to walk towards his office and bedroom locked with a key.

This wasn't the first time this happened, he had found out that there was no use to teaching someone who saw no reason to change her ways. He just needs to call in some cleaners, replace the things that broke and that was it.

Heading to his home office to place his bag on the table he suddenly received a text on his phone. Pulling out the device to check who it was while the woman continued to scream at him.

"That doesn't explain why you didn't tell me you couldn't join the dinner!" It was because she wouldn't listen, no matter what. If he had told her, she would have either demanded that he come or screamed at him—first on the phone, then again when he got home. "Answer your phone when I call! Are you even listening to me?!"

He knew of the calls and messages. She had been calling non-stop and texting for an hour since he didn't come to her friends' dinner. He just didn't care to answer and left it on mute to let him focus on his work. Looking at the sender he couldn't help but sigh.

"Hey, I am talking to you!" Her shrill screaming was mind-numbing as he got his clothes unable to stand her voice and would rather change elsewhere. "RICHARD!!!"

He quickly left the house and got into his car, ignoring the high-heeled shoe that was thrown at him—missing as it landed. Starting the engine, he drove off, tuning out her shouts.

It was past midnight, and he was alone on the road. No one else was in sight. As he waited at a red light, he pulled out his phone to check a message. It was from a "friend" he had made at university, inviting him to dinner the next day. The guy had always been friendly—or at least tried to be. He had the personality of a know-it-all, and while he didn’t care for him much, it seemed the guy had once considered them friends. That was until money and popularity got to his head.

The guy knew a lot and had multiple connections and friends, he was the one who helped him find a cleaner will to keep silent about everything that happened in the house after the housemaid quit due to his wife assuming that he and the maid had done something sexual in the bedroom. The woman was crying as her hair had been pulled and her face slapped by his wife.

He also had seen the lust in that friend's eyes whenever he looked at her. Even after the guy was married for over a year he still looked at another wife with lust, it was disgusting to Richard that his friend would do such a thing but as the guy had helped him with a few of his troubles he didn't just cut him away.

The message was an invite for a double date. Having just left his house and his furious wife behind (not that he would ever take her anywhere unless absolutely forced), he tried to decline, saying that his wife was a bit "busy."

[Dude, dont worry about it and just come then.]

[Won't it be awkward for your wife?]

[It doesn't matter she would just say that it is fine either way.]

[Don't leave me here with her. You have already talked with her either way it is not a problem anymore. ]

From what he remembered it seemed that it was an arranged marriage between the two. Something that was decided by their parents for the benefit of their companies. The guy absolutely hated the fact that he was pushed into this marriage and had nothing good to say about his wife but that was a goody two shoes and boring. "She lacks the wildness that I am looking for." The guy said he was drinking in a bar one time having called him to express his frustrations after an official meeting with her. "She probably doesn't know anything except how to clean dishes.”

"I would not leave the house with a babe like yours. How do you keep everything in your pants?" The guy asked too drunk from all the alcohol to be careful with his words. "You might like my fiance a lot with your uptight attitude and lack of fun. Maybe we should switch wives later. Hey, wanna wife swap one time? It would be fun~~."

He had ignored the very obvious lust in the guy’s eyes, choosing not to address it and instead steer the conversation elsewhere. In the end, between hiccups, the guy told him he’d introduce him to his future wife and insisted that he should come to the wedding.

A few days later, with the invitation in hand, he attended the wedding. There, he saw the guy’s wife—and he was absolutely floored.

It was just a moment. A fleeting glimpse. He caught sight of her for only a second, walking toward his friend across the hall. Through the open door of the bride's room, he saw her, and he froze.

She was stunning.

He could not believe that a woman like you would become the wife of the guy. He wanted to take a step back to see you again, yet when his wife called him he was forced to start walking again not wanting to cause a scene due to her fickle pride. 

After all, he could see you again on the walkway when the wedding starts.

But he didn't want to leave either way.

Seated on the husband's side as the music stopped hinting to the guest that it was about to start soon. He watched as his friend walked the aisle, knowing but not commenting on the dirty slutish look his wife was giving to the guy looking at him up and down and waiting for you to show up.

You arrived soon after, dressed elegantly and sophisticated holding bouquets of flowers. He noticed how pretty you were, your walk and movements were elegant and soft, a far cry to his wife who walked to call the men's attention dressed a little too revealing for the formal occasion.

Would he have married a woman like you if this wench hadn’t come to destroy his life? Would he have married you if your parents and your friend’s family hadn’t forced the two of you into it? If this wasn’t some kind of mask, and this really was you, he wouldn’t have any complaints about being stuck with you. In fact, he would have demanded it—forced it, if he could. But that wasn’t how life turned out... You were not his.

The wedding soon came to an end and that was it. Legally you were tied to his friend while he was already stuck with his own problems. It wasn't fair. He just couldn't let it go as he stayed in his seat even after the end of the wedding speech as everybody started to leave to eat and dance. While his wife went to meet up with the groom he stayed where he was just thinking.

How surprised he was that he ended up meeting you so soon.

The guy had invited him to dinner a few times and he quickly understood that it was to have someone else in the group after the guy was forced by his parents to take you out a few times. But that didn't matter to him when he was finally able to talk to you, to chat with you.

When he reached the restaurant, the guy stood up after a small conversation, stating that he needed to run to the bathroom, take a call, or use some other excuse he had up his sleeve. He left the table for as long as possible only to come back near the end with maybe a lipstick on his shirt or something. And if Richard’s wife was there, the guy would start subtlety flirting with his wife, uncaring if he or his own wife was there, not that the woman herself cared.

He pitied you, as you kept on your smile even when your eyes swirled with an understanding of your place, yet at the same time, you were still so hurt. You were silent for the most part keeping to yourself.

You and he become rather close but not really, it was a kind of comradery of your situations or that was what he would like to think. Whenever you and him were left alone, rather than keep the awkward air around he would start to talk to you.

You were a little flustered at first but slowly you started to get used to talking with him. Chatting amicably as if enjoying the conversation between you and him. He also did enjoy conversing with you. No heavy topics, it wasn't business or anything to do with work but stuff like traveling, hobbies, and favorite food. The things that you would like to do if you only had the time or chance to do them. 

You weren't loud but you were delicate, gentle, and easy to fluster too. You were polite and careful with your words but also curious asking him many questions when he talks about his own stories. You would keep all your attention on him, even if he noticed you didn't seem maybe that interested in a topic or two.

There was one time he went to your apartment, an invitation from your husband who invited him and his wife. Your place was in a high-end apartment probably paid by the family, with decorations that were chic and modern but there was also a homely feeling to the place, cleaned and cared for with love, unlike his messed up house. The smell of the house was similar to that of a fragrant laundry detergent instead of strong perfume. Just for a moment, he realized that you were the one who did all this when he saw you coming out from the kitchen unwrapping the apron you were wearing.

Just for a moment you gave him an actual vision of a home, a vision of what he wanted so much and could have had yet was taken away from him. You gave him a vision of what it would be like to have a wife who cares so much. 

He could not help but crumble and fall.

He started to crave for you, the more he chatted with you the more he fell every night he fantasized about you in his arms. He wished... he craved for you so much that he thought he started having delusions that you were his. At night, he couldn’t close his eyes without seeing you clearly in the darkness.

But you just had to break everything, you just had to slam a hammer to his dreams and fantasies just like everyone else.

"I'm sorry," you said, a sorrowful smile on your lips. "I know my husband is using you to get out of our date. I apologize for taking up your time when you're so busy. Please, I’ll make sure this doesn't happen again. You don’t have to come every time he asks you to. I’m sure you’re busy too."

Why...? Why did you say that? He thought you knew that he already understood. He thought you knew that it didn’t bother him at all—especially when you both always had such enjoyable conversations. Why did you apologize? Why would you tell him to stop coming? Why were you pushing him away?

Your eyes looked at him in sorry and guilt and it clicked you were scared you were so scared that something wrong might happen. Because in the end, you were loyal, loyal to a man who didn't even love you.

It made him livid. 

Even if you thought you knew more than he did, he was the one who knew more. He knew well what your husband does on nights that he isn't home, where he goes, and what he does there. In Richard’s own house, he could hear the sounds of two people with familiar voices thinking they were alone. 

His wife and your husband.

You didn't know that, while you probably knew that he partied every day you seemed to have hope that he didn't have the audacity to lay in bed with another married woman much less the wife of his own friend. He didn't care who that guy lay with, but it made him irritated that a guy like him had you.

That appointment ended up awkward. Too awkward as both of you waited for your husband to arrive. The guy knew something was up the moment he arrived but seemed to choose not to say anything having enough tack not to right at that moment when he usually didn't.

Looking at the message again he sighed declining the invite again even when the guy tried to put up a fuss. It was just that he could not face you right now, not when you made it clear that all you felt towards him was guilt.

If only it was you... if only he had found you first if that woman didn't chain herself to him using blackmail and connections.

If he could just swap his wife with you he would have been happier... he would have the life he wished he had and he would spoil you with all his love and time. While you would wait oh so lovingly for him while cooking and cleaning while he worked to bring the money to keep you happy materially. He would be a better husband than your own and he already knew that you would be a far more better wife than his own.

But you just had to draw that line. That line of law and morality.

Watching the road as he drove, he could not help but let annoyance fester him at this whole situation till he saw a poster pass by him. Purple with a familiar design that he saw just this morning. Something to do with a certain fortune teller who knew a little too much and who gave him a small vial.

Truthfully he didn't believe in such things, but part of him had become so desperate that he just could not think straight. He was desperate and he knew that the old woman knew that and was laughing at him for it.

"Here yah go. This is a little something that would have cost a shit ton but I am gonna give it to you for free." The old woman cackled, she was having way too much fun knowing his situation. "If you plan to add this to a drink don't worry about the colour at all."

He didn't believe in such things. But there was a whisper in his mind a little spell in his brain that told him that this would work. That there was something different about that mad woman who probably lived only in entertainment.

His hand moved before he could even think about it, accepting the dinner invitation as he finally reached his office. It was supposed to be closed, but a few employees were pulling an all-nighter, so the building wasn't locked. In his mind, all he could think about was the life he once dreamed of—the life that had been taken away from him. All he wanted was a life with you, and that thing—that vial—would be the answer to all his problems.

[peachsayshi]

// brutally soft // II. 

baby daddy!sukuna x reader 

tags: non curse au; fluff; tension; reader and sukuna are co-parents; girl dad sukuna; mentions troubled past with sukuna; alludes to significant size different; sukuna being extremely soft | wc: x | read this for more context & this

note: you and sukuna attend your daughter's winter performance at school

dni if your blog is blank / ageless / or are a minor

your lips part, eyes widening as the crisp air stings the tip of your nose.

you take sukuna in - his tall body leaning against the pillar of the kindergarten in an outfit that's far too sharp than anything you've ever seen him in.

an overcoat, pressed matching colored slacks, a leather belt with a shiny silver buckle, polished loafers and a dark charcoal turtleneck hugging all the muscle he carries. the all black attire highlights his fiery hair and silver piercings glittering underneath the warm light. he has one hand in his pocket, the other flicking through his phone screen.

your heart hammers. the space between your leg pulses.

he looks so good.

you step forward, the heel of your boot climbing up the concrete stairs. he looks up when he hears you approaching, and stands upright to greet you with a warm smile. "hey," he states calmly, berry tinted irises tracking down your body to subtly check you out.

"hi," you reply, but it comes out as a breathy whisper. sukuna rarely ever dressed up like this. he was a t-shirt and jeans kind of guy. he owned one denim and one leather jacket. he loved worn band tees, gym attire and cut out shirts. he hated spending money on clothes because he found it "frivolous" and instead would blow it on his motorbike, booze, and weed. he rented a suit once and complained the entire time. but this...

"you look," you stammered, unable to ignore the slight spark that ignited between the space where you both stood. "you look really good, ryo..."

he runs his hand over his freshly trimmed undercut, the scent of oak moss and wood wafting across your nose and making you picture an evergreen forest.

"thanks," he murmurs with a slight pout, his face falling into an honest expression of uncertainty. "I thought I overdid it a little..." "not at all, you look…fantastic…” you answer with a shake of your head and a firm word of reassurance. "this shit cost me an arm and a leg, but I had nothing else to wear tonight..." he huffed, before relaxing his stance. "glad it paid off at least" you furrow your brows softly, "you bought all this for her play?" a hint of pink kisses sukuna's cheeks and he averts his eyes shyly. "yeah, the brat keeps complaining about my scary clothes and shit..." your heart melts over the gesture.

when you think about how much sukuna cares for your daughter, how much he wants to prove to her and everyone else around him that he does, in fact, take his role as a father seriously, it makes you immensely proud of him.

you've seen the growth in the man.

the sukuna you knew five years ago and the man standing before you now were two completely different people.

and that fact messes with your head.

you swore to yourself that you would never take him back.

that you would never give him a second chance.

"anyway, shall we head inside? the show is about to start in fifteen minutes..." he interjects, cutting your thoughts abruptly before you even have a chance to tell him anything else.

you nod your head, and he casually places his palm against the small of your back to lead you inside.

the parents were cramped in the auditorium, the steel fold out chairs were uncomfortably cold but even more so for your former ex lover who was struggling to find a position for his large physique. after watching him suffer for a few minutes, you finally offered him your own seat on the aisle to give his legs a bit of breathing room.

"fucking hell, all this money we spend and they can't get some decent chairs in..." he complains and you chuckle as you bump his shoulder into his.

the performance was all about celebrating the seasons of the year and each class from the kindergarten were set to perform a specific season. the first batch of kids started with the spring season, where the kids sang and danced in little floral costumes as they taught the audience in question all about how spring brings abundance and the start of something new. the next scene moved into summer, where the performance transitioned to upbeat tempos as the kids celebrated the warmth that the season brings. the third scene transitoned to fall, where the colors of the set morphed into earth tones as the kids sang about the celebration of the harvest.

and finally it was the last scene to honor the beauty of the ice, cold winter. the scene where your daughter was performing. you nudge sukuna when you notice him dozing off, and he instantly perks upright to catch the part that he's been waiting for all night.

his face lights up when his daughter scampers onto the stage, dressed as a sparkling little snowflake. you both can see her eyes scanning the crowd, and her face brightens when she finds the two of you.

sukuna leans in to whisper in your ear, "she wanted to wear that from when she woke up this morning..."

"and did you let her?" you prod, teasing him over his softness towards her and knowing full well that she could have easily gotten her way with him.

"hell no. I wasn't going to deal with the mess of all that glitter," he answers back, your voices getting lower as the audience hushes.

the performance starts - your daughter is twirling and moving with confidence. she sings along with the choir and whenever you glance towards sukuna, you find him beaming with pride the entire time.

and then there was her big moment, her solo.

the one she has been going on and on about for weeks.

the spotlight shines on her as she takes center stage, her small hands squeezing into two tight balls as she shifts her weight from one foot to the next.

she's nervous, you can see it and it makes you itch with anticipation. you can't help but tug at sukuna's sleeve subconsciously, but the man responds by naturally taking your hand in his own.

your daughter swallows the lump in her throat, a hint of fear veiling her eyes as she glances to the side of the stage then back to the audience.

her eyes fall to you and sukuna once again, and the man simply meets her focus as he playfully waves his fingers in her direction.

her small hand relaxes, and she gives him a secret wave in return before easing her stance.

your eyes sting with tears at the interaction before she starts to sing.

you're holding your breath the entire time, pride sitting at your throat as you let go of sukuna to pull out your camera to record the entire thing. her confidence unfurls as she carries on her performance, making you think of all the afternoons and evenings she has spent performing her solo in front of you and probably sukuna while at home. by the end she takes a dramatic bow before returning to the rest of her cast.

you pause the video and turn to the man by your side who is applauding louder than everyone else in the room.

he looks at you with nothing but fulfillment.

"that's our girl," he says with a wolfish grin and cheeky wink, only triggering happy tears to fall.

sukuna drapes his arm around you, and you sling your own around his bicep in return, the other wiping away at your cheek. "yeah," you answer with a sniffle, "yeah it is"

for a moment your eyes lock, the two of forgetting your surroundings as the final song ensues.

“thank you for bringing her into my world,” sukuna murmurs, his lips merely inches from yours. but you don’t even pick up on the depth of what his gratitude even means.

you dab away at the dampness on your face. “that girl is your world, ryo” you tease but pause when you notice his face soften as he dips his gaze to your bottom lip.

“you both are.” he clarifies earnestly, but you are too stunned to speak.

he leans forward, and replicates what happened on the sofa just a few months ago by placing a small but innocent kiss on the corner of your lip.

“you both are.”

[beloveds-embrace]

I just read the poly 141 w/ past abuse reader and omg I love them all so much 😭. Would it be possible for a pt.2 (obviously you don't have to) but like how 141 reacts if they encounter readers family or something along those lines you know? (Ps. I love your writing. It's just *chefs kiss* you are amazing and I hope you have a wonderful day lovely!)

Thank you for your kind words!! I love compliments sorry i soak them up like sponge but ne ways here is part 2 (though it’s on the shorter side) and i hope you have an amazing day!

Part 1

CW: mentions of abusive and neglectful family

You knew it would happen, sooner or later. You knew this fragile peace you had been given wouldn’t last; it was only a matter of when that all of it would crumble apart and you’d be left-

“Calm down, love.” John’s hands settle on your shoulders, thumbs rubbing the tenseness out. His eyes are warm and so is his voice, his face, only for you. He squeezes, the touch grounding. “Take some deep breaths for me. Everything’ll be fine. We’re right with you, remember?”

You do as he says, twisting the fabric of your clothes in your hands. Your lips are chapped- bitten raw even when you keep getting glossy kisses from Kyle and Johnny who have stolen your chapstick. Though you want to reply to him, you are far more focused on the that is parking right outside your shop.

You are being stupid, and you know it. Your parents are simply picking up a flower bouquet order. That’s it. Nothing more, nothing less, but you know how they are. Nevermind the fact the bouquet is for your sister’s baby shower that you are not invited to anyways.

There is no reason for you to be so scared that all four of your boyfriends tagged along today for your sake (they would have tagged along anyways the second you mentioned your parents would be there).

You know, logically, that your parents are just here for the bouquet, but the familiar dread still claws at you, a reminder of all the ways they’ve made you feel small over the years. And yet, with John’s warm hands on your shoulders, Kyle’s steady presence, Johnny’s easy grin, the fond pecks, and Simon’s quiet strength surrounding you, it’s different this time. You’re… not alone.

Yet when the car door slams shut loudly, a shiver runs through you, but Kyle’s hand finds yours, grounding you along with John. “We got you, yeah, dove?” he murmurs, giving you a reassuring smile that brings a little calm to your nerves. You nod, drawing a deep breath just as the door chimes and your parents step inside already looking so unimpressed with your shop. They’d always thought your passion for flower and plants was useless.

But they pause, taken aback by the sight of you with these men. You can feel the judgment in their gaze, the thinly veiled disapproval that once would have made you shrink. But now, with your boyfriends beside you, you… don’t feel quite so afraid. You don’t feel like you need to bury every part of yourself and only show the smoothed out edges your parents forced on you.

Your mother’s eyes narrow as she looks at you, at the way you aren’t immediately bowing your head and making yourself smaller even if you remain as quiet as you’ve been taught, and then she looks at the men standing protectively around you. “We’re here for the bouquet,” she says, her tone clipped, as if even this brief interaction is an inconvenience. No greeting, not a single ounce of warmth. Typical, and by now the hurt has become far less sharp than it had ever been.

“Here it is, mother.” You say, your voice small but steady. Your hands only shake just a little as you show her the bouquet, thought it’s Johnny who gently takes it from your hands, all but shoves it towards your mother, and smiles at them.

Your father’s gaze shifts to you from Johnny, his mouth opening as if he’s about to say something scathing, but Simon steps forward, his posture relaxed but his eyes hard- and his mask makes him look even more intimidating. “Anything else you need?” he asks, his voice calm yet leaving no room for confrontation, or even any other request.

You don’t mind this attitude, you realize. You are just- so glad it’s not you on the receiving end.

Your father hesitates, clearly taken aback and unused to being addressed so rudely, and you watch as he realizes he has no power here. None of his usual tactics- snide remarks, dismissive gestures, cold silence- can reach you. Not with these men shielding you, grounding you, and reminding you that you are worth so much more than their disdain.

“…We are leaving.” He clears his throat instead, shooting you a scathing look that says they will definitely be calling you later and belittling you, but… you know you will not be alone to deal with that later. Not anymore. Your mother is shooting you displeased glares, her hands white around the bouquet. But she says nothing, and for that you are glad.

As they leave, at last, John chuckles softly, leaning down close to kiss your shoulder. “They didn’t expect that, did they?”

You shake your head, almost laughing, a strange, freeing sensation bubbling up in your chest. Kyle comes close and wraps his arms around your shoulders, an embrace so warm and gentle. “See, love? You don’t have to face them alone anymore.”

And you realize he’s right. You don’t have to hold up a crumbling wall on your own anymore. These men have become the family you never had- solid, unwavering, reminding you every day that you deserve love and peace.

For the first time, you feel like maybe, just maybe, you can truly let go of the fear they instilled in you. For the first time, you feel like you can simply be yourself and be loved all the same for it.

[nereidprinc3ss]

early seasons spencer and bau reader undercover at a club and it’s just like. he is so flustered but also weirdly confident and do with this what you will

in which spencer reid and BAU fem!reader have to pose as a couple at a club. she's more than a little flirty. the conversation actually gets quite suggestive. he's cute when he gets flustered.

warnings/tags: discussions of sex, reader wears a tight dress and makeup and heels, discussions of blushing but r's skin color is not implied to be light, i just needed a reason to talk about sex flush LOL, if u don't visibly blush this will still read fine

a/n: I LOVE EARLY SEASONS SPENCER X FLIRTY READER OH MY GODDD thank you for this request angel from heaven I hope you all like this as much as I do teehee

The bass buzzes through the floor and vibrates your teeth. House music has never really been your thing. Neither have tight dresses and high heels while on the job—but you’re willing to objectify yourself just a little if it will lure yet another loser who likes to chop up young couples into the awaiting arms of the American correctional system. 

Or to the wrong end of Emily's Glock. Whatever comes first.  

You scan the club—it’s not your usual scene, and you can only imagine how Dr. Reid is faring. As far as you can tell this is essentially his nightmare. It’s sensory overload central even for you. 

Your eyes catch on him at the bar, tucked away from the writhing crowd. He’s standing near the end, one arm resting on the surface while the other hand is jammed in his pocket. He seems completely unaware of the several women circling closer and closer. The whole earnest and dorky but still handsome thing seems to work well for him. Or, it would, if he had any interest in utilizing it. He’s dressed a little sharper than usual—no doubt styled by Morgan and Prentiss. Hell, the earnest dorkiness and the well fitted dark suit is working for you if nobody else. 

Sometimes he just looks… edible. 

And self-discipline doesn't always come naturally to you. 

“Doctor,” you purr in greeting, grazing the forearm propped up on the bar with white-tipped nails as you insert yourself in front of him. His fingers twitch under your light touch. 

Spencer doesn’t even try to hide the way his eyes sink down your frame, sticking to every highlighted curve like you’re dripping honey. Or maybe he just doesn’t realize that you can see that’s what he’s doing. 

“Hi. You look nice.”

“Aw,” you smile, dulling the salacious edge to your voice, “you didn’t have to say that. Someone’s improvising.”

“I meant it. That dress looks nice on you,” he says, simply, and you hate his specific brand of charm because it’s not intentional. It’s not something he puts on. It comes out of nowhere and always knocks you on your ass when it hits—even in the smallest doses. His eyes narrow and he leans closer. You can feel the energy rippling around him like a force field as he examines you. “You’re wearing more makeup than you normally do.”

“Do you like it? Penelope ordered the wrong shade of blush and gave it to me. Supposedly it’s meant to make me look like I just had an orgasm. I don’t know if I believe it.”

Much to your disappointment, Spencer leans back, scanning the crowd for your target and speaking as if he’s only half-interested. 

“That’s not what you would look like. Sex flush deepens the color of your entire face and chest, not just your cheeks.”

Your brows knit as you contend with unwelcome butterflies. 

“Buy me a drink before you start telling me what I’ll look like after I orgasm.”

That catches his attention, and his suddenly wide eyes snap to you. If he had a drink, he’d be choking on it. 

“I wasn’t—it was a general you, I’d never—that would be inappropriate. It was. It was inappropriate. Sorry. I’m sorry.”

You lean with your back to the bar, elbows propped on black granite, and swing your hair over your shoulder. Spencer’s eyes dart back down to your décolletage and then up to the ceiling like he regrets being born. You smile wickedly. Much better. This is the way God intended for you to interact with Spencer Reid. 

“I’ll consider forgiving you. And I don’t blush. Not when I orgasm, not ever.”

Admittedly, you just want to milk the whole talking about you orgasming thing to see how pink you can make him. It’s not often you’re gifted with an opportunity to be so candid about your sexuality or flirt this unabashedly. But you are supposed to be posing as a couple. Maybe you’re just feeling extra in character. 

Instead of stumbling over his words some more, Spencer smiles with a degree of bemusement like he’s caught you in a white lie. 

His smile is so nice. His teeth are perfect, and his lips—

“Yes you do.”

Always so convinced he’s right, this one. 

It’s annoying. And kind of hot. 

“Uh, I promise you I do not.”

“Everyone blushes. It's a sympathetic nervous system activation response wherein blood rushes to your face. Your blood vessels dilate when you get flustered or anxious. Your face gets hot and your undertone changes.”

You raise your brows. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was challenging you. 

“Yeah? Wanna bet?”

“Actually, no,” he mutters, losing any bravado and casting his eyes downward subserviently. “You have a habit of proving me wrong.”

“That’s right,” you gloat, smiling wide. Someone bumps into you, and you turn around, highly unprofessional insult locked and loaded—but it’s just a drunk girl who apologizes and stumbles off. The encounter does, however, remind you that you’re supposed to be finding a killer. “Do you think this is the best positioning? He might not be able to find us way over here.”

“You think we should move?”

You look back at him and nod, holding your hand out. He looks at it uncertainly. You waggle your fingers and infuse your words with sugar. 

“Oh, come on. I don’t want to lose you. And we’re supposed to look like a couple, remember?”

Gingerly he accepts your hand. His is bigger than you’d have thought. Not nearly as freezing as your own perpetually are. It occurs to you as you grab his hand that his bone structure really is bigger than yours. He’s… tall. He is, at the end of the day, a real life adult man. His presence is palpable behind you and you enjoy the weight of his hand in yours as you tug him through the crowd, perhaps not taking the most direct route through the throng just so you can savor being able to touch him like this for a little longer. 

Miraculously you spot an empty booth and slide into it. It’s a deep alcove, shadowy and secluded at the back. That’s where you settle, against black vinyl, and where you wave at Spencer to join you. 

He lingers at the edge of the table, glancing around at the groups of dancing and drinking young adults. 

“I don’t know. Can you even see the dance floor from back there?”

“Part of it. But I’m sure he’ll be looking in the booths for couples. He’ll come to us.”

Spencer faces you again and sighs ruefully, a begrudging smirk playing at his lips as he slides into the booth and joins you against the back wall. His side is warm against yours. He smells nice. Clean. Almost herbal, like patchouli or vetiver. 

“What? You really hate sitting next to me that much?”

Spencer’s lips part wryly before he speaks, like he almost thought better of it but decided to anyway. 

“I think you just wanted a reason to get me alone and secluded so you can finally accost me.”

Your knees bump. You lean into it. 

“Accost you? That seems harsh,” you pout, leaning toward him clandestinely to undo his top button.

“I don’t see how. You are literally trying to take my clothing off as we speak.”

“I’m just increasing your sex appeal. It’ll be good, trust me. Maybe you’ll even end up taking one of those girls from the bar home. Or—back to the hotel, I should say.”

Spencer covers your fussy hands with his own sweetly, like he can sense the true jealousy simmering underneath the sarcasm, and places them in your lap. The touch lingers.

“Are you always like this?” He murmurs, voice lower than you can recall ever hearing it and twisted into the shape of a smile. 

“Only with you, Dr. Reid. Speaking of, how about you? Do you flirt with many other FBI agents on official business?”

“Just the one. She’s kind of a full-time job.”

“Shut up. I’m basically your babysitter. If anything, I should be paid extra for dealing with you.”

“Attempting to seduce your charge seems like a bad business model. There are definitely some ethical issues there.”

His hands still rest on yours. You lace your fingers with his and speak sweetly, meeting his eyes best you can in the dark. 

“I wasn’t aware I was seducing you. Do you feel seduced?”

He’s the first to look away after a few seconds pass—pulls your hands apart gently, politely arranging them back on your lap. 

“I think you’re incorrigible and a terrible influence. In all honesty, you terrify me and more often than not I walk away from our interactions a little confused.”

You clap a hand to your heart, the bare skin revealed by your low cut dress warm under your fingers. 

“Spencer… that kind of turned me on.”

He just looks at you for a moment, a hint of a smile on his pretty face, long enough to make you feel a bit nervous. 

Then he’s leaning forward, and unconsciously so are you, almost forgetting to breath when you’re practically pressed against him in this booth and he’s whispering so low and sweet into your ear. 

“He’s watching us. Right across the floor, next to the girl in the blue dress. White button up and a leather jacket.” His hand slides over yours, fingers skimming your collarbone in the process as he interlocks your grasp once more. “Keep your hand right here and lean closer. We need to maintain his interest.”

“I don’t think I can lean any closer,” you breathe, hoping it doesn’t register as nervous as it really is. You’re supposed to be the confident one who teases him. “But if you want me to sit on your lap, just ask. I won’t say no.”

He chuckles, too loud to be amorous. It’s clearly genuine. It sounds like the way his reddened cheeks always look. It almost does more for you than the bedroom voice.

“You… you are beyond help. I don’t think you could be appropriate if your life depended on it.”

Slowly you pull back so you can look into his eyes—much closer than you normally have an excuse to. They dart wildly over your face, partially obscured by the dark which cuts shadows deep into the dramatic hollows of his bone structure. He really is so pretty. 

You glance toward the man, who’s pretending not to watch you. When you focus your attention back on Spencer, sliding your hand up the curve of his jaw, you find yourself making a dangerous wish. You find yourself wishing that you didn’t have an audience. That this wasn’t all for show. That neither of you had earpieces in.

His pulse hammers under your little finger, and his lips part slightly as he doesn’t have the wherewithal to not glance at yours. He’s so unaware of how obvious he’s being. It’s cute. 

You run the tips of your fingers through the hair in front of his ear, the one sans bluetooth, pushing it back, before leaning in close once more to whisper. 

“Good thing we’re not going for appropriate. Actually—your hands could stand to wander a little more, Dr. Reid. Let me know if you need me to tell you where to put them.”

[minghaoes]

pouty cuddles [drabble]

mingyu comes home after a day of filming gose and everyone's been meaner to him than usually. what else could he need than being in your arms and dramatically complain about his members, who he loves dearly?

TAGS: kim mingyu x gn!reader, fluff, established relationship, the members are mean to mingyu but he's handling it like a champ (he isn't)

WORD COUNT: 800 words

a/n: my first seventeen fic !! i haven't written fanfics in a minute and i'm a bit rusty so it's shorter than what i will post in the future, but i hope that y'all will enjoy it nevertheless :) please let me know what you think and happy reading !!

Mingyu was pouting. His lower lip was slightly puffed, his cheeks looked a little rounder than they usually did, and his eyes, his eyes were big and brown as they looked right into yours. His head was resting on your chest close to your chin, and Mingyu could not stop staring at your face. His arms were wrapped around your waist, and he seemed comically small in that moment. 

Your left hand softly caressed the warm skin on his back, as the fingers on your right slowly played with his curls. Mingyu sighed quietly and leaned into your touch, not before exaggerating his pout just a little bit more. It was enough to make you coo at him and press a butterfly kiss on the tip of his nose.

“They were mean to me,” Mingyu said, the pout ever so evident in his voice. You suppressed a laugh and indulged in his behaviour. “Who was mean to you, baby?”

Mingyu closed his eyes at the pet name and pressed his body even closer to yours. His body felt heavy on yours, but still comfortable. The warmth radiating from his body was enough to keep you warm, to keep you happy. 

“The members,” he mumbled, and shuffled a bit further up. Nuzzling his face into your neck, he complained: “They said I’m always scared.”

It took you a lot of self restraint to not start laughing. Granted, Mingyu had not been telling you what today’s episode was about, but considering you know how your boyfriend behaved in certain situations, the members’ statement was not that far off from the truth. Yet, the pout on Mingyu’s face was enough to have you reconsider agreeing with them, even playfully. Instead, you opted for lightly scratching his head and pressing a kiss on top of his hair. “My poor baby.”

“Yes, I am,” Mingyu nodded. His lips grazed the skin of your neck and you smiled, hugging him closer to your chest. In response, Mingyu hummed and kissed the same spot softly. He kept kissing you over and over again, until he started speaking again.

“I’m not actually mad at them,” he confessed, and you hummed, “Who would have thought.”

“HOWEVER,” he interrupted you sassily, another pout already forming on his plush lips, “I’m not scared of everything.”

You smiled at him, but Mingyu only furrowed his eyebrows. Your right hand wandered further down from his hair to his forehead, to massage the worry line gently. 

“I’m not scared of being with you,” Mingyu confessed quietly. His eyes flickered back down, feeling less confident now that you reciprocated his gaze. “I’m not scared of committing to you. To give myself to you.”

It was your turn to furrow your eyebrows now. You tried to sit up straight, but Mingyu would not let you. Instead, you opted for hugging him with both of your arms around his neck. 

“Where’s that coming from, darling?”

Mingyu whined and put his head back into place right in the crease of your neck, right on top of your shoulder. 

“Just been thinking ‘bout marriage a lot lately, that’s all,” he replied casually, not knowing that the simple words made your heart beat just a little bit faster than it already did. 

“Yeah?” you replied breathlessly, trying your best to maintain your breathing. Mingyu nodded again, sounding a bit more insecure this time. “If that’s what you’re considering too. No pressure if you’re not interested. I mean, I would be hurt by it, but I respect any decision you might mak-” 

Giggling, you pulled Mingyu’s head up to press a kiss on his lips. Your hand was holding his cheek and caressing the soft skin below your fingertips. In turn, Mingyu’s eyes returned to your face, the same big and brown eyes you had grown to love. The pout was evident on his lips again, and in response, you kissed him over and over again, until the lovesick frown returned to his brows, his eyes softer than you have ever seen them.

“Of course I’ve been thinking about it too,” you admitted, pressing another kiss on the tip of his nose. Mingyu turned his head upwards, trying to catch your lips with his. He whined when you pulled away, his lips returning to his natural pout. 

“Baby,” he said, his eyes switching back and forth between your eyes and your lips, “that’s unfair. I’m still sad. Why are all of you always mean to me?”

You cooed and littered his entire face with kisses. Mingyu giggled at your antics and sighed contentedly. For now, you did not have to know that his members had been nagging him about proposing to you. The box he was hiding in his sock drawer was also completely unrelated to his theatrics.