#writers block i will Hurt you

[sailordiamondkitty]

If any of my followers would be interested, I've committed a Professor Layton one-shot story.

Do take a look if you want, I won't bite 😁

[chuluoyi]

𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒

- sylus x reader

you suspect something’s off when you catch your lover with the hunter girl, so you decide to give him the cold shoulder. his way of winning you back? trapping you in a bet—if he wins this underground fight match, you’re back to being his

genre/warnings: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—brief smut, comfort, total fluff, assassin!reader (not l&ds mc), based on sylus' card radiant brilliance

note: this has been looong buried in my drafts since before my writer's block started :') again, a part of the assassin!reader that started with strictly (un)professional

Your lover— he is definitely hiding something.

“Mmph!” A moan escaped you mid-kiss as his palm suddenly cupped your right breast, squeezing and stroking it, while two of his left fingers thrusted inside you, getting you wet.

His fevered lips and tongue melded with yours, his wicked fingers driving you to the brink of madness—and oh damn, the devil that possessed them felt so heavenly—as he pressed you against the vanity, bending you over its edge.

A knowing gleam flickered in his eyes. “Mm, you talk too much, woman.”

Your thoughts blurred, teetering on the edge of control, yet deep within, a spark of aggravation incessantly burned, especially when you remembered the person you had caught him manhandling earlier this afternoon—

Miss Hunter.

“Sylus—! Stop!”

"Tch." He pulled away with a hiss as soon as you pushed his chest away with everything you had. Just like that, you were left high and dry; the emptiness his fingers had left behind made you instinctively cross your legs. "Why are you so uncooperative tonight?"

"You—" Gasping for breath, you clutched your slipping nightgown, glaring sharply at him despite the discomfort of the hard surface beneath you. "You really think you can shut me up... with sex?"

"I'm telling you, nothing happened." Sylus’ lips curled with a smug hint of satisfaction, only fueling your irritation. "Didn’t know my woman had such a jealous streak until now."

If there was one thing you’d learned from years by Sylus' side, it was that everything he did had a purpose. If it had been some random bimbo hanging around the casino or his resorts, you wouldn’t bat even an eye.

But this was the Miss Hunter—the very girl he had spent decades searching for, the one with whom he shared a bond so profound that he had forsaken everything just for the chance to find her again.

And compared to her, you were just his bedwarmer... who just happened to catch his eye.

"You two were kissing," you accused almost spitefully, the words laced with bitter edge.

His grin vanished, replaced by a look of distaste. "We were not."

You knew what you saw—he cornered her in the furthermost corner of the base, far away from even from the prying eyes of Luke and Kieran, and they were definitely just an inch away from each other. "Then what were you two doing?"

"Can't we talk just like acquaintances do?" The lack of viable answer gnawed at you. If there was nothing to hide, why didn’t he just say so and put your suspicions to rest?

"Will you do her like you do me?" The venom in your voice startled even you, slipping out before you could stop it. "Ha. I should’ve known..."

By now, he had this sour yet stern look in his face that made you almost shudder but you stood your ground. His tone was almost mocking, "Insecurity makes you so bitter, sweetie. Get yourself together."

It felt like a prick in the heart. Oh. As heartless as you were in the face of blood and gore, you still had it apparently when faced with your lover's conniving red eyes and sinful lips.

But more than that... as they said, heartbreak is one thing, but your ego is another.

"To hell with you!" you snapped, sitting up straight. Sylus blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the look on your face—was it showing the hurt? Or just plain defiance? Even you weren’t sure as you spun on your heel and stormed out of his room promptly.

Not for the first time, the very idea that he might be getting on with another woman twisted something inside you, the ache sharper than you expected. It suddenly saddened you to a degree that it brought mist to your eyes.

For the next three days, you ignored Sylus almost completely. He tried to get back to your good graces, but you paid him no mind, acting as if he didn't exist.

“Missus, please— just say yes!”

And caught in the crossfire, poor Luke and Kieran had become his reluctant messengers.

You unconsciously shot a sharp glare at the twins. Perhaps it was the mental strain you were putting yourself under, but you truly hadn’t meant to scare them more than they already were.

"Boss is really cranky when he isn't in a good mood," Luke pleaded, clasping his hands together. "Please just help us this time, will you?"

"He promises he’ll make it right!" Kieran chimed in with a hopeful grin. "As soon as he wins his match this weekend, you’ll see—there’s nothing to worry about!"

Sylus and his penchant for boxing. You knew these underground matches were something he indulged in now and then, and you'd let him be.

But this time...

"How are you so sure he's going to win?" You lifted your chin, a taunting smirk curling your lips. "And no, I'm not going. Tell him that."

"Missus, you have to see reason— there is no way Boss is having an affair—" Kieran insisted, shaking his head in frustration.

"Boss is whipped!" Luke cut in, throwing his hands up. "For you! Can't you see?!"

"..." For a solid five seconds, silence blanketed the room. You arched an eyebrow so high it made Luke look like he'd just spilled the world’s best-kept secret, while Kieran slapped a hand over his mask in exasperation.

And things were obviously not getting better—

"Ha. I'm what?"

You could see the twins visibly gulping the very second Sylus' voice boomed across the hall, and you rolled your eyes.

"Pfft," he let out this low chuckle as he made his way towards the three of you. "Hear that, sweetie? Luke isn't wrong."

"..."

"The little kitty's anger hasn't subsided, I see," he murmured, tilting his head to the side with a playful smirk, arms folded across his chest. "Such little trust you have in me."

You sighed. "Don't tempt me to hate you prolifically, Sylus."

"You wound me," he retorted, ruby-red eyes narrowed. "I have been nothing but honest and transparent."

You turned away, pressing your lips into a tight line. Deep down, you knew how childish all of this felt. Maybe it was nothing, after all. Maybe, just like he said, it was your insecurity twisting things.

And why are you so insecure, anyway?

"Keep your eyes on me, kitten."

Suddenly, caught off guard, you almost yelped as he tilted your chin towards him, forcing you to meet his gaze. Your heart raced wildly, but you fought to keep it in check.

"I win, and you’ll do what I say," his eyes flicking from yours to your lips, his voice a velvety whisper in your ear. "But if I lose... you can have your way—however you want."

Your pride took over. A second later, you jerked your face away, refusing to give him the satisfaction. To salvage your dignity, you let out an indignant scoff.

"Best hope you lose then."

You’d never been fond of crowds, let alone sitting in the stands of a boxing match.

And yet here you were, clutching a bouquet of fresh flowers—the twins had practically shoved them into your arms before bolting away—surrounded by the deafening roar of fans.

You would punish them later, you so would. It was humid and you were fuming. There was nothing interesting here, and to top it all off, Sylus’ turn to the ring was taking forever.

Until it didn't.

When he finally stepped into the spotlight, you caught sight of him on the big screen. And in that moment—when that devilish smirk curled his lips—you could’ve sworn he wasn’t aiming it at the crowd.

He was throwing it right at your direction.

And oh, how the rapid and traitorous thump-thump-thump inside your chest drowned out everything else, as if the roar of the crowd gradually faded at the realization.

How is it that he always manages to get your heart in his grasp?

. . .

When they said this sport wasn’t for the weak, they weren’t lying. No matter how tough you thought you were, you still flinched every time the opponent’s fist connected with your lover’s jaw.

Despite all the aggravation you harbored about him, watching him stumble and get knocked back felt like a punch to your own gut. In that moment, all you wanted was for it to end.

And when it finally was—when the referee raised Sylus’ arm and declared his victory—you exhaled a shaky breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Relief washed over you in a quiet, fleeting wave.

However, reporters and cheers quickly swarmed him, and the distance between you felt even greater then. There he stood, proud as ever, lofty as if standing atop clouds, surveying the world with thinly veiled contempt. Meanwhile, you…

You were still dissatisfied. Sylus had a way of winning everything he set his sights on, while you remained stuck with your own petty grievances and emotional baggage you subjected yourself to.

It was vexing, really. How you wanted him to win and not at the same time. How you wanted his everything and knowing you would never be able to.

“What’s the secret to winning this match?!” one reporter asked, voice brimming with excitement.

Sylus answered with a casual smirk. “I made a bet I absolutely can’t lose,” he said coolly. “So, I won.”

The girls in the stands erupted into deafening cheers at his response, their shrill voices forcing you to cover your ears.

The nerve. You scoffed, irked by his answer and by the crowd’s adoration. You decided you wouldn’t let him have the satisfaction of you lingering here any longer.

Snatching up your bag and that damned bouquet, you marched toward the exit with long, determined strides when—

“Ooh? And who is this special person?!”

“Ah, look, there she is.”

You froze mid-step as the spotlight suddenly pinned you in its beam. Whirling around, your breath caught as you saw Sylus descending from the arena, his gaze locked onto yours.

What the hell?

For a moment, you froze in utter disbelief as he approached you with that effortless grace, as if the crowd around him didn’t exist. Before you could piece together your fragmented thoughts, he was already standing before you.

“Are you mad?!” you murmured in a hiss, your voice barely louder than a breath over the distant roar of cheers, yet pointed enough to pierce the air between you.

Sylus, however, only let out a snort, swiftly snatching the bouquet from your arms, and pulling you by the shoulders— his breath tickled you ear as he whispered:

“Got you.”

—and before you could react, he crashed his lips on yours in a bold kiss that at sent the crowd into an instant uproar of cheers.

“Whoa, whoa! The champion! Look how manly he is!”

“He has a girlfriend?!”

“Oh, my! To be that girl!”

“—!” You almost pushed him away, only to falter when you realized his kiss was anything but forceful. It was deep but disarmingly gentle.

Sylus pulled back just as quickly, his eyes twinkled with mischief as he took in your stunned expression.

“You’re mine now, sweetie,” he said with a smug grin, giving you a light pat in the head.

The way his eyes crinkle as he looks at you... Your cheeks burned, and your heart thundered in your chest, drowning the roars of the swooning crowd—

Because in that moment, you could’ve sworn there was nothing but pure adoration in those mesmerizing garnet eyes of his.

“You've gone and done it... What if anyone recognizes us?”

Later that night, freshly showered and wrapped in silk nightgowns, you sat at the edge of the bed, towel in hand as you dried your wet hair. You cast a glance at Sylus, who had just bathed with you and now lounged nearby with an unbothered grin.

The events from this afternoon still felt like somewhat of a dream to you. You had never been under that much of a spotlight before— too used to a life shrouded in shadows, quietly biding your time, preparing to brandish your blade when the moment came.

But through Sylus, every now and then, you caught a glimpse of what it felt like to stand on the other side of that darkness. And it felt freeing— like you could finally breathe, unburdened by the scent of blood and gunpowder.

"Wouldn't that be fun? Imagine the headlines," he shrugged nonchalantly. "The Onychinus leader and his missus... masquerading as a boxer and his fan for a day."

You huffed, shooting him a stink eye. "That's not even funny."

Despite the public display that Sylus had more or less pulled and made the two of you known as lovers even in underground world, there was still a gnawing curiosity at the back of your mind, feeding your insecurity—

The sight of him and Miss Hunter replayed again in your mind's eye. It was never fun finding them together in such close proximity.

And yet, in the end... he returned to you, still. Unspoken it may be, but Sylus had always taken your side so far.

You let out a long, resigned sigh. That caught his attention as he turned to you. "What is it?"

"Nothing," you quipped, slightly grimacing. "Forget it. I'm going to sleep."

Sylus raised an eyebrow, his gaze lingering on you. Even when you hid it, he knew what you'd wanted to ask and if you asked it now, he would tell you.

The way your face had fallen bothered him more than he'd like to admit. He rose from the recliner and moved to your side. "No, you won't be sleeping."

"What?"

He knelt beside you, gently taking hold of your leg, and pressed a kiss to your calf, his touch warm and unhurried as he met your gaze with a sly smile.

"Sylus..." you eyed him with incredulity, feeling yourself getting warm.

His red eyes crinkled. "Don't you want to ask me something?"

Your hand reached out to caress his face, and he leaned into your touch. That simple act alone brought a small, intrigued smile to your face. "No."

"Hmph. Really?"

"What?" You traced your fingers on his sharp jaw, admiring it. "You think I'll demand you for answers about whether you're two-timing me with Miss Hunter again?"

Sylus tilted his head, relishing the way your fingers cradled his face, staying quiet, however.

You were really great at this pushing and pulling game. It irked him to see how detached you seemed now when he knew a part of you had been fazed by it days ago.

He disliked it when you tried to hide what you were feeling. He hated it even more when you doubted him for anything. But seeing how unhappy you had been lately rattled him.

"Nothing happened," he said in a low voice, catching your hand and locking eyes with you. "Would you feel better if I had told you that since the beginning?"

"Who knows?" you replied with a soft shrug, a wry smile on your lips. "You didn't tell me before."

What a vixen. The thought simmered in his mind. Mine, though.

Like a cat pouncing on its owner, Sylus suddenly moved, going straight for your lips and pinning you to the bed. Intertwining his fingers with yours, he pried your lips open with his tongue.

Yet despite it all, you felt how gentle he was. The Sylus from before would just fuck you senseless and be done with it, but the one with you now... he treated you with an unexpected tenderness, as if savoring every second with you.

He pulled away only when you were breathless, the saliva string between your lips breaking as he gave you a moment to gasp for air. His gaze softened, lingering on your flushed face, a satisfied smile curling on his lips.

"You will see for yourself tomorrow. Tonight, however..." he trailed off, his lips hovering just above yours.

But you placed one hand on his chest and another on his neck, looking up at him with bleary eyes, the vulnerability in your gaze tugging at something within him.

"Actually, I'm a bit exhausted..." You found his intense gaze and blinked slowly. "So, can you be not as rough?"

"Ha." Sylus let out a snicker at your request, taking the hand you had on his chest and pressing a soft kiss on it.

What a precious little thing you are. Your face right now... It was a look he couldn’t resist, one that made him want to protect you and ruin you, all at once.

His smirk lingered. "Of course, sweetie. I'll go easy on you tonight."

And true to his word, he didn't break his promise.

Even as he pinned both your wrists above your head, capturing your lips in a heated kiss—

—as he dived between your legs, his tongue skillfully devouring your clit—

—and as you tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him impossibly closer.

And later, when he pulled you into his arms and murmured softly until you drifted to sleep.

When you woke up the next morning, it was because of two things.

One— it was freezing. Your thin nightgown was definitely no match against the biting chill of a winter morning.

And two— Sylus wasn't here.

You wondered where he could have gone as it was his bedtime, but as you pulled the comforter closer to keep yourself from shivering, something caught your eye.

It took you a full three seconds to process it.

There was a ring on your finger.

"Huh...?" You were jolted awake by the sight of the glittering ruby. It was intricate, yet strangely nostalgic, reminding you of Sylus' eyes. How? Why?

You immediately turned to the nightstand, your gaze landing on a small jewelry box sitting neatly atop it. You scrambled for it, the name of the jeweler embossed on the lid caught your attention. It wasn’t from anywhere in N109 Zone.

It clicked to you at all once. So, that was why he was with Miss Hunter?

But more than that, what caught your heart was when you flipped it open and found a note inside, with a scrawled handwriting you would never mistake for anyone else's—

Because forever is too long and boring to be spent alone. So, your answer is…?

[physalian]

How to make your writing sound less stiff

Just a few suggestions. You shouldn’t have to compromise your writing style and voice with any of these, and some situations and scenes might demand some stiff or jerky writing to better convey emotion and immersion. I am not the first to come up with these, just circulating them again.

1. Vary sentence structure.

This is an example paragraph. You might see this generated from AI. I can’t help but read this in a robotic voice. It’s very flat and undynamic. No matter what the words are, it will be boring. It’s boring because you don’t think in stiff sentences. Comedians don’t tell jokes in stiff sentences. We don’t tell campfire stories in stiff sentences. These often lack flow between points, too.

So funnily enough, I had to sit through 87k words of a “romance” written just like this. It was stiff, janky, and very unpoetic. Which is fine, the author didn’t tell me it was erotica. It just felt like an old lady narrator, like Old Rose from Titanic telling the audience decades after the fact instead of living it right in the moment. It was in first person pov, too, which just made it worse. To be able to write something so explicit and yet so un-titillating was a talent. Like, beginner fanfic smut writers at least do it with enthusiasm.

2. Vary dialogue tag placement

You got three options, pre-, mid-, and post-tags.

Leader said, “this is a pre-dialogue tag.”

“This,” Lancer said, “is a mid-dialogue tag.”

“This is a post-dialogue tag,” Heart said.

Pre and Post have about the same effect but mid-tags do a lot of heavy lifting.

They help break up long paragraphs of dialogue that are jank to look at

They give you pauses for ~dramatic effect~

They prompt you to provide some other action, introspection, or scene descriptor with the tag. *don't forget that if you're continuing the sentence as if the tag wasn't there, not to capitalize the first word after the tag. Capitalize if the tag breaks up two complete sentences, not if it interrupts a single sentence.

It also looks better along the lefthand margin when you don’t start every paragraph with either the same character name, the same pronouns, or the same “ as it reads more natural and organic.

3. When the scene demands, get dynamic

General rule of thumb is that action scenes demand quick exchanges, short paragraphs, and very lean descriptors. Action scenes are where you put your juicy verbs to use and cut as many adverbs as you can. But regardless of if you’re in first person, second person, or third person limited, you can let the mood of the narrator bleed out into their narration.

Like, in horror, you can use a lot of onomatopoeia.

Drip Drip Drip

Or let the narration become jerky and unfocused and less strict in punctuation and maybe even a couple run-on sentences as your character struggles to think or catch their breath and is getting very overwhelmed.

You can toss out some grammar rules, too and get more poetic.

Warm breath tickles the back of her neck. It rattles, a quiet, soggy, rasp. She shivers. If she doesn’t look, it’s not there. If she doesn’t look, it’s not there. Sweat beads at her temple. Her heart thunders in her chest. Ba-bump-ba-bump-ba-bump-ba- It moves on, leaving a void of cold behind. She uncurls her fists, fingers achy and palms stinging from her nails. It’s gone.

4. Remember to balance dialogue, monologue, introspection, action, and descriptors.

The amount of times I have been faced with giant blocks of dialogue with zero tags, zero emotions, just speech on a page like they’re notecards to be read on a stage is higher than I expected. Don’t forget that though you may know exactly how your dialogue sounds in your head, your readers don’t. They need dialogue tags to pick up on things like tone, specifically for sarcasm and sincerity, whether a character is joking or hurt or happy.

If you’ve written a block of text (usually exposition or backstory stuff) that’s longer than 50 words, figure out a way to trim it. No matter what, break it up into multiple sections and fill in those breaks with important narrative that reflects the narrator’s feelings on what they’re saying and whoever they’re speaking to’s reaction to the words being said. Otherwise it’s meaningless.

—

Hope this helps anyone struggling! Now get writing.

[street-smarts00]

in omnia paratus

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Summary: Spencer's been on the fence with his feelings for you. Due to his past traumas he’s decided to keep his feelings hidden. Until you’re caught in a dangerous situation at work

WC: 3.5 k

A/N: I am SO SORRY this took so long. I’ve been sitting on this for two months because I was being a perfectionist and had writer's block. Thank you so much to the person who requested this idea and I hope ya’ll like it! beta read by @whats-yesterday00

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Fluff, Protective!spencer, Friends to lovers, age gap (25 and idk 33 or 34), during season 9 (sadly no post prison Reid, I refuse to watch the show after Derek & Hotch leave), Maeve is implied 

Warnings!: mentions of murder, stalking, gunshot wounds, hostage situation and incorrect info about hostage situation cause Idk I'm not in the FBI

Everyone knew Spencer Reid had a soft spot for you. Well, everyone except for you. 

Since the moment you met you’ve been on his mind. 

“Do you know how old she is?” 

“No, how old is she?” 

“25!” Penelope squeaked before being shushed by Rossi. 

“Wow, she’s gotta be the youngest person to ever be in the BAU. Well, second to genius over here,” JJ commented while pointing to Reid. 

“That’s if she gets the job,” Morgan added. 

They were all crowded around the desks in front of Hotch’s office. The blinds were cracked and they could just barely make out the woman seated across from their boss for an interview. 

Due to the increase in caseload after Alex joined, Hotch made the request to add an additional member of the team. After interviewing a few people that didn’t pan out, he heard quite a bit about you from your supervisor saying how well you’ve done with the FBI and you’d be an exceptional fit for the team.

Then of course Penelope looked up everyone who was interviewing with Hotch. You being her most recent victim. 

“How long has she been with the FBI?” Alex questioned. 

“Three years,” Penelope answered 

“What? Did she join right after college?” 

“Not right away. She graduated early and got experience with law enforcement first.” 

Spencer sat at his desk quietly while everyone was peering into Hotch’s office. Not to say he wasn’t nosy as well. You were already behind the blinds when he arrived for work. 

“Oh they’re shaking hands! That has to be a good sign,” Penelope cheered. 

Morgan turned to the window, “It’s definitely not a bad one.” 

Her eyes widened before loudly whispering, “Oh no they’re leaving. Disperse.” 

She scurried off in her heels towards Derek’s desk while he followed behind with a grin. JJ, and Rossi averted their eyes from Hotch’s office and found Alex’s desk far more interesting. 

All while Spencer’s attention was brought to the woman led down the stairs by his boss. It felt like his heart stopped beating when he saw how beautiful you were. He was brought back to earth as Hotch introduced you to the rest of the team. 

“This is Dr. Spencer Reid,” he gestured to the man sitting at his desk. 

You offered him a small wave and a kind smile, “Nice to meet you.” 

It became quite obvious you two would get along very well. From very early on conversation flowed incredibly well between the two of you. There were very few people that he felt were easy to talk to because of his niche interests and the way he would ramble spitting facts left and right. 

But he never had to worry about saying the wrong thing or talking too much with you. You often were a content listener or you would even match his passion on certain subjects. Most were topics Spencer already knew about. 

When you first met Spencer you didn’t know the Dr in his name meant he held 3 PhD’s or that he was quite literally a genius. 

So you were often telling stories or facts you found interesting that he already knew. In fact, almost every “fun fact” you brought up, he knew about already.  

But he never interrupted you. He always was listening intently to what you had to say. Like he was hearing about it for the first time. 

At some point you learned of his eidetic memory and how vast his knowledge was. It was during a case where you found out and mentioned it to him. 

“Reid, remember when we were at the harbor and I mentioned that thing about sharks?” You hesitated, “did you know that already?”

“Yes,” he guiltily admitted. 

You partially deflated suddenly feeling that the whole tangent you went on was pointless. “Why did you let me go on and on if you already knew?” 

His eyes softened, “because I wanted to hear you talk about it.” 

That was when his feelings started to peek through. As the months went on it only grew and grew. And you were none the wiser.

To the average person, it might not seem like much. Perhaps you were just good friends. But to a team of profilers (and best friends) it was painfully obvious. 

It was almost painful the way he looked at you with a longing in his eyes. Or when his gaze immediately turned to you to catch your reaction or smile. 

It was obvious by the way he found any excuse to bring you up in conversation. Or how in conversation with you he would mirror your mannerisms and lean closer to you. 

As well as the things he remembered about you or the little things he did for you. Like the countless coffee cups he bought for you from his favorite coffee shop before work. And when he saw you struggling to find something or open something he was always right there to help. 

Spencer Reid had feelings for you. Feelings so deep that he couldn’t pull the roots out even if he tried. 

He didn’t know what to do with his feelings exactly. He hadn’t felt this strongly for someone since … well for a while. He was terrified of history repeating itself. 

He couldn't lose you. He’d seen first hand what this job did to him, what it did to Hotch. Their loved ones ripped away from them too soon.

So for now at least, he kept his feelings to himself. 

Well, until your last case. 

The BAU was called in on a case that just turned serial. They found the unsub to be a man named Mark, who started killing because his girlfriend cheated on him. The first two victims reminded him of the man she cheated with. When that didn’t satisfy him, he hunted down and killed the other man. 

Now the team and SWAT was stationed outside a bus that Mark was holding hostage. He stalked his ex-girlfriend and tracked down the new city bus she took. 

The officers couldn’t get a clear shot of him because of where he was standing and he kept using the passengers as shields. Rossi was currently on the phone with him trying to make negotiation terms and get some of the people off the bus. Mark however was incredibly stubborn and didn’t want to let his leverage go. 

So Rossi asked about the children on the bus and if Mark would be willing to let them off. They were met with silence on the other end of the phone, contrary to his previous behavior where he loved to hear himself talk. 

After a short pause the phone spoke. “I’ll only send out the kids if you send in an agent.” 

Rossi shifted his weight and crossed his arms. “Are there any other circumstances you’re willing to send out the children for?” he asked. 

“Nope,” he said with a pop at the end of the word. 

A look of concern was quickly exchanged between Rossi and Hotch. While their faces didn’t reveal much, their eyes spoke volumes. 

“How about this,” the unsub continued. “I’ll send out their moms too.” 

Rossi’s eyebrows furrowed slightly at the eagerness to comply from the criminal. “You’ll send out the children and their mothers if we send in one of our agents?” 

“I promise.” 

Rossi returned his eyes to Hotch who stood rigid and tall with his arms folded. He was met with an approving nod before returning to the call. 

“Alright, we can agree to those terms.” 

“Oh and agent Rossi?” Mark perked. 

“Yes?”

“Send in a girl.”

There was a tension that quietly branched out between the agents listening to the phone call. 

“Why do you want a woman?” Rossi asked, clearly changing the dialogue used.

“I’m losing too many ladies sending out these moms. I want one back,” he replied with a cockiness to his voice. 

Ross confirmed they could send in a female agent. Almost immediately after the unsub hung up, you volunteered to be the agent going on the bus.  

“I’ll do it.”

Spencer’s head shot in your direction. “No you're not.” His voice was laced with concern and a hint of demand.  

“Reid-”

“He specifically asked for a woman. We don’t know what he’s planning, he’s devolving.”

“And I’m willing to take that risk to make sure those kids are safe,” You defended yourself. 

You turned to your boss waiting for his thoughts. Hotch knew you’d been exposed to enough high tension scenarios to know what you were doing. But just like any member of his team, he silently hesitated, worrying for your safety. 

He took a breath before meeting your eyes again. “Send her in.” 

Right before you were led to the bus, Hotch took off the holster on his ankle and handed it to you. “Some extra protection in case something happens.” You couldn’t hear the concern in his voice, but you saw it clear as day in his eyes. 

You made your way to the bus and saw through the window Mark holding a gun to the driver and telling him to open the door. You stepped on and the doors closed quickly behind you. The unsub took a long look at you, panning up and down. 

“Well how about that. Aren’t you a beauty? He said with a cheeky grin. 

You tried your hardest not to look disgusted with him. Instead you kept your composure and spoke with courage and a confident demeanor. 

“You this flirty with all your hostages?” you asked plainly.

As he gazed down at your legs his eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed. He bent down and with the gun in his hand, pushed away the bottom of your pants leg. When he saw the gun in the holster, he tsked. 

“You always carry this much dead weight on you?” 

He stood back up and put his hand out, “hand it over, I told them no weapons.” 

You reluctantly took off Hotch’s holster and placed it in the unsubs hand. Your one line of defense was gone. 

The longer you were on the bus, the more anxious Spencer got. He knew you were an exceptional profiler, and you had enough experience and skill to handle yourself in situations like this. 

But that couldn’t stop the ache in his stomach or the fact that his heart rate could power a car by now. 

He stood closer to the bus now to get a clearer view of the windows. They managed to successfully get the children and moms off and to safety, but you weren’t safe. Spencer figured you were trying to negotiate with the unsub, but that was going nowhere. This was confirmed when Rossi tried calling him again but every call was ignored. 

This unsub was stubborn as hell. He knows he trapped himself, but didn’t want to back down. At least he didn’t want to go quietly. 

Spencer was talking with the rest of the team trying to devise a plan when the gunshots were fired. The team immediately ran back to the cacophony on the bus. 

More shots were fired, he didn’t know where from. He didn’t care. 

He just needed to get to you. 

When he got a decent view through one of the windows that hadn’t shattered he saw you. Your hand over arm in pain but still standing in front of the civilians to protect them. The unsub stalking over to you, gun in hand and smacking you over the head with it. You slammed against the chairs and fell to the floor. 

Spencer's face paled. He swore he was going to throw up. 

Through the fog of his mind Spencer saw Morgan escorting Mark off the bus, his hands now behind his back in cuffs. 

He rushed past them, clambering through the door and up the stairs to get to you, calling your name. 

“Reid?” he heard your small tired voice through the crowd. 

He followed it to you, laying on the ground struggling to open your eyes and clutching your left arm. 

He crouched down to your level with a gentle hand on your uninjured arm. 

“Hey, I’m here. I’m right here,” he comforted. 

“My head hurts,” you mumbled.

His eyes softened, “I know. I think you might have a concussion, you need to go to the hospital.” 

You slowly started to fade out of consciousness. Spencer’s heart dropped and his hand moved from your arm to your face. 

“No no no no stay with me okay?” he caressed your cheek with his thumb.

“Stay with me sweetheart,” he consoled.

Your eyes stopped struggling to stay open and finally made their close. His other hand rushed to your pulse point as he called for a medic.

Time seemed to stand still while Spencer sat next to your hospital bed waiting for you to wake up. He couldn’t leave your side. He didn’t want to. 

You were okay. You were laying in the bed in front of him. But of course in his mind he ran through all the possible scenarios of how things could’ve gone worse, how things could’ve gone better. What would’ve happened if you didn’t have your gun taken away, or if the unsub got angry that you tried to bring a gun in. What if he didn’t lose his cool and start firing. What if you never went inside in the first place. 

And with all of those possible scenarios, the same thought plagued him. 

He was wrong. 

Before he was too scarred from past traumas to reveal just how much you meant to him. Not wanting to repeat the past and lose yet another person he loved cared for. 

But now, after seeing you in danger right in front of him, now he was terrified at the thought of you never knowing. He was now more scared you would never know how much he loved the way your nose crinkled when you smiled. How he thought the sound of your voice could cure any ailment he had. How he admired your strength and desire to protect others. How you could light up anyone's mood by just being you. How he could listen to you for hours, even if you were lecturing him on things he’d known like the back of his hand.

To him it was a whole new experience hearing it from you. 

Spencer was pulled from his thoughts as you stirred awake. He saw your eyes adjust to the bright fluorescent lights ahead. He quickly got up to dim the lights for you. 

When he returned to his seat you smiled at him, “hi.” 

“Hi,” he smiled back.  

“How are you feeling?” 

You sighed. “Like shit,” you complained with a hint of humor. 

“The doctor said you have a minor head injury, bruised ribs, and the shot to your arm thankfully didn’t break any bones.” 

“Fun,” you said sarcastically. 

A moment of silence passes between you two. He doesn’t exactly know what to say. How do you casually tell your friend and coworker you have a crush on them? 

There is no casual way. 

“You called me sweetheart,” you broke the silence. 

He furrowed his eyebrows, “What?” 

You fidget with the blanket, “earlier, when I passed out on the bus. You called me sweetheart.”

He searches his mind for the memories of the day. When he finds the memory he realizes in the heat of the moment the term of endearment slipped out. 

He wasn’t aware you heard it. 

“I did,” he confirmed as his ears flushed.

“Why?” you asked curiously. 

He didn’t know how to tell you that he’s wanted to call you that for weeks now. So instead he settled with-

“It just … felt right.” 

“Oh,” you replied quietly.

Spencer tensed up at your response. 

“If I crossed the line-“ 

“No. Of course not,” you interrupted with a comforting voice. 

The corners of your mouth lifted and cheeks dusted pink. “I thought it was sweet. You don’t normally say stuff like that.”  

His heart warmed at your confession and a smile spread on his face. 

“You thought me calling you sweetheart was sweet?” he lightly teased.

“Shut up,” you chuckled, rolling your eyes. “You know what I mean.” 

Your laughter was cut short by a sharp pain in your abdomen. You bit down on your lip and gripped the side of the bed in pain. 

The reality that you were injured on the job was rushing back to him. 

He licked his lips, his nervous unconscious habit. 

“I was really worried about you.”

“I know.”

“No, you don’t,” he interjected. 

“The entire time you were on that bus I was sick to my stomach. Terrified that something bad was gonna happen and it did,” he started to ramble. 

You leaned closer to him. ”But I’m okay Reid.”

“You still got hurt. He shot you for christ sake!” his voice raising in pitch and volume. 

“Reid-”

“He lashed out at you! You could’ve died!” 

“Spencer,” you said firmly, pulling his attention towards you. 

He never heard you say his name before. No matter how many times he said you could call him Spencer, you still called him Reid. Hearing his name fall from your lips was like the consistency of honey.

You placed your hands on his face caressing his cheek. His golden eyes meet yours. 

“I’m alright. I’m still here,” you consoled. 

“But if-“

“Spencer.”

“Please,” he pleaded. “It’s important.” 

You nodded your head, signaling for him to continue. He gently grabbed your wrists and brought your hands in his. He took a deep breath before he decided to spill the thing that had been eating away at his heart. 

“I have feelings for you. I have for a long time. Almost as long as you’ve been at the BAU,” he started. 

With your hands in his he started tracing his thumb over your knuckles. 

“If we don’t have work I count down the days until I can see you again. When I do see you I desperately want to see you smile, see you happy. And if I’m the one that causes that smile, it makes my whole day. That’s why I never interrupted when you talked about something I already knew. The way your face lit up when you talked with such passion was the highlight of my day.” 

“For months I was scared of my feelings and I kept them to myself. I was too scared to admit how much I liked you because I-” his hold on your hands tightened.

“I know what it feels like to lose someone. This job takes so much from us; I never wanted it to take you.” 

Spencer let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in. 

“Today I realized it would be more painful if I went the rest of my life not telling you, than having even a fraction of a moment with you.”

A moment of silence danced between you two. Your head reeling from his confession, heart beating so hard you could feel it in your bones. Your palms sweaty from holding onto Spencers, but still neither of you let go. 

The silence was deafening, plaguing him. 

“Please … say something,” he begged. 

Your lash line was collecting tears that you simultaneously tried blinking away. Your eyes found his tie less intimidating than his gaze.

“I never thought you would like me back,” you said with a soft tone. 

Spencer's cheeks turned red as his heart started melting. “I do.” 

You brought your eyes back to his. That precious smile on his face was infectious. 

“Listen,” you squeezed his hands. “I’m not going anywhere. So you have as much time with me as you want.” 

Spencer's eyes softened at your words. He raised your hands and placed a loving kiss on your knuckles. 

The two of you were too lost in eachother to notice the footsteps towards the room. 

“Hey, I found some Jello for her if she-” Alex abruptly stopped once she noticed what she walked into. 

You both awkwardly pulled your hands away from each other; you fiddling with the hospital blanket, him rubbing his palms on his slacks. 

“So, feeling better?” she asked hesitantly. 

“Much,” you answered, still a bit flustered. 

“Good, good to hear,” She tried not to sound too smug, but the small smile on her face said otherwise. 

She raised and shook the jello container in her hand. 

“I’m gonna leave this here,” she placed it on the table. “I’ll be back in a bit.” 

“Thanks Blake,” you thanked as she left. 

Once she was gone you quietly giggled and mumbled “oh my god,” under your breath. 

“You know, she kept teasing me asking when I was going to ask you out. And don’t even get me started on Morgan,” he chuckled, shaking his head. 

Your jaw dropped and eyes furrowed. “Did everyone else know but me?” 

He pressed his lips in a thin line, “pretty much.” 

“I must be a shitty profiler,” you half joked.

“Absolutely not,” he said in the most comforting voice. He brushed the hair that had fallen in front of your face behind your ear. 

“You’re an amazing profiler.” 

You smiled that smile he loved so much. The one where you couldn’t hide your joy and your nose crinkled. 

“So, how do you think you’ll spend all those moments with me?” you inquired with a bit of a teasing tone. 

“Doing anything sweetheart,” he answered seriously. He looked at you with awe written all over your face. “I'm ready for anything with you.” 

“in omnia paratus” - ready for anything

Tag asks: @adrienneleclerc @ladybirdbeetle7

[celestialprincesse]

🎀💕🌺💐

"C'mon, open up, baby. Be a good girl for daddy." Simon's gruff voice echoes through the kitchen of your shared apartment, sending shivers down your spine as you cock your head inquisitively to the side.

"Promise it won't hurt, and afterwards I'll get yo a real big treat, hm? How's that sound my pretty girl?"

What the fuck? Who the fuck is he talking to?

It's not you, that's for sure.

Silently, you make your way to just outside the kitchen door, pushing it open with a wince at the slight squeak. You remind yourself to whip out the WD-40 later.

"Oh, thank God you're here." Simon sighs, having obviously noted your presence. It's unfair, really, that you can't sneak up on your own husband in your own. home.

Making you feel even sillier still, is the fact that said husband is currently hunched over the wriggling form of your dog, flea prevention treatment in one hand and a bag of treats in the other.

"Gis' a hand. She won't take her fuckin' pills."

🎀💕🌺💐

Hi hello I thought of this last night after having writers block for weeks

[sugarwarachan]

random horny thoughts about hq men - seijoh + nekoma edition

CHARACTERS: mattsun, iwaizumi, makki, oikawa, kuroo, kenma, shohei CWS: nsfw, smut, all characters 18+, knife play, implied d/s undertones to a lot of these, toxic relationship elements, cheating/cucking if you squint, corruption kink, oral (f!receiving), bondage, spit kink NOTES: continue to enjoy my gross thoughts as i pull myself out of whatever writer's block hell i'm in. thank you to the anon who suggested shohei's - i accidentally deleted it i'm so sorry 😀

mattsun loves knife play. the idea of cutting your tights away from your body, tracing the knife ever so gently up the inside of your thigh before rippppp the metal tears through like butter. the flash of fear and unbridled lust in your eyes bricks him up instantly. he slots his thigh between yours and presses the flat of the blade ever so gently against your thrumming pulse. "ready to play, angel?"

iwaizumi finds out your ex never made you cum and makes it his personal mission to give you as many orgasms as possible. his fingers, tongue, dick, thighs, he wants to get you off in every way possible and erase that idiot’s ineptitude from your brain. “you cum so easily, baby. the fuck was your ex talking about?”

makki loves when you talk back. it’s foreplay for him to take you out somewhere nice and relentlessly tease you all night, each of you trading good-natured barbs that run just a little bit nasty (he likes when you’re mean, what can he say). there’s always a line, though, and when you cross it, his hand grips the back of your neck hard enough to stop you short. "I think we should go home, don't you?"

oikawa is prone to toxic situationships that always result in hurt feelings (his own). he sees you out with other guys and it actually boils his blood to the point where he’s calling you, whining about how you don’t make time for him anymore, and when you come over, he fucks you face down on the mattress to remind you that he’s the only one who knows how to make you cum the way you like

he’s super embarassed about it, but kuroo has a little bit of a corruption kink. like the first time he goes down on you and you get all blushy and embarassed - he’s hard as a rock. soothes you with soft kisses on your neck and stomach as he tells you how beautiful you look, how good you are just for him. he’s gentle in how he eats but he’s determined to make you as crazy for him as he is for you

kenma is lazy this kenma is lazy that - kenma finds out how much you like to be tied up and learns everything he can about bondage play. he buys a dummy to practice on (kuroo absolutely loses his mind over this), he watches tutorials, boy is dedicated to finding out how to make you cum this way. when this skinny streamer guy asks you out, you have no idea you’re gonna be roped into a bondage belt with a happy strap grazing over your clit as you sob into his arms (but you're not complaining)

your first impression of shohei is that he’s never known the touch of a woman but HOO BOY were you wrong. this man is a FREAK between the sheets. you can’t believe that the mild-mannered dude who barely says a word forces your mouth open so he can spit directly onto your tongue. by the time he’s done with you, you’re fucked out of your skull, covered in scratches, hickies, and cum, and being asked if you want to order taco bell

2025 © all works belong to @sugarwarachan. do not repost, translate, or steal any of my works. reblogs and comments always appreciated <3

[evilgwrl]

ExHusband!Simon x Reader

You Want a Divorce? (One)

Note: I'm having the WORST writer's block now so pls excuse my lack of proper writing... I'm currently sitting in front of a beach writing in hopes that ill gain inspo

CW: Angst, mentions of sex, jealous/possessive Simon, PLS DONT LEAVE YOUR KIDS IN THE CAR !!! Or break into someone’s house

Inspired by: Ex!Husband Simon

PART TWO

Simon stared at you. The shades of his eyes simmering into endless voids of obsidian, blonde lashes moulded against his greased lids, the residue of the perpetual torture his body had succumbed to during deployment.

“You want a divorce?” He spoke, voice deep as he flickered between your shaking heads, sweat soiling into the papers gripped firmly and your swollen face, cheeks feverish with a red hue, eyes even more so.

You held back a rough sob, throat stripped of all moisture evident in your hoarse voice as you spoke, “Yes, Simon. I think it would be best for our family… for us.”

He scoffed. “You think the best thing for our family is to separate?”

“We already pretty much are. You’re away for days, weeks, months at a time. We’re hardly a family and it’s difficult to explain to the children why I’m crying.”

“Ok then.”

That was it. You would admit, it stung. His lacklustre tone felt like a stab in the gut, the blade drenched with anthrax as it reared blistering sores internally, the effects having shown through your putrid complexion. Your skin was dull, practically lifeless, the only living form of you grew day by day through the darkening of eyebags that almost made you look apocalyptic.

It had been 12 months of separation, officially 8 being legally divorced. You kept his last name, the permanent burn of hearing Mrs Riley still searing through you with every syllable, yet you feel it would only hurt you more if they said Ms.

Simon was often away now, and the minimal family time he used to get felt pointless as the shabby apartment he moved into after the sudden interference of your mind-boggling news barely fit the two kids you shared. His body felt more relentless on him, the taunting of his mind fulgurated the inoperative reality that he would come home to you, to his family.

His voice, almost like it dropped an octave had grown richer in aggression, tormenting those he deemed suitable, both with his tongue and with his bruised knuckles, an oil painting of blue and purple hues radiating across the pale flesh as he shrugged it off to his team as “pushing himself and others to do better”.

Couldn’t you realise your mistake? Wouldn’t you prefer crying in his arms about his absence than never having it fulfilled again?

As he looked around the bleak environment, tan stained walls revolting the creaking mattress he had brought someone home to, someone who wasn’t you. It made him feel sick like a viral infection had slunk its way into his bloodstream as he laid next to a woman that failed to make his cock throb, endless images of you sprawled out under him flickering. No wonder he called out your name instead.

You felt the familiar shake of your hands every time your phone dinged; Simon’s dreary tone was evident through his dry “On the way” text. You ushered a day of your children’s life into their cartoon-themed backpacks, innocent smiles adorning their skin, doe-like eyes of brown, far too familiar to Simon’s staring up at you.

The sound of his car scraping into your paved driveway almost made you feel like throwing up, the nerves of seeing him combined with the already present pit of anxiety due to your date later turning you into one big shaky mess as you brushed it off as “too much caffeine”.

The echo of his car door slamming shut rung through your ears, staining you with the reiteration that your ex-husband was now at your door, heavy fists knocking upon the wood. The image you saw of him in your mind morphed back to reality as you stared at him, a blank expression on your face.

“Hi, love.”

“Hi, Simon.”

Your frown was clear, the pet name you were so used to becoming a distant memory in the past few months. It was a hole you were attempting to fill, to clear yourself away from his teasing tongue and faux impression of a healthy relationship. You were divorced for a reason, you knew that, but as you gazed upon the lack of life in his skin, it was almost like he was holding a mirror up to you.

“Daddy!” You watched as your 5-year-old, Ella, practically leapt into his hefty frame, his hands coiling around her like second nature. You could feel his warmth, the heat that would build in your stomach when you felt those same digits touch you.

“Hi sweetheart,” his voice gruff, yet tone lighter as he placed a delicate kiss on the skin of her forehead, “You miss me?”

She nodded, her face buried in the hem of his neck as your other child cooed from the bouncy chair, tubby legs attempting to wheel himself to the door.

“There’s my boy,” Simon practically cooed as he placed Ella down, bounding inside as he lifted the toddler out, grabby arms reaching out to pull at Simon’s locks, gentle tugs causing you to laugh.

Your voice cut through the scene like glass. Why would you want to destroy such a happy moment? Weren’t you supposed to be reuniting? Just say it, tell Simon you want him to come home, that you need him.

“This is Ella’s bag,” you speak, holding up the pink Minnie Mouse bag, “And this is Toby’s.” Your son giggled as he muffled out the words, “Transformers”.

Simon nodded, “Are you doing anything tonight?”

Ella practically screeched, “Mummy’s going on a date!” The thrill of her laughter that followed only seemed to make the situation more awkward.

“A date?” Simon’s voice was deadly, the hair raising on your arms as you shook your head, a tight smile on your suddenly dry lips.

“No, no, nothing like that. Just catching up with an old colleague of mine.”

“But he’s a boy, Mummy,” Ella giggled. Who was raising your daughter to be such a big mouth? Your face formed an annoyed look, eyebrows raising as a line of wrinkles crinkled against your forehead, your pointer fingers massaging your temples.

“An old colleague?” Simon practically gasped. Had he met him at your old work Xmas parties?

“Let’s get you guys in the car.” You fumbled with Toby’s car seat as you strapped him in, your nimble fingers shaking with anxiety before you shut the door, pressing a kiss against the window before wiping away the minimal residue of dirt. Gross.

“Who is he?” His tone was acerbic like he was looking for an argument. How dare you try and replace him? He was your husband, the father of your two kids? Have you seen this random man before? Had he fucked you?

“God, Simon-“

“Who is he?” Simon was relentless, bullying his way into getting the answers as his arms folded across his chest, tattoos practically screaming at you too.

“His name’s Andrew. I ran into him at a coffee shop a few weeks back and he just wanted to catch up. That’s it.”

A loud scoff sounded in the air. “You mean that geezer from that corporate job you hated? The one who didn’t know it was weird to blatantly stare down your dress when you were standing next to your fucking husband?”

“He didn’t stare down my dress! You’re not my husband anymore, Simon. I can see who I want.”

“I don’t want our children to grow up thinking they have multiple dads.”

You’ll admit, that stung.

“Multiple dads? You’re out of your mind. The only reason they would ever believe they have multiple dads is if their real one stopped showing up. And where have you been, Simon? When have you shown up?”

Simon held his tongue, the warmth of the metallic taste gashing through his teeth as he practically snarled past you. “I’ll bring them back tomorrow.”

The dress you wore was practically suffocating you as you tucked your stomach in. Simon never minded the change in your figure after motherhood, he found himself liking it even more. He loved knowing that his seed put you through that, that he made you swell with his children, and he brought out the glow in your cheeks and the delicate stretch marks that laced your hips.

Andrew was nice. His tone was comforting as he walked to your door, ushering you to his car as he insisted you could order whatever you wanted. He was handsome, the salt and pepper hues of his hair settling your insecurity.

“We’ll take the Pinot Noir,” he spoke, looking at you with an almost arrogant sheer in his blue eyes. You only liked white. Simon knew that just like he knew everything about y-

You’re not with Simon anymore. You had to realise that. Maybe that’s why you brought Andrew home, let him shove his cock (that was a lot smaller than what you were used to) inside your heat, as you let out moans you had mimicked from the porn you watched with the actor that resembled far too much of your ex-husband.

Simon's fingers gripped the steering wheel early the next morning, your two children snuggled up in the backseat as he drove back to his old house, your old home. He wasn’t a man who gave up easy, he would show you, prove to you that you made a mistake. You needed each other.

Hold on. You don’t drive a red car?

His car lurched into the entrance of your home, nearly ramming into the garage as he shoved it in park, rolling down the two back windows slightly for air as he dug around in the small side compartment of his car.

The familiar gold key he had stolen from you the night he packed up all his stuff stared back at him, practically egging him on. Go on Simon, march in there. So he did. His hand rattled against the door knob, glancing back to peak into the car for a second before he slammed the door shut.

Your body froze. Were you being robbed? No. It was only Simon. A very angry-looking Simon. You stood, the white sheet barely shielding your naked body as he took in the sight of the man next to you, his hands wrapping around his shoulders as he practically ripped him out of bed, flinging him onto the floor as he grunted, eyes reared with hatred.

“Simon, what the fuck are you doing? WHERE ARE THE KIDS?”

Andrew groaned, on the floor, covering his groin as Simon chucked the masculine clothes at his head, the thin boxers soiled across the man’s scalp as he trembled.

“Our kids are asleep in the car, waiting for their Mummy to come to the zoo with them.” Simon’s words were despicable, laced with an acrimonious tone, small particles of spit seething through his lips as stared at you.

He turned to the man, a giant frame staggering over the top of him. “Get the fuck out, and if you wake up our kids when you go past, I will personally put a bullet straight in the middle of your skull,” he said, pushing a thick digit against his forehead as Andrew rushed out, clothes barely on before you felt the front door shut, a cry of apologises leaving your lips as you tried to assist him but Simon only held you back, a tight grip coiling around your arm.

“What the fuck was that? How’d you get in?” You couldn’t even place the words to say, humiliation roaring through you as you snuggled the sheet closer to you, away from his peering eyes.

“It’s time to be a family again, don’t you think love?”

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

something in return

a/n: tbh i didn't intend for all of the moments in this instalment to fit into the same pattern, but hey, i won't complain when my geniusness unintentionally slips out... sometimes my big beautiful brain just can't help it lol

summary: “if you want them back so badly, then I think you’d have to work for it,” Steve cockily crossed his brawny arms. 

warnings: frat!bucky barnes x innocent!reader x stepbro!steve rogers, professor!peter parker, professor!reed richards, smut, dark content, college au, polyamory, kissing, virgin!reader, corruption kink, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, size kink, pain kink, spit kink, masturbation, fingering, anal, squirting, impact play, dry humping, thighjob, pussyjob, cumplay

word count: 5606

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

take her under your wing au masterlist | 101, intro to the au

masterlist | join my taglist 

You didn’t recognise the room that you woke up in. All you could hope for was that you were still in the frat house after the previous night’s rager. 

Though when you blinked around the unfamiliar space from your horizontal position, your eyes soon landed on the inked arm draped over your waist. Heartbeat promptly picking up, you slowly glanced back over your shoulder to discover Bucky sprawled out behind you and still fast asleep. 

Carefully, you tried to twist out from under his burly arm and slip out of bed, but though your movement was cautious, it still managed to stir him. 

“Morning,” he hummed groggily, his sleepy voice deeper than you’d ever heard before. 

Sucking in a breath as you sat balanced on the edge of the mattress, you refused to whirl around to meet his eye, “uhm, hi… how–, uh,” you coughed, “why am I in your bed?” 

“How the hell should I know,” he uttered through a yawn, “you were already here when I eventually went to bed.” 

“Oh…” you breathed, and as you then shifted slightly, you noticed the lack of fabric beneath your skirt as nothing seemed to cling around your core, “uh–, did anything–,” you finally glanced back at him in alarm, “nothing happened, right?” 

And as he stared back at you, his head cocked against the plush pillow, a smirk slowly began to bloom on his lips, “are you asking if we fucked last night?” he teased, “I am hurt that your brain would even dare to block such a magical night of lovemaking out of your memory.”

“What?” your eyes grew. 

“Kidding! Nothing happened, I promise,” both of his palms promptly floated up, “or, nothing happened between us,” he pointed out with a tilt of his head as he lowered his hands once more, “from what I heard you and Steve had quite the night…”

“I-I–,” you averted your gaze, swiftly scrambling to get up, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Sure you don’t,” he uttered smugly, “but just so you know, there isn’t much he and I don’t share, secrets or otherwise…”

Glancing around the room for your phone, you soon spotted it on the windowsill, “…I gotta go, I’ve got freshman orientation to get to,” you grabbed the device. Crisp morning air caressed your bare core with every shy step and prompted you to briefly sputter, “you wouldn’t happen to know where my–, never mind…” utterly mortified, you swiftly dropped the subject once more. 

“Oh, you’ve still got some time,” Bucky glanced to the ticking clock on his bedside table, “why don’t you hang around here a bit longer?”

“I really should be going–” 

But your words then ceased as the door abruptly swung open and in waltzed none other than your stepbrother. 

“Hey, dude, do you know where–, oh,” as Steve’s eyes landed upon you, his feet swiftly came to a stop, “well,” and a grin lit up his features, “good morning.” 

“Steve, will you please help me out here?” Bucky looked to his friend, “your stepsister is being a boring little brat.” 

“I’m sorry, but I do really need to go.”

“What, to freshman orientation? You’ve still got plenty of time before it begins,” Steve used the mass of his body to slyly block your passage as he kicked the door shut behind him. 

“That’s what I said!” Bucky pointed out with a short chuckle. 

“Well, I wanna get there extra early,” you tilted your head. 

“For what?” your stepbrother furrowed his brow, “so that you can get a seat in the very front row?” 

“Steve, just stop, just let me do it my way, okay?” you groaned, “I don’t wanna be anymore stressed this morning than I already am, so yeah, I’m going there early and you’re not gonna stop me.” 

Staring back at you, a slow exhale seeped from his lungs before he eventually muttered, “…alright.”

“Great!” you then pushed past him, but just as your fingers grasped the door handle, your frame froze up, “…hey,” your words then came out as barely a whisper, “you wouldn’t happen to know where my–”

“Where your panties are?” he swiftly cut in, “yeah, I do.” 

Twisting around, you met his smug features with a gentle furrow to your brow, “okay, where are they?” 

“Hmm…” a smirk began to tug at his lips before he uttered, “I–, uh… I don’t think you deserve to know that.” 

“Seriously?” you exclaimed, “Steve, just give them back, what use could you even have with them?”

“Oh, I could think of a few,” Bucky murmured from the bed, his arms comfortably curled back behind his head. 

“If you want them back so badly, then I think you’d have to work for it,” Steve cockily crossed his brawny arms. 

Melting with a sigh, you gave in, “alright, fine, what do you want?” fully expecting him to suggest that you should clean his room or something along those lines. 

But instead, you heard him utter, “I wanna stretch that little virgin pussy out,” his tone casually smooth as his gaze drifted down your frame, “see how many fingers she can take.”

Glancing nervously to Bucky behind him, you coughed, “you wanna–, w-what?”

“Come on,” he took a step closer to you, “just let me pick the lessons back up from last night,” before he briefly cast his vision over his broad shoulder to the man still in bed, “you wanna join in? Help show her the ropes?”

“Oh, fuck yeah,” Bucky sat up more. 

“You can’t be serious,” your chest heaved with every laboured breath, “are you still drunk?” 

“No,” he simply shook his head as his feet continued to shuffle closer to where you stood. 

“But Steve–”

“Shh, it’s okay,” his hands then grabbed each side of your face before he bent down and kissed you in an attempt to snuff out your worries. 

And when he slowly retracted, the simple peck had managed to make your knees go wobbly as you now hazily blinked back at him, “…you sure?” 

“Yeah,” he smiled as his thumb caressed your cheekbone. 

Crawling out of bed, Bucky then asked one finally time, “so, you want your panties back or not?”

And as your eyes drifted to him as he slowly stalked closer to the both of you, a faint nod found your head, “…alright,” before a shiver ran down your spin at the deal you’d just made, “but just–, fuck…”

“We’ll be gentle,” Steve uttered before Bucky’s head tilted at his vow. 

“Will we?” he knowingly scoffed at his friend. 

“Well, we’ll try, let’s just promise that,” Steve chuckled as he corrected himself. 

Slowly cascading down your inner thighs was not only the wet and sticky remnant of last night, but also the embarrassing reaction that fused with the terrifying nerves that now buzzed in your belly. 

“H-how–,” you fumbled, faintly gesturing before trailing off, “uh…”

Still keeping his eye locked upon you, Steve murmured, “sit down on the bed,” as his head nodded back in that direction.  

And slowly, you did so, all the while with your wild eyes trained on the pair of them.  

“Lean back,” Bucky urged as he stepped closer, and you tilted further back against the pillows piled up against the wall that the bed stood against. 

Firmly, you tried to keep your legs clambered shut as you watched them both kneel down on the floor at your feet, though as they pried your thighs apart, a shaky gasp rippled through your body. 

“Fuck, look at that little pussy…” Bucky groaned as he reached out to be the first to graze his touch against your folds, still all messy as it glistened back at him, “how is she even better than you described? 

“No fucking clue,” Steve chuckled as his own fingers slithered up to tickle at your clit. 

They went on teasing your puffy pearl for much longer than you’d thought, as they kept going and didn’t change their maddening pattern till you were close to cumming. And as your cunt clenched around nothing, winking up at them, it was finally filled up by one of Steve’s thick fingers as he gradually pressed it inside, though barely past the first knuckle.

“O-oh my god,” you gasped shakily at the unfamiliar sensation and cast your glance down at the digit your pussy slowly swallowed. 

“Shit…” your stepbrother’s mouth hung agape as he felt your tight hole struggle to stretch around him, “I really thought getting you close would have relaxed you more than this, but damn, baby…” he then retracked his finger only to nudge his friend beside him, “feel her, dude.”

“Wow,” Bucky chuckled darkly as he pressed in much deeper than Steve had, “we really gotta loosen you up before you have any chance of taking something real up here.”

You tried to keep your eyes open, tried to keep your gaze locked upon their overwhelming actions, though as the digit inside of you then carefully slide against your velvety walls and another’s touch reunited with your clit, you had no choice but to tumble over the edge, eyes screwing shut as your pussy clambered down around Bucky’s finger. 

“Oh fuck, I can’t wait to feel that around my cock,” Bucky’s voice barely managed to seep through your haze as he stilled his shallow motions. 

“Patience,” Steve’s words too sounded far away, like you were underwater as you came down from the high, barely registering as they both rapidly stripped you of your clothing, “if you try now, then you’ll just break her in two.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Bucky shot back as they both smiled. 

A part of you thought that they were done, that they’d had their fill, but little did you know it was only the very beginning. 

The finger still within you once again began to move, ripping a whimper out of your lungs as it slowly dragged back out, “wait, it’s too much–”

“What, are you sensitive?” Bucky’s steely gaze found yours as his touch made you squirm, “does it maybe hurt a little bit?” 

“Hey,” Steve then tapped his friend’s wrist as he stared up at you, “hold her still,” before Bucky’s touch faded and traded in with Steve’s, gently circling your entrance as the other man bent up your legs, caught both of your wrists in one broad palm, before he locked the same inked arm over your folded frame and squished you further down into the mattress.

It took some effort, but eventually Steve managed to sink not only one, but two of his thick fingers into your dripping core, making you wiggle beneath Bucky’s hold as you felt your poor pussy be stretched. 

“Oh, there you go,” your stepbrother chuckled as your tiny hole clung around his digits, forcing his pace to slow as you hugged onto him too tightly for him to fuck you at the pace he desired.

“H-how much is that?” you whimpered as your legs now obscured your view. 

“Just two fingers,” Bucky pressed a peck to your inner thigh before elbowing his friend gently, “dude, you can go deeper than that.” 

And as Steve sank his digits so deep that his palm rutted against you with each rock, you gasped, “seriously? It feels like it’s your whole fucking hand.” 

“Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Steve grinned as he kept up his ruthless pattern, “might be a bit unrealistic for today, but we could certainly work you up to that.” 

“No, I didn’t–, oh fuck–,” you tried to counter, though swiftly began to tremble once again, all of your vigour flying out of the window at the anticipation of yet another orgasm. 

With Bucky’s free hand, it floated up to trace your stretched entrance clinging around his friend’s digits, only for Steve to then slip one of his fingers out to make room for one of Bucky’s to press in and plug you up beside the one remaining. 

And as you tried to stifle your moans, Steve’s palm swatted down over your ass, “don’t you dare hold back those filthy noises.”

“Yeah,” Bucky’s finger rocked in tandem inside of you as you felt yourself tumble over the edge, “be a good girl and wake up the entire house,” his filthy commands urged you in your foggy state to let go even further and comply to their wish, “be loud enough for everyone to discover just exactly what a little slut Steve’s innocent little stepsister is.” 

And as the intense wave of ecstasy washed over you, the pace of their fingers didn’t slow in the slightest, but grew rougher as their caresses began to overstimulate you. Squirming and whimpering beneath his touch, Steve continued in a gravelly tone, “yeah, they’re probably jerking it with their ears pressed up against the walls,” he tried to force a third digit inside, though both his and his friend’s attempts failed, try as they might, “wishing it was their fingers getting soaked by your sweet pussy.” 

“What do you think,” Bucky’s pinkie then traced the cream that had leaked down from your stuffed pussy, south over your little rosebud, till it dripped onto the mattress below. Tracing your other little hole, glistening from the way they had you leaking, he simply couldn’t help himself and slipped just the very tip inside, “maybe that could happen one day…” 

“If she’s good, sure,” Steve quit trying to work another finger inside, “can you do that, baby?” he asked as the rocking motion the two separate fingers in your cunt kept up and conjured a sloppy melody to slosh throughout the room, “can you be good for me, and then maybe one day I’ll open up the invitation to more than just my best friend?” 

“Pass you around like a fucking joint, keeping us all warm and happy…” Bucky smirked as he gazed down at how they each greedily played with both of your holes, “yeah, look at her, she’d fucking love that…” 

If it wasn’t for the loud curses both men then let out as they once more shoved you over the edge, you wouldn’t have noticed how your pussy began to cry around their digits, gushing fiercely as they then withdrew their touch, only to land a vicious row of smacks against your puffy petals, causing your overly sensitive pussy to squirt even further. 

They kept on occasionally tapping their broad palms over your swollen cunt as you forgot what your own name was, their lips twisting up into a grin each time your frame jumped at the light impacts. 

It took a long while for you to realise what the low grunts and the slick sounds were, though even when you finally heard them, you still didn’t have any clue just how long the two men had been stroking themselves, kneeled before your tempting haven. Perhaps it was a new development or maybe they had stopped resisting the second they began to play with you, reliving themselves to the front row seat they gave themselves. 

And as they slowly rose up to stand before you, like towering boulders at the foot of the bed you layed melted against, all of the air escaped your lungs as your hazy gaze landed upon the cocks in their hands. 

First, your eyes landed upon Steve, his throbbing girth enveloped in the missing panties he’d promised to return to you, as he squeezed them tighter around his dick with every stroke. But then when your stare drifted to Bucky, a smirk swiftly bloomed on his face at the way your jaw hit the floor. To say that he was large was the understatement of the century as the frat boy himself knew that if he wanted to have an easy career, then he could just become a pornstar and skyrocket to a legendary status overnight, simply because of his monstrously blessed equipment. 

“So,” Bucky grunted as Steve beside him adjusted his grip and began to slip your messy panties back on and up your quivering legs, “who are you gonna pick to pop your cherry?” he briefly reached down to aid his friend before the cotton snapped back into place over your sensitive cunt. 

“That’s not even a question,” Steve scoffed as he only let the underwear stay in its place for a second before his grip caught the waistband and yanked it down to flash your pussy once more, “it will be me.”

And as they both soon unravelled before you, each of them purposefully aimed at the exposed inner side of your underwear, their cum painting the soft cotton white, before Steve let go and it snapped back into place against your skin. 

“There,” Steve smiled as he caught his breath, “now you can go to freshman orientation.”

As you scurried down the gothic halls of the university’s science building, your eyes drifted from door to door as you passed dozens of lecture halls, labs and offices. You weren’t even really sure if you were in the right building for what you were on the hunt for. 

“You lost?” a voice then suddenly found you as you peeked your head into an empty classroom. 

Spinning around, you saw an older man, surely a faculty member, paused in his leisurely stride and glancing up from the papers in his hand to gaze at you. 

“I–, uhm, maybe,” you admitted, suddenly overcome with the fear that you had accidentally wandered into a restricted area, “you wouldn’t happen to know where Professor Parker’s office is–, unless of course, that’s you.”

Shaking his head, he said, “no, I’m Dr. Richards.” 

“As in Dr. Reed Richards?” your eyes began to grow in admiration as you blinked back at the doctor, “the neurosurgeon who worked on that famous Alzheimer’s clinical trial a few years back?” 

“Guilty as charged,” he smiled, shifting the papers in his hand to slot them under his arm. 

“Oh wow,” you giggled, “I mean, I knew that you started teaching a course here, that’s actually part of the reason why I chose this school, but I just didn’t expect to–, I’m sorry, I’m just a big fan. I mean, you’re a rockstar,” you timidly gestured to him, “I hope to get into your class next semester, I’ve heard it fills up quite quickly.” 

“Well,” he tilted his head, “maybe you could swing by my office one day and perhaps we could figure out a way for one of the spots to be reserved for you.”

“Seriously?” his obvious flirting flew straight over your head as you didn’t yet know of his rakish reputation, “that would be amazing.” 

“Yeah, no problem,” the professor then turned to walk away, “and it’s the last office at the end of the hall, by the way.”

“What?”

“You were looking for Parker?” he reminded your starstruck mind, “end of the hall.” 

“Oh, right,” you breathed and glanced in the direction his finger briefly pointed, “thank you.”

“No problem,” he smiled before disappearing around a corner. 

As you neared the door, it stood slightly ajar, lending you to hear a deep voice quietly talking on the other side. Softly, you landed a few knocks before you carefully pushed it open. 

Standing behind the desk in the middle of the room and illuminated by the tall window behind him, stood the bespectacled professor you searched for, with a phone pressed up against his ear as he murmured into it. 

“Mhm, but it would just be Friday night,” he twisted around as he heard the threshold creak beneath your shoe. Briefly raising up a hand, he momentarily tilted the phone away from his lips to utter, “one moment, you can just have a seat,” he gestured to the chair on your side of the table before he then returned to the call, “are you sure? Okay, well, I’ll figure something else out… no, it’s alright, I get it,” he exhaled, “yeah, talk soon, bye,” before he hung up and sank down into his seat with a sigh, “sorry about that. Babysitter just cancelled on me.”

“Oh, it’s alright,” you waved a hand, “I’m sorry for just barging in, Professor Parker–, I mean doctor–, I mean–, uh…”

“Professor is fine,” he offered you a gentle smile to sooth your nerves, “what can I do for you?” 

“Well, it’s about your class…” you slowly began, “I know that I’m technically too late to sign up, but I just wanted to see if there was any possible way there might be one last slot left that I could fill.” 

“Oh,” he breathed in response. 

“Really, I’d do anything,” you stated before then detouring to a different tactic, “you said something about needing a babysitter? Maybe I could help,” you offered your services, “I used to do it for many years, all the way through my teens till I started here, so maybe I could lend a hand.” 

“I, uh…” his eyes narrowed as he thought it over. 

“Please?” your lips couldn’t help but press together in a pout, “I’ve dreamt about taking your class on medical history for years and years. You’d be like a genie granting me a wish.”

And as he blinked back at you, the luck that evidently was on your side shocked you to your very core as he unexpectedly uttered, “…alright.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” he slowly nodded, “but if there aren’t any seats left–”

“Then I’ll happily sit on the floor or stand in the very back,” you beamed, “thank you so much, sir.”

“Of course,” he exhaled before opening up a drawer in his desk and plucking out a piece of paper, “this is the list of the required books,” he pushed it across the table before your eyes began to scan the titles, “I’m not sure if there are any copies left at the library, but maybe you can talk to some students, who has previously taken the course, if they bought a copy that you could borrow.” 

“I’ll make sure I have them, even if I’d have to steal them,” you jested. 

“Well, I don’t think I should sit here and encourage you to commit a felony, but I guess if you do get arrested, I can be your one phone-call,” he chuckled and went along with your joke, “so, about the other thing.”

“Yes,” you exhaled, both of your palms floating down to rest atop your thighs, “the kid–, kids?” 

“Just one, Benjamin, he’s six.” 

“Oh, that’s a fun age,” you smiled, “so, was it Friday?”

“Yeah, I have to attend this thing that I can’t get out of and it’s my turn to have him this week, but my ex is also busy that day, so yeah,” he sighed, “how about you just come over here after your classes that day and then we’ll hash out the rest?” 

“I will be there.”

“What are you doing here?” you grumbled as you opened the door to your dorm room. 

“Well hello to you too, sunshine,” Bucky scoffed through a smile. 

“What do you want?” you held your grip on the edge of the door. 

“A thank you would suffice,” he tilted his head. 

Squinting your eyes at the lack of context, you muttered, “what?” 

“A little birdy told me you were looking for this?” he held up the book in his hand for you to spot, which just so happened to be the exact one you hadn’t been able to track down for Professor Parker’s class. 

“Blood, Phlegm, Yellow and Black Bile: A Brief History of the Four Humors by Helen Grey?” you swiftly snatch it from his fingers with a gasp, “where did you find it? I thought there weren’t any copies left at the library!” 

“There wasn’t,” he tilted his head, “I had a short stint back in my freshman year where I flirted with the fantasy of becoming a doctor, that was until I fell madly and deeply in love with journalism.” 

Glancing down at the cover, you uttered, “can I borrow it?”

But instead, to your surprise, Bucky countered, “you can have it. It’s yours, I don’t have any use for it, except if I suddenly got a burning desire to press some flowers,” he jested about the thickness of the tome.  

“Thank you, Bucky,” you blinked up at him with a smile before throwing your arms around his broad frame. Though as you hugged him, it didn’t take long before you pushed back to utter, “wait, this isn’t just some weird trick like last time, is it? Are you gonna make me do something dirty in return for the book?”

“I thought about it,” he admitted with a smirk, his gaze briefly dipping down your form, “but then I decided to just be nice.”

“What a foreign concept that must be for you…” you teased with the faint shake of your head, “glad you’re finally trying it out.” 

“Oh yeah, I’m terrified I’ll break out into hives,” he chuckled, leaning against the doorframe, “don’t tell anyone else, I’ve got a reputation to uphold.” 

And as you smiled back at him, you noticed how gratitude wasn’t the only sensation stirring in your soul, as a warm and fuzzy feeling began to flicker throughout your frame from the genuine gesture.

“So…” his eyes briefly trailed around the room behind you, “where’s your roommate at?” 

“At Delta Phi, hanging out with her girlfriend,” you murmured, “why?” 

And as his glance landed on you once again and the corners of his lips twitched, you heard him ask, “can I come in?” 

Sucking in a breath, you felt lightheaded as you uttered, “sure,” before stepping aside for him to enter. 

And that was how your stepbrother’s best friend ended up sitting on your tiny bed, his back pressed up against the wall, as he drew you further down in his lap and let his tongue dance against your own in a heated kiss. 

“I’m sorry, what?” you foggily tilted back as his muffled words flew over your head. 

“Move your hips,” he repeated, both of his palms denting your sides, “Steve said you have a habit of humping your cute little teddy bears and pillows and such,” his eyes briefly flickered to the plushies on the mattress beside him, “so just pretend that I am one, use me to make yourself feel good.” 

Blinking back at him a moment, it took you a while before you actually managed to make your pelvis move as the flabbergasted trance was harder to snap out of than you’d expected. Though as your hips cautiously rolled against his lap, a shaky breath slipped from your lungs as the friction of his palpable hardness nudging against your core caused you to shiver. It surely didn’t help matters either that the only thing shielding you from the sensation was the panties beneath your dress, which was quickly becoming so embarrassingly soaked that your want slowly began to stain the tent in his trousers. 

“That’s it,” he groaned as he leaned back to watch your timid efforts, “fuck…” 

At first, he let you steer the ship, carefully rocking down against him for an ounce of relief, but then when you tilted forward to capture his ravenous lips once again, his wide hands on your hips flexed before they took over your movements, instead rendering you just a puppet in his grasp as he grinded you down much more roughly than you’d dared to do on your own. 

“Shit, I don’t get you… how could this be enough for you?” he grunted as he grew impatient, “isn’t every molecule in your body screaming for you to get railed right now? Doesn’t this little pussy finally wanna get used?” 

“Buck, I–,” you panted as he nibbled against your neck, “I don’t know…” 

“Oh, you don’t know?” he couldn’t help but mock. 

“This feels r-really good to me,” your eyes fluttered as he kept on rocking you in his lap. 

“Well, it’s not good enough for me,” he growled before finally snapping and flipping you onto your back. Hovering above you as you collapsed on the small bed, he began to unbuckle his belt.

“I-I–, Bucky, I don’t think I’m ready for that–,” your eyes went wide as you watched him free his intimidatingly giant cock. 

“You sure? Not even a little bit?” he slowly began to twist his fist up and down the fat length, “it could just be the tip.”

Blinking down at the bulbous head, glistening with precum, you hazily shook your head, “n-no, it’s too big…” 

“Oh, I know it is,” he then reached out to shift your legs, slotting his dick in between your soft thighs before he paused to let a dollop of spit drop down from his lips and add some slickness before he slowly began to move, “is it because of Steve? Because I can keep a secret… I won’t tell if you don’t…”

Your eyes flickered down to his fat girth as he slid it between your thighs that he pressed together, “I thought you two told each other everything.”

“Well,” he smirked as he ripped his stare away to glance to your fuzzy expression, “I’m willing to make an exception…” 

Reaching down, he greedily squeezed your tits through the thin fabric of your dress, even catching your pebbly nipples in a pinch that caused you to gasp, before he slid his touch back down to either side of your legs. 

“What are you doing Friday night?” 

“Huh?” you panted as you were unable to tear your eyes away from his cock, slick between your trembling thighs. 

“Come over, the frat’s throwing another party,” he uttered from above you, “maybe we could sneak away when everyone else is hammered enough…” 

“I can’t, I have to babysit.” 

“Really?” he chuckled as his efforts migrated so far south that the heavy weight of him came to rest against your covered core, each greedy thrust now sliding against the soaked cotton and making you whimper, “I didn’t know you were into daddies…” 

“What?” you fought to comprehend his words as his fat girth skimmed across your clit, throbbing beneath the thin fabric of your underwear. 

“Never mind, sweetie,” he gave up with a slight laugh. 

Though as he stared down at your quivering form beneath him, his grip on the outside of your thighs tightened before he suddenly began to part them like the pages of a book.

“Oh, would you look at this…” he groaned as he revealed your sodden panties beneath his big cock, “you’ve fucking ruined these, haven’t you?” a teasing finger crept down to snap the waistband back against your skin, “you wanna feel me, huh? You wanna feel me right here?” he peered down at you as he tapped the heavy weight of himself against your covered centre. 

“I–…”

Hooking his thumb in the side of the gusset, he peeled your panties to the side, “do you?” shiny strings clung to the fabric as he kept it trapped in his grasp. 

“Yes,” you then uttered, surprising yourself as the only thing you could feel in this moment was your thumping heartbeat between your thighs. 

“Atta girl,” he grinned before lowering the length in his grip down against your glistening pussy. 

Trailing the bulbous tip through your wetness, he repeatedly parted your petals with his thick girth, the jarring comparison of his size directly against you making you dizzy. Though when his sweeping motion suddenly strayed further than before and he briefly held the entire length of him against, not only your cunt, but also your belly, then you feared you might actually faint beneath him. 

“See that?” he smirked as his heavy sack nuzzled against your quivering entrance while the tip of him reached all the way up to cover your bellybutton, “that’s how deep I’m gonna get when you finally let me inside…” groaning as he finally swept back down to flick his hardness through your sobbing petals, he cocked his head, “might break you, rearranging your guts like that, but fuck will it feel good…” 

And as you felt the world around you threaten to melt away in that blissful eruption you were slowly becoming more acquainted with, Bucky abruptly tore the intoxicating contact of his cock away from you. Though before you could part your lips in a complaint, your body instead quaked as he then tapped the hefty weight of himself repeatedly down against your puffy pearl, keeping the bullying up till you were writhing in pleasure beneath him. 

You thought you’d only blinked your eyes shut for a moment in the fog of it all, but when they fluttered back open, Bucky’s hot load decorated your messy pussy as he kneeled by you, panting as he offered his length one last squeeze. 

But just as you thought he’d let your panties snap back into place as a closing curtain to the show, he instead reached down to bully your tender core even further, smearing his cum against your aching clit before he swept his coated fingers down to tickle your leaky entrance in an attempt at stuffing as much of his load into your little hole as possible, though his greedy efforts eventually derailed when his fingers were stuffed so deep inside of you that you could barely breath at all, your nails digging into his forearm as he made you squirt all over your bed and the adorable teddy bears that layed scattered. 

© 2025 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[prosypepper]

pins & needles

summary: how various jjk men react to ur new/unnoticed piercings! incl. nanami, gojo, geto, choso

warnings: veryyyyyyy suggestive (esp in nanami's), (new) piercings, geto's & nanami's is a new relationship type thing. excuse any typos pls😞. 18+ mdni!

a/n: i got like 3 new piercings over the weekend, this is just self indulgent and cute methinks. also tyyy for 700 :3, i'm trying so hard to get over the writer's block. love u all!

choso + smiley piercing!

"i've never been happier to see you," choso groans as soon as he enters your dorm, kicking off his shoes at the door. though his voice is monotone, you can infer he's tired, worn out from a day's work and fighting curses.

"rough day?" you scoot over in bed to allow room for your boyfriend, smoothing out the sheets and flipping your blanket up.

"very." the singular word is the only response choso gives before beginning to strip his uniform right in front of you. as you're watching intently, choso gets almost completely naked before grabbing some clothes he'd left over; a pair of baggy pants and an "i heart my girlfriend" shirt that you gifted him, and lazily putting them on.

"i did something today, cho," you inform him, and choso’s attention immediately snaps to you, eyes showing that he was obviously wondering.

"what’d you do?"

you give him a bright smile, all the teeth in your mouth shown to him, the shiny ring glistening atop your pretty gums. choso’s brows furrow together, his pupils coming to realize there was something new in your mouth, something different about your smile.

"what’s…that?" he asks, stepping closer and closer and eventually sitting on the bed with you. you giggle at his curious looking, his eyebrows still knitted together in an inquisitive way.

"a piercing, silly," you inform him, carefully flipping up your top lip to show where the jewelry went through the frenulum of your inner lip.

"does it hurt?" choso leans in even more, straightening his eyes with the freshly pierced hole in your mouth.

"not really, just a little bit," you tell him, letting go of your lip and pressing a quick peck to choso’s lips. it catches him off-guard, choso’s face lights up red because he thought he couldn’t kiss you. smiling triumphantly, you pull away from your boyfriend.

"it—um—it looks really pretty on you." choso compliments, "can i kiss you again? please?" and he’s so sincere and sweet, always asking permission for everything. so endearing, really, even with his deep, dark voice.

needless to say, when he kisses you again, choso is making sure to flick the jewelry all around with his tongue, faintly enough to not hurt the new wound. and it becomes a habit from thereon.

gojo + bellybutton piercing!

"i missed you so much, baby."

satoru is on top of you, arms caging you in while you lay underneath him, smiling and feebly grasping the biggest part of his bicep. it had been over a month since you'd seen your husband, he'd been away on a business trip for far too long.

"did you miss me?" his words are drawn out and dramatic, like always, like he was teasing you—but he was practically always teasing you.

"yes, satoru," you blankly reply, "i missed you."

just before you can roll your eyes, gojo's kissing you, a bit enthusiastically, but you quickly melt into his touch. as annoying as he could be, you loved him, you missed him. you had longed for him the moment he left—that was a fact you couldn’t deny.

as quickly as he meets your lips, satoru leaves, disconnecting himself to trail down your torso that was draped in a way-too-expensive t-shirt of his. but the one thing that doesn't leave you is his eyes, he keeps an intense stare on your face as he moves lower and lower towards your waistline. his fingertips dance along your sides before pinching the fabric of the bottom of the shirt and slowly lifting it up.

his eyes are no longer able to stay on yours when he catches a glimpse of the sparkly blue rhinestones on each ball of the jewelry stuck through your navel. of course, you chose the shade that best matched satoru's eye color.

"no way!" satoru exclaims, beaming with a new-found excitement for the little hole in your tummy, "you actually did it?"

"yes, satoru," you repeat, threading your fingers through the white tufts of your husband's hair.

gojo's nimble fingers come to play with the jewelry—the size comparison comedic from how large his hands are. he studies the now fully healed wound, moving the jewelry all around and practically forgetting the previous heated mood.

"do you like it?" you somewhat nervously ask, intimidated by the tedious investigation of your bellybutton.

"yes, duh," satoru dramatically quips, "you think i should get one next?"

nanami + nipple piercing!

kento had tried so hard to ignore it.

you didn't mean to distract him, really. it was a simple mishap at first, not wearing a bra when kento came over. but after the first time, he didn't seem to mind, he was gentlemanly enough. his eyes stayed averted—when you were looking at him, at least—so you took it as a green flag to remain braless when he was at your house without worry.

but nanami's only a man.

so here you are, after work, after your boyfriend had come over, ranting to him in your kitchen about your boss and whatever bullshit you had to put up with that day. but your words land upon deaf ears, noise drowned out by the sight of the little hearts poking out from the shirt you're wearing. he's sat at your dining table, legs lazily spread as he half-listens to you.

"—like, what?! what else am i supposed to do in that situation?"

for the first time in your venting session, you lock eyes with kento, noticing how they flash up quickly from...your chest.

"ken?"

"um—yes?" he chokes, a little too obviously for him to not be embarrassed over.

a smug smile rests over your face, nanami was caught red handed, ogling at your boobs and the cute heart-shaped jewelry that adorned them.

"what'cha staring at?" trailing closer to him with a teasing tone in your voice, you're killing him, embarrassing the poor man as the seconds roll on. kento doesn't reply either, only a raspy breath leaving his lungs as his response. his face heats up and his expression drops, shamelessly glancing down at your chest once more—one, two—counting the peaks of your nipples through the shirt.

"i'm sorry," he finally chokes out, unable to keep his eyes from flashing up and down, to your eyes then to your chest, again and again.

without any words, you slot yourself between nanami's legs, inching your chest closer to his face. it was so funny how easily his stoic persona disintegrated under your presence. he'd never been this close to your chest—to you. and it's intoxicating to him, he's ashamed how he loses himself by simply being eye level with your boobs.

but that guilt quickly washes away when you take his hand and place it perfectly to cup your tit—index finger and thumb resting right around the pretty jewelry under your shirt.

tdlr; that's the first night your boyfriend stays over at your place.

geto + clavicle piercing!

"you look lovely tonight."

smooth as ever, geto compliments you, his voice dripping with a sweet nectar. your insides warm up despite the harsh cold outside, the thick coat draped over your frame doing little to combat the weather.

"thank you," you whisper and smile at him, stepping into the door of the fancy restaurant suguru had chosen for your date. third date, to be exact.

once you're at your table, suguru helps you shimmy the bulky jacket off your shoulders, revealing the tasteful, deep-cut top you had chosen for your date—along with the two studs on each side of your collarbone that your clothing showed off rather perfectly.

it takes suguru a few moments to notice once he sits down. he tries to strike up conversation, relying on the simple questions and responses he can utter without getting too distracted. however, within a few minutes, geto is cracking, eyes every so often flickering down to the gems that aligned your clavicle so prettily. he can't help it, because with every slight movement you make, the jewelry sparkles in the dim light of the restaurant—it's hard to ignore.

"are you okay?" you interrupt your previous dialogue when you take note of geto's increasingly hazy replies, and how he seems a bit spaced out.

"yeah," suguru swallows deeply, "i really like your—um," his pointer finger vaguely motions to his own collarbone, and you have to look down at your chest before you realize what he’s talking about.

his mouth is dry. he’d already thought you were, like, the sexiest woman on earth, but this, oh this, was just too much. geto was unsure as to why he found the piercings so distracting, so hot, but nonetheless enjoyed the view he had.

"oh, thank you!" you giggle, smiling brightly and ghosting your fingers over the piercings—you’d honestly forgotten that this would be the first time he’s seen this much of your body, and the piercings ended up being the perfect touch to make suguru lose his mind.

and he can't wait until he's able to feel on 'em, too.

[demonpiratehuntress]

they make you cry

featuring - Zoro x F!Reader, Ace x F!Reader, Kaku x F!Reader, Law x F!Reader, Luffy x F!Reader, Sanji x F!Reader, Usopp x F!Reader

summary - sometimes you just can't handle the things they say/do

warnings - angst, fluff, hurt/comfort

taglist - @kabloswrld

a/n - this took forever to write, and I'm sorry! had to fight my writer's block real hard to get this out ☠️ some of them seem rushed and im sorry about that too!

ZORO

Zoro could be mean, you knew this when you started dating him. He didn't mince his words, nor did he sugarcoat anything. Especially when he was angry, that's when he could be the cruelest. You just never expected to be on the receiving end of that cruelty.

You were just trying to help, honestly. You thought it might be a nice gesture if you wiped his swords clean for him while he napped, and you thought he'd appreciate it. But the moment you dropped them while putting them back and woke him up, it was like something had possessed him.

"What the hell are you doing?" He demanded, sitting up and looking at you, his eyes hard.

"I'm sorry, I just wanted to clean them for you," you tried explaining yourself, hoping he wouldn't be too angry. Hoping he would calm down and stop looking at you like that.

"Why would you think that?" He scoffed. "I clean them myself, there's no need for you to do it. There's no need for you touch them at all, actually."

"I'm sorry," you apologised again, shrinking away and feeling hurt by his tone already.

"Just don't do it again," he snapped, "You don't know anything about swords. It wouldn't be such a problem if you were more like me and less like you."

"Less like me?" The tears filled your eyes before you could stop them. "What does that mean?"

"Nothing, just go away and let me nap."

And go away you did. You left his room with your eyes almost overflowing, hand covering your mouth to stifle the sob that was about to come out. You didn't understand what brought that on, why he had been so mean to you.

"(Name), wait-"

You ran off the moment his door opened again, trying to put as much distance between him and yourself as possible. You were hurt, so incredibly hurt, that you barely made it to your room before you broke down in tears, burying your face in your hands. You tried to calm down, you did, but his unprovoked verbal attack struck you right where it hurt the most, your heart. You didn't understand what he meant by "less like you", and you didn't think you wanted to. It was insult enough already.

A knock on your door startled you, and you quickly wiped your face to try and get rid of the tears but your eyes were still red and puffy. Which was immediately noticed by the swordsman when you opened the door, and he frowned.

"Were you crying?"

"What do you want?" You asked him, sniffing. "Did you come to insult me more? Maybe tell me again to stay away from your precious swords? Save it."

"I'm sorry," he interjected, taking you by surprise. He shifted nervously, not really knowing how to apologise but wanting to try because you meant more to him than he could ever say and he hated that he'd hurt you.

"Is that it?" You scoffed, about to close the door.

"No, no wait!" He stopped you, swallowing thickly and looking at the floor. "You know I'm not good with apologies. But I mean it when I say I'm sorry for what I said. You were just trying to do something nice for me and I snapped at you because I was in a mood. The stupid cook annoyed me earlier and I...didn't mean to take it out on you."

You crossed your arms, trying to look mad but you only looked sad and it tugged at Zoro's heartstrings, "Okay."

His expression softened, and when you allowed him he pulled you into his arms and hugged you, trying to show how sorry he was through his actions since he couldn't say it. He rubbed your back soothingly, pressing a gentle and apologetic kiss to the top of your head.

"But if you speak to me like that again, I'm throwing your swords into the ocean."

He chuckled, "Deal."

He spent the next few days making it up to you in various ways, either buying you a special gift from any island you stopped by, or hugging/cuddling you a little longer than usual, or teaching you some moves with his swords to prove he trusted you with them. Eventually, when his overbearing affection started worrying the crew, you had to forgive him.

ACE

The crew was celebrating a big win. Stopping by a nearby island, majority of the crewmembers could be found in bars and taverns, drinking their weight in alcohol. You were amongst them, not drinking as much but joining the merriment regardless. You smiled at the antics of your crewmates, who were trying to drunkenly flirt with woman around the room.

Your smile vanished the moment your eyes settled on your boyfriend, who was busy entertaining a crowd of younger women with the tale of your victory.

Now normally that isn't a cause for upset with you, but he tended to get a little overfriendly and even though you've spoken to him about it many, many times, he hasn't made an effort to stop his flirting - even if he didn't see it as flirting, those women certainly did. And that was the problem, he always let them think that and allowed them to get handsy with him.

You rolled your eyes, downing your drink so you could get out of here. When you lowered your pint again, the sight of one of their hands on his arm made you sick. Usually you would get angry and storm over there and break up the party, but today the sight brought tears to your eyes. It hurt you that he always did this, even when you'd asked him not to.

"(Name), where you going?" One of your crewmates asked you when they noticed you getting up. "It's still early!"

You forced a smile, trying to hide your glassy eyes, "I, uh-"

"(Name)!" Ace called you cheerfully, waving you over, "Come here!"

You frowned, then shook your head before turning and leaving the bar, letting the tears fall now that you were out of sight from the rest of the crew. Your vision blurred on the way back to the ship, but you somehow managed to get there without hurting yourself and broke down into quiet sobs as you sat on your bed and buried your face in your hands.

Sometimes it felt like you weren't enough for him, whether it was physically or emotionally. He could make you feel like the worst lover sometimes, like you couldn't give him what he wanted, even if he didn't mean to. You knew he had commitment issues, but you thought your relationship was getting more serious at this point.

"(Name)!" Ace burst into the room, looking worried. "Hey, why did you leave?"

You didn't answer, turning away from him and curling up into a foetal position facing the wall your bed was placed against. You couldn't look at him right now, not when the tears wouldn't stop.

"Baby?" He called again, the bed dipping beside you to indicate that he had sat down. "I know you're not asleep."

He reached out and gently touched your shoulder, urging you to turn around and face him. You sighed and shifted around, looking at him with a tear-stained face. His eyes instantly went wide and he flew into a panic.

"What happened? Did someone do something to you?"

"Ugh, stop it," you groaned, sitting up. "Don't pretend to care about me when you constantly do what I tell you hurts my feelings." Just mentioning it again brought the tears back, and you cursed.

He frowned when you said this, "But I wasn't flirting with them."

You gave him an exasperated look, "Do you ever realise that they consider it flirting? That they try to seduce you with all their little touches and stupid flirty smiles? No, you don't." You hastily wiped your eyes, now getting angry.

"I'm sorry-"

"No, Ace. You do this all the time. And it really, really hurts."

His expression softened, and he grabbed you and pulled you onto his lap with ease. No matter how mad you were at him, your body never fought his touch or embrace.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled into your hair. "I didn't realise they were trying to do that. I was so caught up in telling the story, especially the part where you took out all of those pirates, that I didn't see they weren't really interested. I'm sorry I'm so stupid."

The sincerity in his voice eased your mood, and you slowly stopped crying and pulled away to look at him, "Next time just ask me to come sit with you."

"I'll do better than that baby, I'll put you on my lap."

"You know that doesn't end well."

"On the contrary-"

You sighed and shook your head, unable to help the smile that formed on your lips. He really was an idiot, but he was your idiot and even if he did stupid things a lot of the time, you loved him very much.

KAKU

You and Kaku hardly ever fought, because he was a very patient and very reasonable man. He never gave you any reason to be upset with him, because while he was a ruthless assassin, to you he was an absolute sweetheart. The only problem was that he sometimes left for long missions, and you were left worrying about him at home and not knowing what was going on because he was deep undercover that he couldn't even contact you.

Like now, where he was working undercover as a foreman in Water 7. You had asked him once again if you could come with, seeing as neither of you knew how long he'd be away this time. But he refused, gently reminding you that he didn't want to put you in any danger and that your house - so far off the grid absolutely no one knew about it - was the safest place for you. You had no other option but to agree.

After many, many months spent worrying about him and struggling to sleep not knowing what's going on, your boyfriend stumbled in through the front door one night absolutely destroyed. You'd come down with one of his swords in hand - one that he kept around the house for you - only to stop dead at the sight of Kaku standing there. Actually, standing was generous. He was barely keeping himself off the ground, tall frame hunched over and trembling.

"Oh my god, Kaku!" You dropped the blade and rushed to his side, laying one of his arms around your shoulders so you could at least help him to the couch. "What the hell happened?"

"It's a long story," he groaned, laying his head over the back of the couch and closing his eyes. "Short version - the Straw Hats."

You frowned at his brief response, going to fetch your first aid kit - you'd learned after the first few times he came home that you'd need one - and bringing it back to him.

"I think I deserve an explanation," you pressed, sitting beside him and starting to tend to his more obvious wounds. "You owe me that much."

"I don't want to talk about it," he grumbled. "I'm sorry."

You didn't respond, and he cracked an eye open to see why. When he noticed how your eyes had become glassy and your bottom lip was trembling but you were biting it hard to stop it, his expression softened.

"Oh, honey."

He gently took the first aid from you and set it aside before bringing you into his arms, wrapping them around you securely. He pressed gentle kisses to the top of your head, ignoring the pain as he held you against his chest.

"I'm sorry."

"This is the worst I've ever seen you," you managed to get out, your voice small and hurt. "I had no contact with you for the longest time since you started working for them, and then you come back looking like this..." You couldn't help it, the tears just kept falling no matter how hard you tried to stop them.

He held you tighter, then moved one hand up to wipe your tears away, "But I came back, didn't I? I'm here."

You knew he was trying to reassure you, but it was difficult to be reassured when he constantly did this to you. You looked at him sceptically.

"Why would I ever risk dying?" He questioned softly, cupping your cheek in his large hand. "I have you to come home to, I don't put myself in a situation I don't think I can come out of." He kissed the tip of your nose, to make you smile like it always did. "Besides, did you ever think that maybe I like having you play nurse for me?"

You managed a small smile, warmed by his words, "Oh you do, huh?"

"Mhm."

"I guess I can forgive you. On one condition."

"Anything, honey."

"I'm coming with you on your next assignment."

"...I don't have a choice, do I?"

"Nope."

He sighed, but planted a loving kiss on your forehead, "If it will ease your mind, then okay. But you have to let me make sure your cover is safe too."

"Deal."

LAW

Law was a very complicated man, with a lot of baggage and trauma he liked to keep away from everyone else. He was reclusive, and he never quite expressed his emotions as healthily as he should. Most days you did your best to understand, to step back and be the more rational one. But sometimes his actions don't make sense, and he ends up hurting you a lot more than he thinks - or notices.

Take the last few days, for example. You two had grown quite close over the course of your relationship and he was now quite comfortable with you and showing you affection - although still privately. But ever since you'd met the Straw Hat crew and he'd been introduced to their smartest member, Robin, he'd been a lot more distant and a lot less affectionate. Like he was beginning to forget you existed.

You started to feel insecure about not being as intelligent as her and not having anything in common with your boyfriend. You'd never liked books, they paled in comparison to the adventures you embarked on on a daily basis. But now it had come back to haunt you, and in the worst way possible.

"Law, do you want to-"

"Not now, (Name)-ya," he didn't even look up from his work. "I'm just finishing some notes on something that Robin asked for."

"Oh, okay. Let me know when you're-"

"I will be heading to their ship shortly, she has a collection of books I would like to study."

"...Right. Okay."

You blinked back tears, knowing he would just get irritated with your emotional display. Turning away from him, you left the room to go get some air and maybe feel sorry for yourself. It did hurt, him immediately dismissing you for another woman, even if it wasn't romantic. He was spending less time with you, and more time with her.

"(Name)!"

Your face lit up, thinking Law had finally come to his senses. But when you turned around, you saw him making his way to the Thousand Sunny while Bepo was the one who had called out to you. And then you couldn't hold it back anymore; you burst into tears.

You usually didn't cry like this. You were good at keeping your emotions in check. It was a side-effect of being around the stoic captain so much - you'd learned how to control your own emotions. But right now, it was too much to bear and your insecurities and fears came crashing down around you, drowning you in sorrow.

"What's wrong??" Bepo asked worriedly, immediately pulling you into a hug. "Did something happen?"

"No," you hiccupped, "I mean, yes, but it doesn't matter."

Your eyes drifted to the deck of the Sunny, where Law was engaged in what looked like a meaningful conversation with the female devil fruit user. Sighing, you tried your best to wipe your eyes and gently pushed Bepo away.

"I'm okay, I just...I need to be alone."

As you walked off, Bepo followed your gaze and spotted the issue. He frowned, having also noticed that his captain had recently been preferring Robin's company over his own girlfriend.

"Captain!" The bear called, rushing over to Law and Robin.

"Not now, Bepo," Law dismissed him, returning his attention to the raven-haired woman.

"But something is wrong with (Name)!" Bepo protested, whoch was a half-lie, half-truth. There was something wrong, but it wasn't with you. He just knew Law wouldn't follow him back otherwise.

"What?" Law instantly felt worry start to fill him. "Where is she?"

"I don't know, I saw her just now, crying, and then she ran off."

Law frowned. He didn't like it when you cried. Not because it was irritating, but because he always got this weird, ugly feeling when you did. You should never have to cry, you should never have to feel pain. Instantly, he goes back to the Polar Tang but not to look for you. He just simply uses his devil fruit to get you back into his room, and when he does he feels guilty by the sight.

Your eyes are red and puffy and you're sniffing like you're sick, but you're not sick. You're avoiding his gaze and casting your eyes downward to the floor, unable to look at him. And you're hugging yourself.

"(Name)-ya," he calls, hoping to get you to look at him.

"I thought you were with Robin," you tell him quietly, the hurt evident in your small, vulnerable voice.

He frowns, "I was, but-"

"Then we don't need to talk about anything," you cut him off. "I'm fine, go bacl to your conversation." You can't help being a bit snippy, tired of crying and even more so of being sad.

"You have been crying," he argued, "That is my concern."

"Oh really?" You suddenly glared at him. "I didn't think you'd notice. But you didn't, did you? Bepo had to tell you, because you were so engrossed in your new girlfriend!" You scoffed, rubbing your face and getting up. "Leave me alone."

"No," Law blocked your path out of the room. "I want to talk about this. And...I want to apologise for hurting you." He paused awkwardly, never good with apologies. "I didn't mean to spend so much time with her and neglect you, I promise. I just kept losing track of time, and I got a little bit eager that someone else was interested in some of the same things I am."

"Yeah, I know," you mumbled, "I'm sorry I'm not that person. I'm sorry I'm not your ideal girlfriend." The tears started falling again, and the ache returned to Law's chest.

"That's not what I meant," he moved closer, "You are perfect just the way you are. I don't want you to be like me, I don't think I could date someone like me. I often wonder how you do it."

Your eyes widen at the vulnerable revelation, and that leads you to start listening to his sincere words and slowly calm down.

"If I neglect you like that again, please just tell me," he pleaded, taking your hands in his. "Don't suffer in silence, I don't like seeing how it's affected you. And I don't like being the reason you cry. So please, just talk to me when I hurt you. Pull me away from any conversation, throw my books, whatever. Just make sure I listen."

"Okay," you slowly smiled, nodding. "But you can't yell at me if I do."

He sighed, but felt relieved that he was forgiven, "I won't."

"Great. Now you owe me a lot of cuddles and even more kisses," you pout. "And double the amount of hugs."

"Done, done and done," he murmured as he leaned down to kiss you sweetly and gently.

LUFFY

If Luffy hasn't upset you in some way, you'd be suspicious. His carefree nature was bound to anger or frustrate you in some way or the other, and his tendency to overexert himself in fights often ended with you concerned for his health in general. He's never made you cry, because if there's one thing Luffy can do well it's keep his promises.

Until he meets Boa Hancock.

And you get it. She's gorgeous, she's powerful, she's a queen. She's everything a woman should be, and you can't help but feel envious of the attention she gets from men. Luffy doesn't really care for her looks, which is a little comforting, however she found the way to his heart and every time you guys met her on the ocean she had the nerve to throw him a huge feast. And your beloved, naive boyfriend always thought she was just being nice and gorged himself on her food, missing the way she looked at him longingly and not understanding her flirtatious advances.

But you understood them very well.

But as mentioned before, she's a powerful person. Not just because she's a devil fruit user, but also because she's a Warlord. You knew you couldn't piss her off in any way, for the safety of the crew, but she had no such qualms. It seemed she knew that you hated how much she attended to Luffy, she knew how much you hated her advances and how Luffy always ate whatever she offered. And she abused her title, doing it on purpose because she knew there was nothing you could do.

Most of the time it was just frustrating beyond comparison. But slowly it ate away at you, and one particular meeting had you excusing yourself in an attempt to escape what seemed like a suffocating situation.

Boa was once again on your ship - it seemed like she purposely sought it out just to see your boyfriend, and she probably did. Luffy was enjoying yet another one of her feasts, and she was sat right beside him. Touching his arm and saying sweet things to him like he didn't already have a girlfriend. Batting her eyelashes at him and offering him sweet smiles that would knock the socks off any man other than Luffy. Once again, he didn't seem to notice how uncomfortable it made you, and you felt your eyes brim with tears.

Maybe he did notice and just didn't mind. Maybe he did notice and actually enjoyed her attention like everyone else did. Maybe you had him all wrong in this particular situation. He had spent a long time with her on her island, after all.

"Excuse me," you mumble to no one in particular, rising from your seat and swiftly exiting the room. It was like you couldn't breathe, your throat burning as the tears started falling faster and faster, until you could barely see.

You were sure he hasn't even noticed you were gone. He probably hadn't even seen you leave. And that thought had you clinging to your pillow harder as you screamed into it, hot angry tears rolling down your cheeks in unstoppable waves. You were so hurt and upset that you didn't notice your room door swing open and a certain captain barge in.

"(Name)?" Luffy called, sounding confused. "Are you okay?"

You felt your body bounce a little as the overeager captain jumped onto your bed, but in your stubbornness you refused to look at him and turned away instead.

"Go away, Luffy."

Luffy was not used to hearing those words from you. Nor was he used to hearing the sadness in your voice, the way it cracked halfway, and the miserable sniff that came afterwards. He was not used to seeing you like this, so sad.

"What's wrong?" He tugged on your shoulder, trying to get you to turn back around to face him. "Are you sick? Is your stomach sore?"

"No, Luffy!" You sat up and yelled in exasperation. "I'm tired! I'm so, so tired okay!" You rubbed your face and curled up, thighs pressed tightly to your chest. "I'm tired of my boyfriend letting some other woman fawn over him with no boundaries. I'm tired of watching my boyfriend be sweet-talked and flirted with by some other woman. And I can't do anything, because she's a Warlord!"

Luffy's eyes went wide, and then he burst out laughing, "Are you worried about Hammock?" The incorrect name almost had you smiling, but you managed to keep your face stoic. "(Name), I only want you. You know that right?"

"Yes," you sighed, "And I trust you, Luffy. It's just...you never stop her and sometimes it makes me feel like I'm not enough. Like she does more for you than I ever could." Your gaze fell. "Sometimes I think you actually like her."

Suddenly his arms were around you and he was squeezing you in the tightest hug he'd ever given.

"I don't like anyone the way I like you, (Name)," he promised. "ANd I never will. You are the only person who makes me feel like this, and you do enough for me already. You cook for me! I bet Hammock doesn't even make the food herself. If it came to choosing you or her, it would always be you."

Your cheeks burned when he said that, and slowly a smile formed on your lips, "That's really sweet, Luffy. Thank you. I needed to hear that."

He nuzzled his face against yours affectionately, "I will remind you as many times as you want!"

SANJI

Sanji's most annoying habit tended to irritate you majority of the time, and every instance ended with you practically fuming and storming off after telling him off angrily. He would normally appease you with something sweet, or your favourite dish. In some extreme cases, both. But you never stayed mad at him, because he made it impossible for you to do so. You just never expected that one day the hurt would become too much for you to handle, and you'd react with sadness rather than fury.

The crew had been given the day off to explore another island. Everyone had split to do their own things, but the cook insisted on accompanying you because it was one of the rare times he got to spend alone with you for an entire day. So the two of you strolled through the vibrant town, enjoying the atmosphere and each other's presence.

That is, until Sanji forgot about your warning to not flirt with anyone on this island. He deemed it just being a gentleman, but you knew better than that.

When you caught him staring as your words faltered, you expected the usual bout of anger to flare within you. You were ready to tell him off again, a dozen insults coming to mind for that woman, when you felt a sharp pang in your chest instead. Your words caught in your throat, and a sorrow like nothing you'd ever experienced filled you.

Had he been staring the entire time you were talking to him? To make matters worse, he seemed to forget you were speaking and drifted over to the lady to compliment her dress.

You felt humiliated. No one here actually knew you two, but it was embarrassing that you couldn't even keep your lover's attention on you. Your cheeks burned, your throat along with them, and your eyes brimmed with tears. It was made worse when you glanced around at all the other couples, and found them happily clinging to each other and acting like they were the only two people in the world.

"What do you think, ma chérié?" Sanji's voice suddenly filled your ears. "Do you like it?"

You hastily wiped your eyes, trying to look like you did before, "Um, like what? Sorry, I wasn't listening..."

He didn't seem to notice the sadness in your tone or the forlorn expression on your face, he just barrelled on, "This pretty young woman's dress, what do you think of it?"

"A-are you serious?" You choked out, feeling the burning in your throat get worse.

"Yes! Doesn't it look nice?"

You couldn't take it anymore. You were hyperventilating at this point. Scared of being embarrassed further with your impending sobbing, you turned and sprinted as fast as you could away from the scene. He called after you, but you weren't listening.

He arrived at the ship at the same time you did, leaving you confused. You were about to push past him when he grabbed your waist, stopping you.

"Wait, my love, I'm sorry," he apologised, "Don't cry, please."

You smacked his hand away from your face, "No, don't. If you were really sorry, you'd stop flirting with every woman you see like I told you to! But no, you keep doing it." Your eyes watered again. "Do you have any idea what it's like? Seeing your own lover interested in someone else, not even listening to you?"

Sanji was speechless. He had no idea it affectef you this much, but he blamed himself for going on with it even when you told him not to.

"How would you feel if I flirted with every guy I saw?" You demanded.

"Oh no, please don't," he begged, heart sinking at the thought.

"But it's okay for you to do it?" You looked away, and his heart broke.

"I'm sorry," he apologised again, "I am, really. But I wasn't flirting with her, I promise! I was just asking where she got that dress because it looked so nice and I thought it would look good on you..."

Your eyes widened when you heard this, "Wait, what? Is that why you asked if I liked it?"

"Mhm," he smiled, "I wanted to get it for you if you did."

You were the speechless one now. All that time he had been thinking of you, and you'd gone and assumed the worst. Now you felt even more embarrassed, but for a totally different reason.

"Sanji, I-"

"No need to apologise, love," he immediately hugged you when it seemed like it was okay for him to. "I haven't exactly given you reasons to trust me not to flirt. But I promise, I am doing my best to not do it. I don't want to lose you."

He really was too cute to stay mad at, or even to stay sad about, and you ended up smiling and leaning in to kiss him.

"Fine, but do it again and I'm going to leave you for Zoro."

His face paled, "No no, ma chérie, you can't be serious! Love, wait! Are you serious??" And he followed you to your room, begging you to tell him you were lying.

USOPP

You were well aware that Usopp had had a romantic interest in a girl long before he met you. He would never tell you about her, but Nami and Luffy told you about her and what they knew about her relationship with Usopp. As far as you could tell, they had never done anything more than kiss once.

You felt like you were getting in the way of their relationship, and most days that thought just put you into an emotionless daze. You felt like you couldn't compare, because she seemed to be his first love. And as bad as this sounds, you started to feel like you were a relationship of convenience to him. Someone to keep him company while he longed for another.

"You know that's not true," Nami would reassure you when you confided in her. "He's not like that. He really loves you."

"I can tell he thinks about her sometimes," you argue, "And we don't know whether or not he imagines her in my place when we kiss or do anything remotely romantic. Who's to say he wouldn't go back to her if we somehow made it back to the East Blue?"

Nami couldn't give you the answer to that, and it hurt all the more. You tried not to let it get to you, you really did, but some days were worse than others. Some days you felt inferior, like you were not as pretty as she was, even though you'd never seen her. If he was so crazy about her to still be thinking about her months after he'd met you, he surely still loved her, right?

"Usopp, I have a question," Nami asked the sharpshooter one day.

"Uhhhh, no I did not borrow any money from you..." He replied nervously, eyes darting around the room.

The navigator's eyes narrowed, "We'll get to that later. Anyway, if we went back to the East Blue, what would you do? Would you want to rekindle your relationship with Kaya?"

Usopp's face paled, "What kind of question is that?!"

"Just answer!"

"I...I don't know!" He cried, then attempted to flee only to see you standing in the doorway, your eyes glistening. "(Name)-"

"I get it," you swallowed thickly, "She was your first love. I just wish you'd stop pretending like this relationship means anything to you." You turned and retreated to your room, locking the door and falling down against it, tears flowing freely.

You knew it was unfair. You knew he'd known her his whole life and you just a year. But you kind of hoped that since you'd actually developed what you thought was a meaningful, deep romantic relationship with him, he wouldn't have to think about it. You kind of hoped he would just choose you, simple as that. And you know it was unfair to him, and selfish of you. But you couldn't help it.

"(Name)!" The sharpshooter knocked on your door. "Please let me in!" He sounded panicked, like he did before you all went into a fight.

"Go away, Usopp," you yelled, but the pain in your voice was too clear for him to ignore.

Normally he would give up. He does that very easily. But when it comes to you he doesn't stop, and he never will. He hates leaving you on your own, especially when you're upset and even more so when he's the reason you're upset.

"Please, baby," he pleaded, "Let me explain! I never said I would! Please, just open up. Let's talk about this!"

"You can say what you want through the door," you told him, "Otherwise we don't talk at all." And yes, again this was unfair to him, but again you couldn't help it.

"I know what you must be thinking," he immediately started, "And you're wrong. Yes I used to love Kaya, and yes we almost had a relationship, but that was clearly not meant to be. Because I met you, and I fell in love with you, and I can't imagine loving anyone else now that I know what it feels like to love you." He paused for a moment, thinking of what else to say, and then, "You're the love of my life now, and I know that it will stay that way even if we were to somehow end up back in the East Blue. You are my girlfriend now, and I only ever want or think about you. Please believe me, it'll only ever be you."

Hearing all of this slowly calmed you down, and you didn't even notice when the tears stopped. His sincere, loving words hit you right where you needed them the most, and you stood up to open the door.

"You mean all that?"

"Yes," he looked like he was on the verge of tears himself. "Please don't break up with me."

"Oh, Usopp," you laughed and wiped your eyes, "I could never do that. Especially not after such sweet words. You're stuck with me."

"And hopefully always will be," he added, immediately hugging you and almost crushing your bones. "I'm so sorry (Name), I'm sorry I made you cry!" And then he actually started crying.

"Usopp..."

[lainloves]

BABY FEVER?!

Pairing; TRAFALGAR LAW X FEM! READER

;; FLUFF FLUFF FLUFFFF!

Synopsis; headcanons with law and a pregnant s/o. And a few with his baby.

;; AFTER ONE year of posting a single fanfic, I am back. Writers block killed me so bad :`(

➜ when he found out you were pregnant, it was like he got hit with a thousand bullets. He just stood there while you tinkered with your hair as he looked at you with wide eyes and his jaw hanging open as he dropped his book.

➜ SUPPERRR affectionate, he likes to look out for you everyday especially since you're pregnant he does his best to protect you from enemies and potential threats that want to hurt you.

➜ Being the doctor of the heart pirates, he gives you proper check-ups and checks on you daily to see how you are.

➜ everytime he's alone with you he always hugs your belly or when you're sleeping he talks to your pregnant tummy.

"Be good to your mom okay?" Law said while he laid down next to you, sleeping peacefully as he looked down at the large protruding belly as his tattooed fingers wrapped around your stomach, he was smitten with his unborn child. He'll give anything to make his baby happy once they popped out their mother. "Stop kicking her so much," he hummed. When you silently observed the conversation with closed eyes, it's almost sweet that he does this every night. "I'm still awake, law." You softly said when law's ears turned into a darker shade of red when he huffed. "I think it's cute, Y'know?" You smiled, putting your palm over his.

➜ Loves spoiling you, even when he acts all snobby..In the end when you ask for him to give you a massage on the shoulders he'll give them.

➜ Always pesters you if you ate breakfast, lunch, or dinner.

➜ he gets super mad when you carry something heavy or do any workload, he's completely put you off any chores to do since you had a special case growing inside you, cleaning duty was now in shachi’s hands. Even if he didn't wanna— but he couldn't complain since law might just extend it further.

➜ Whenever you two shop for baby items, he picks out one that was super cute, and if not he sews the heart pirates’ jolly roger on his baby's onesies and beanie's. It was the cutest thing ever.

➜ during labor, law was the one to perform the delivery and as he holds his baby he felt like all his problems washed away.

➜ he's definitely a girl dad.

➜ He's willing to survive the midnight cries, and the diaper changes.

➜ Sometimes law is afraid because he's got a big bounty on his head, he gets really nervous thinking about it. What if his baby or you were used against him? He can't bear to experience that.

➜ ALWAYYSSS is so protective of his baby, whenever someone tries to look at his child he will give them the stink eye.

"aw your baby is so cute!" A lady said when law was walking down the busy streets of the new island they docked in to restock on supplies. "How old is she?" The lady asked. "4 months." Law said, when the lady tried to pinch his daughter he immediately backed away. "Um, yeah.." law said, "oh— I'm sorry. Am I not allowed?" She asked. Law just shakes his head indicating he doesn't wanna, since her hands were dirty and didn't want them to get in his precious baby's cheek.

➜ He will do everything in his power to give his daughter the world, he doesn't want his baby, his precious little girl or boy to go through what he went through as a kid.

I have unfinished stories in my drafts, I might post more :3

[luvvcharxo]

so in love with you - mark grayson headcanons

warnings: fluff, smut, NSFW CONTENT!! MINORS DNI. word count: 541 summary: boyfriend!mark x fem!reader headcanons. notes: hi so this is just some tired rambling from me because i have writers block so i cant write an actual fic. sorry, hope this feeds the mark lovers. yall, the suit stays on!!

boyfriend!mark who always makes sure to bring something for his girlfriend when he's late (as usual) to a date.

boyfriend!mark who tries his best to plan the dates, but secretly likes it when you take charge.

boyfriend!mark who has you saved as his wallpaper, a picture of you in his phonecase, and has a picture of the two of you as his pfp for EVERYTHING. no one can argue with the fact that that man loves you.

boyfriend!mark who always makes time to send you a 'good morning' and 'good night' text. it doesn't matter whether he's just been beaten up, or is about to be beaten up, he will always do his best to make time for you.

boyfriend!mark who likes to show his affection subtly, like when he does the sidewalk rule or when he holds your hand when he notices you feeling anxious. he's not opposed to PDA, too.

boyfriend!mark who feels happy when you show PDA, a big smile on his face if you give him a small kiss before going to work or school, or when you hold his hand when walking together.

boyfriend!mark who likes to remember little stuff about you, whether it be that one makeup product you wanted ages ago, or the name of your first pet. he'll even remember that one person you hated years ago and talked shit about to him.

boyfriend!mark who's too scared to initiate anything physical, worried you'll reject him (even though the two of you are literally dating).

boyfriend!mark who gets flustered during the first time you have sex, but eventually gets the hang of it.

boyfriend!mark who could live between your thighs and would be the happiest man alive, eating you out for the rest of yours (and his) life.

boyfriend!mark who worries whether he'll hurt you with his viltrumite strength, but you reassure him that you'll be fine. besides, you wouldn't mind getting crushed by those muscles anyway. it would be a nice way to die.

boyfriend!mark who stares at you for a moment when you stop him from removing his suit when you two are on your bed.

boyfriend!mark who's face turns bright red when you sheepishly ask him to keep the suit on, doing your best to prevent yourself from grinding against his hard length that you can already feel poking against your thigh.

boyfriend!mark who actually enjoys it (maybe a bit too much) when you sit in his supersuit-cladded lap, the friction between your lower halves making you let out a small whimper.

boyfriend!mark who's grateful for the fact that the suit is so tight, meaning he can still feel everything you do and how you feel.

boyfriend!mark who can feel your wetness seep through the fabric when you remove your pants.

boyfriend!mark who can't help but cum in his suit when you let out the most pornographic moan he's ever heard after rubbing against his hard-on.

boyfriend!mark who doesn't cares about the clean-up (that's a problem for future him to think about) and instead flips the two of you over, a smug smile on his face, ready for round two. maybe with the suit off, this time.

extra notes: hiii im so sorry if this isnt written well. im not used to writing sexual content, but i hope this is okay. love u guys, and reblogs are very welcome!! :3

⋆ MASTERLIST

[parfaitblogs]

i NEED a angst fic (with a happy ending ofc) based on tolerate it by taylor swift please 🙏 big chance it’s been done before though and im just the most unoriginal bitch ever

tolerate it ❀ s. reid x reader

in which spencer reid gets out of prison, and you baselessly feel like your relationship is growing increasingly one sided.  pairing: spencer reid x reader genre: angst tags: post prison reid. neglectful bf spencer reid. happy (open) ending. communication yippee. themes of self doubt in reader. mentions of spencer not eating.  word count: 2k a/n: writers block isn't real you just need to watch criminal minds season 12 episode 13 'spencer' and then listen to tolerate it on repeat for three hours straight. iiii know human beings don't talk in long monologued speeches but for the sake of my sanity let us pretend i am shakespeare and spencer reid is my leontes. plzzzz tell me if u liked this or if u didn't yay thank u ily

i sit and watch you. i notice everything you do, or don't do. (lines 3–4)

A fork scrapes against ceramic. It emits a scratching sound that hurts your ears, and you're cringing from your curled up position on the couch as you hear it. Silverware shines beneath the bright, warm glow of his kitchen light, his food barely dented as he pushes it around his plate. 

He's been playing with it since he sat down to eat it. 

You're not too sure what's going through his head as he takes barely there bites of a meal you cooked. You don't think you want to know. But it takes him all of twenty three minutes to come to the same conclusion he made last night, and every other night before that. That he isn't going to eat any more of the food, and just like his fork, his chair scrapes against the floor as he stands. 

He wraps the plate in aluminium foil, the crinkling of metal being your only indicator that he has plans to eat it later. At least, that's what you hope. 

When he disappears into the bedroom, you follow him. Like a lovesick puppy, you're trailing after him, and your chest feels hollow with how embarrassing it all is. 

He doesn't know you're watching him, though. 

At least, not to the extent you are. He's field trained enough to know that you're keeping an eye on him, but your silence is only indicative of you giving him the space he so politely asked for three days ago. He's not in his right mind to assume you're silent for any other reason, and you've battled to a loss with the thoughts of letting him into your disaster of a brain. 

He doesn't need to know that.

The ensuite door shuts behind him, and you hear the water turn on minutes later. You take the cue to curl up on your side of the bed, your fingers toying with the paper edges of a book you now had in your lap. The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe, for you were rediscovering your love for children's novels amongst this trying time between you and Spencer. 

"Hey, did you buy me more shampoo?"

Your head lifts at the voice, the snowy Narnia world you had built in your brain shattering in an instant, as you're met with the dull colours of Spencer Reid's bedroom, and a showered and dressed Spencer Reid standing only a few feet away. His bedroom hadn't always been dull. Really, nothing had actually changed artistically within it to make it dull. But there's something about no longer laughing in a room once filled with so much love that mutes its vibrance. 

"Yeah," you say, dog-earing the page you were on and slipping it onto the nightstand. "I saw you were running low."

His lips part as he exhales, and you hate that you can tell he's pushing away something snippy. It wasn't that he was actively trying to start fights with you, but his temper has grown short, and he has more anger in his heart than before. 

"You didn't get the right one, that's all."

And though it isn't said rudely, your chest opens up like a black hole regardless, and a thick ball of emotion lodges in your throat.

"I'm sorry," you force past your lips, despising the hollow sound of your sad voice, and the fact that he notices it. His eyebrows frown towards each other at the sound of you, and he takes a step towards the bed.

It's pathetic, right? To be this upset over him letting you know the thing you bought him wasn't correct. In that almost fake sounding soft, kind voice he has when he is trying to keep his unnecessary frustration at bay. 

But it wasn't like this was the first time you'd done something for him in recent, and been told you did it wrong, instead of simply being thanked. Acts of service he was finding problems within no matter what they were, each new critique chipping away at the scales of your self confidence. You don't even think he's meaning to do it.

Every time this happens, memories of the other times flash violently in your head, reminding you that he could not find the beauty of being cared for by you the way he had before this. This, this thing you were barely even able to string the letters of together, because it seemed so foreign and faraway to you. Spencer Reid in prison is not a sentence that makes sense in this — or any other — timeline. You don't think it ever will. And yet.

You'd cooked him meals every single day since he got out. Meals he'd barely ever touch, wrap in foil, then put in the fridge for his work lunch the next day. You don't know if he's even eating them at work, or if he's just taking them there to throw them out. You've been too scared to reach out to any of his team members to ask. Knowledge is power, but knowledge makes his negligence all too real. 

There's a fear in calling it negligence. It isn't fair of you to expect the same man before and after prison, and you know he's dealing with more than you can fathom. You were prepared for distance. 

Just not this much.

The submerged sound of your name tugs you from your thoughts, and suddenly Spencer is closer than he was before, and he's repeating your name over and over in calling. Once you rapidly blink and shake your head, he determines you've returned to Earth, and he's falling silent again. There's concern knitting his eyebrows together, and he's got his hands hovering in the air, as if he's reaching for you, but second guessing himself at the same time. 

"Whats going on in your brain?" he asks you after a few beats of the two of you just staring at each other. 

Like a dam breaking, his question triggers an onslaught of emotions, and every fear and insecurity you've had inside you spills out.

"I feel like you suddenly hate me," your eyes rapidly search the duvet in front of you for your words. "Or—or I annoy you with my presence? Or my care? I mean, I try to do things for you and you barely even spare them a second glance, or thought. You barely talk to me anymore outside of updating me on your schedule. We sleep with miles of distance between us," you gesture to the bed beside you. "I cook you meals you don't eat, I wash your clothes you don't fold. Both of which are things that I'm fine with, because I can't imagine how skewed your appetite is, and I—I know laundry is a trigger now. But there is not even a slight hint of you—you being thankful. You know, appreciative. I feel like I'm following you around like a servant, and I'm doing things with no gratitude in return. I'm doing things I shouldn't have to, because I'm your girlfriend. Not your maid. But they are things that I want to do, because I care for you, and I love you," you pause, a self deprecating smile appearing on your face. "And—and you haven't even told me you love me since the day we got you home. Do you even love me, still? No, don't answer that. I don't think I want to know. I mean, I do. I don't know. God, Spencer, can you say something?"

He doesn't. For a long while, he stares at you, and you train your eyes on the pattern on the bedding you're currently sitting under. His gaze is pulverising, and every second that passes is another limb turning to dust beneath it. His silence should be enough of an answer for you. Yet, you hold onto groundless hope still.

It feels like eternity has passed you by, by the time you hear his voice again.

"I don't mean to make you think I don't love you," he says. "I do love you. Which feels meaningless to confess to you now, knowing how you feel, and I wish my expansive knowledge of words could come up with a confession that does justice to how you feel, but also makes you feel better. I can only hope you take it at face value, and don't assume I'm saying it because it's what you want me to say." 

He finds a seat on the bed in front of you, fingers fidgeting with each other as he fixates on the wooden flooring in front of him. 

"I am grateful for everything you've done for me recently. I'm sorry I haven't expressed that. I'm having a hard time putting one foot in front of the other, let alone stringing together sensical thoughts. I wish I could tell you what my mind sounds like without feeling guilty about it. It isn't nice, and every thought I have is far from positive," he lifts his eyes to you, and you watch in real time as they soften, for the first time since he came home. "I will tell you that there's you. Among every awful thought and feeling I have, there is you. I think I... I think I've been coming across as ungrateful because you are a breath of relief after every bad thought and feeling. Am I making sense?" you nod your head, and he sighs in, namely, relief. "I take a step back from processing my emotions and figuring out how I'm going to talk about them with that bureau therapist when I think about you, because you are the one good thing I have to hold on to. So I just bask in the thought of you, or the sight of you, and focus on nothing else."

You aren't sure when you began to cry, and you only realise it when you have to sniffle before speaking. "You can focus on so many things at once, though." 

"Not anymore," he admits, looking back down. "I don't know what's happened. I've gone from having a brain that works inhumanly — which is objectively an incorrect statement, but I digress — to one that cannot multitask on two separate things at once." 

"Oh," you whisper. "I see."

"I'm so sorry I've made you feel as though your efforts go unnoticed, honey," he murmurs. "They don't. This has just been really difficult."

"I know," you say, wiping your tear stained face with the back of your hand. 

There's a part of you that wants this to be the end of it. The end of self doubt, and distance, and instead the beginning of your relationship rebuilding itself alongside Spencer. 

There's a larger, more logical part of you, that knows you cannot just sweep every self conscious doubt under the rug and move on. 

"I just want some time," you tell him, and his shoulders tense as you speak. "Not to—not to break up. Or even for us to have a break. I don't want that. I've just felt very... unloved. Like you're merely tolerating my presence in your life. And now, I know you aren't. But I have to find my confidence in myself in this relationship again before I can move on."

"Okay," his voice is strained as he speaks, and you know he's not exactly content with your request for space.

You try not to focus on that, in order to stand firm in your decision. 

That is where the conversation ends. And just like every other night, he climbs into bed and leaves a considerable amount of distance between your two bodies. You choose not to dwell on it, because this is now him giving you the space you so politely requested. You were catastrophising, and you'd be damned if you let such a thing control your life any longer. 

It maybe wasn't all in your head, but you still had to take the self doubt shaped dagger from your stomach out.

now i'm begging for footnotes in the story of your life. (line 30)

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

[ettawrites]

Could you make genin Naruto, Sasuke, Gaara, Rock Lee and Neji x reader who is their crush and they end up having to fight reader in the chunin exam?

Yessss, yes I will 😊

Fighting Them During The Chunin Exam

A/N: half of this was written with writers blocks the other half was written when I was high, so don’t judge the quality okay 😊

Naruto

- One by one you both watched as everyone was drawn. When it was just down to four of you, Naruto prayed he would get Kiba

- You both gave a side eye when you were the last opponents

- Oh fucking shit

- He was actually a bit (really) mad, protesting that he could not fight you because you were a friend but when the only response was fight or surrender he bit the inside of his cheek

- “Friend”… yuh uh, he means totally smitten to the point he feels like a dog

- But he couldn’t surrender, not when he was this close to getting his chunin but he didn’t know where you guys would stand after it

- When you reassured him this is just how it was supposed to be and said you’d be honoured to fight him, he only frowned and scratched his head.

There he stood, across from you on this dirty cement floor and he was mesmerized on how you could just smile.

“This gotta be a joke, can you just redraw?” He asked the , displeased evident.

“There’s nobody to draw from, you both are the last opponents,” he irked, finding Naruto’s stupidly uncharming.

“Naruto it’s fine, let’s just do this, I’m hungry,” You slumpt, anxious to get this over with.

- he went easy at the start, only throwing kunais and he played defence

- When he realized you weren’t going easy, he was caught off guard as you punched him right in the face

- He stumbled, looking at you with somehow even more admiration

- Then he got serious and the fight really started

- You lost, but some part of you kind of anticipated it

- You were sprawled out on the floor, head pounding from the attack and you were honestly just so tired from the forest

- When you surrendered he felt relieved, he didn’t know how much longer he could take fighting you

- He ran over to you, he wasn’t happy with the win

- He apologized over and over, helping you up and taking you to the infirmary

- He was so glad you guys were still friends, you meant so much to him

- Totally just friends

- He takes you out for ramen after

- He still is on edge for quite some time, he makes excuses why he can’t train with you and he definitely won’t rough house like you guys use too

——

Sasuke

- king of looking like he doesn’t give a shit

- He does

- He’s literally panicking internally and in private probably bites his nails from anxiety

- He thinks he’s anxious to fight you, that has to be it? Out of everyone you are most worthy to him potential wise

- He’s lying to himself, he doesn’t wanna believe that he’s scared to fight you because you mean a lot to him

- He’ll avoid you for the month of training and when you come to confront him about it he’s eerily upset

“We’re not friends, I am getting my chunen license even if it means hurting you,” he says, stopped inside his door frame as he watches you fold your arms over your chest.

“So that’s it, friendship over because of a silly competition?” You respond, you knew sasuke was aloof and stubborn, but really?

“We never were friends,” he replied, as casual as one could and he hated the way your eyes got glossy. He watched you leave, regretting it but he won’t take it back.

- you were nervous, standing in the podium as the crowd was watching you

- Sasuke wasn’t here yet, which you’d hope he wouldn’t show up at all

- You were a bit annoyed as he spawned in with kakashi, trying to be ‘cool’

- He was surprised when you actually put up a fight, a good one too

- But also kind of proud

- He did not go easy on you, at all and was definitely being yelled at by Naruto on the stands

- he won, by default as you had passed out and could not continue to fight

- He wanted to check on you, instead lurking outside your door and kinda of just shuffling around

- He’ll ask the nurses if you’re okay, but he won’t dare go in already knowing he’s fucked up your guys friendship

——

Gaara

- low key you were shitting your pants cause WHATT???

- You saw what that boy did to Rock Lee, and now you have to fight him?

- He on the other hand doesn’t care, but the more it gets closer to the fight he starts feeling uneasy

- He’s… what they refer to as a monster? So why is he kind of concerned for this nobody wannabe?

- He had sat beside you during the first test, intrigued by you

- Your the first person that has ever smiled at him so.. genuinely

- And now he has to fight you? A big part of him was set on absolutely destroying you to stop this uneasiness in his chest

- I mean, he didn’t even know if he had a gentle bone in his body, all he knows how to do is ruin things

“You…” his cold voice came, you were walking home in the dusk from the ramen shop after hanging out with Naruto.

“Uh.. yeah? Hey?” You responded, confused and a bit anxious as you stuffed your hands in your pockets. He came closer, a blank look on his face.

“Forfeit,”

“Huh?”

“Forfeit the fight, I will kill you,” He explained, blinking so casually as he watched your complexed reaction.

- he, in his own scary way, was trying to warn you that he could not control himself

- He was kind of happy when you got his underlying message.. you really were different

- You forfeited privately, to your sensei who completely understood

- Gaara was grateful when the next night Baki had told him his opponent had changed

——

Rock Lee

- When you were paired with him for the semi finals he had frowned

- He apologized to Neji and his sensei

- Both were very confused

- He had that cute little ‘hmpf’ look on his face with an even cuter pout as he walked down the steps

- When he came face to face to you you saw this look in his eyes

- Both of you didn’t say anything when the ref asked if anyone wanted to forfeit before he called fight

You braced, drawing your Kunai when the fight began. Rock Lee raised his hand, looking like his traditional taijustu pose.

“I cannot fight you (y/n)! Please forgive me I forfeit,” he yelled, clasping his hands together and falling to his knees before you in a bow.

“…wha…?” You deadpanned, uneased by how loud he had just shouted that. He looked up, seriousness written all over him.

- You guys didn’t talk until after everyone had battled, finding him hiding from you behind the tree outside

- He slumped as you yelled at him

- He let you rant before he started his own ramble, explaining how he couldn’t fight you

- He would never lay a hand on you, it was against his ninja way

- His eyes started to water and his top lip twitched, clearly upset

- You rolled your eyes and went to go get ice cream with him

——

Neji

- you guys were paired to fight for the finals

- He was stubborn and if you’re a girl.. low key sexist about it

- He thinks he’s being a gentlemen but absolutely obliterating you with ‘facts’

- King of backhanded compliments

- But what he doesn’t know is you started to train with a really powerful sensei who was travelling through the village and offered to help you

- Throughout the whole month training time he was focusing on his fighting, but you were on the back of his mind

- He knew he wanted to win, but he also knew he didn’t want to hurt you either nor ruin your relationship

- So he spent a lot of late nights trying to figure out ways he could knock you out as quick and painless as possible

- This was all internally and completely private to him, he never expressed any weakness on the outside

- He was pretty confident in himself

- When the fight began and he realized.. you were actually catching him off guard he was perplexed

“I don’t-… how?” He coughed up blood, knees weak as he swayed to try and stay up right. You frowned, he hated that.

“I’m not weak Neji, don’t underestimate your opponent. You don’t know me,” Those words were said in order to hurt him, he had ruined your patience with his opinion of you.

“I.. thought I did,” he pondered, eyes lost.

- you gave the final blow to him and he was carried away to infirmary

- When he awoke he stared up at the ceiling for a long time after, feeling his wounds and thinking he deserved the pain for how much he took your abilities unseriously

- He vowed to never make you feel inferior to him and started to rekindle your friendship in hopes he didn’t ruin his chance

——

[unequivocallyreid]

Why Didn’t You Tell Me?

it has been SO long... i was suffering from serious writers block but it think i'm finally out of it :)

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

summary: Spencer Reid used to be your best friend, but things changed. How long can you pretend that you don't love him before it ruins you?

warnings: angst! (with a happy ending), smut (unprotected piv), character loss, mention of Maeve, very sad Spencer, mental health struggles, drinking/bar scene, light choking, fighting, slight praise kink

wc: 8.8k 🤗

i’m very proud of this one! i hope you love it!

Every morning when you wake up, you feel a familiar and creeping sort of dread in the pit of your stomach.

Don’t get the wrong idea; you love your job. You love helping people and stopping horrible people from ruining any more lives, but the creeping feeling and desire to get out is always in the corner of your mind. Anyone working in this field would tell you that. There’s no absolute separation between you and the victims and their families. You take all of them home with you, and you just have to learn how to deal with that and not let it eat at you.

It doesn’t help that it’s an isolating job as well. The last time you were in a serious relationship was in college. Now, every date you have ends in disappointment. Not only do you lack interest in most of the men and women, but it couldn’t go anywhere even if you did. 75% of your time is spent in the office, on a jet, or hundreds of miles away from your home.

All of this contributes to the feeling, but the worst part of your job is Dr. Spencer Reid.

He’s secretive and dismissive and just about the most attractive person you’d ever seen. You honestly don’t know what is worse: his constant physical presence in your life or the fact that you can’t stop thinking about him no matter what you do. You’ve tried to get over it; you’ve buried yourself in work, lamented to your friends, and gone out on dates (all with guys that looked vaguely similar), but nothing has worked. All his worst traits grate your nerves and light you up at the same time.

The worst part of it all is that it wasn’t always like this. When you first joined the BAU nearly two years ago, you and Spencer got along well. You were friends, he talked to you about his life, he understood you, and you really severely fell for him. He became your best friend.

Everything changed around six months ago. Spencer started to develop migraines, and as those developed, he started distancing himself from you. He became snippy and closed off, he started hiding things from you, and he stopped talking to you about life outside of Quantico. It was like overnight, you became nothing to him, and you really didn’t understand. Everyone else on the team got the same old Spencer, but you went from his right-hand man to someone he only spoke to when it was necessary.

Maybe he didn’t deserve to be vilified. You know, realistically, he can and should be able to decide who he wants to be close to, but working with a man who unknowingly broke your heart was close to the hardest thing you’d ever done. So, you decided hating him was easier. The real emotions you feel toward him sit somewhere inside you, but they have been covered by manufactured distaste. Addressing the actual feeling would hurt too bad, so you pretend to hate the things you used to love.

Nothing, however, could have prepared you for the last case you worked on: helping Spencer save a girl he met about six months ago, a girl he loved. You tried to stay collected, you said nothing when Spencer assisted when he shouldn’t have, and goddamn, did you do everything in your power to find that girl. Maeve. She was perfect for Spencer, and you saw that immediately. Everyone did. The sight of him sobbing in front of her body is one that will never leave your mind.

Now, two weeks later, no one has heard from Reid. The only indication that he hasn’t abandoned his life altogether is the absence of the gift baskets on his doorstep that Pen leaves daily.

Nearly everyone has been to his apartment, but they are met with a closed door and have yet to receive a response. Everyone but you.

Penelope is the first to bring up your lack of appearance at the end of a long day of paperwork.

“Y/n, please, you just have to try. No one is getting anything from him.”

“I really don’t think my presence would do any good,” you pause for a moment, trying to collect the thoughts running through your head like a freight train. “Me and him haven’t been close in a long time, Pen.”

Before you can continue, she cuts in, “Everyone has tried, Y/n. Hell, I’ve even considered tracking down Gideon, and I really, really do not want to do that.”

She pauses for a moment before looking up at you with a pout on her face, “Please, Y/n, for me. I can’t bear the thought of him in there all alone, just wasting away in grief.”

For someone who claims not to be a profiler, Penelope knew exactly what to say to get you to agree. She’s the only person in your life who you told about how you felt, though you’re sure everyone else (aside from Spencer) knew: you’re shit at keeping secrets.

“Okay, okay, I’ll try.”

She nearly bursts with excitement, “Thank God-“

You cut her off before she can finish, “But I’m telling you, I’m not the person he wants to hear from right now. Don’t get your hopes up.”

“Yes, yes. I just want him to know we all want him to be okay.”

Before you can hurry out of the office to follow Pen’s instructions, she stops you and hands you a basket full of assorted snacks and fruits.

“Make sure he eats!”

The walk up to Spencer’s apartment is a hard one to take. The smell of his building hits you as soon as you step into the lobby. From there, everything rushes back at once. Memories of nights you spent watching reruns of Doctor Who or listening to him prattle off about whatever he last read assault you with every step. As you slowly make your way up, you start to question why you agreed to do this in the first place.

You feel a lot toward Reid. More than you should and less than you could. But all that care and feelings that are so close to love aren’t enough to make you forget why you’ve been trying to hate him for so long. He deserted you without an explanation and cut you off without a warning. You spent weeks (three months) crying over him like a love-struck teen. So, as much as you want to hold him and comfort him, you know it’ll hurt you to do so. Penelope sent you, with the whole team’s approval, you’re sure, to try to patch up a broken heart he got loving someone else. There’s a sickness in your gut, but it’s not enough to stop you from rapping your knuckles against his door.

“Spencer? It’s Y/n.”

There’s no response.

“I know you probably don’t want to hear from me right now, but I want to make sure you’re alright. Can you tell me you’re alright?”

Again, nothing.

You know he’s there. Despite your lack of communication, you know Spencer well enough to know that he would never leave his life behind entirely. That being said, your next few attempts at garnering a response are unsuccessful.

You decide to try one final time before just leaving the basket alone on his doorstep and texting Pen it was a bust.

“There’s a lot I don’t know about you now, and I won’t pretend to know what you’re feeling.”

You don’t exactly know where this is headed, but you continue on regardless.

“I know you’re in there, and I know you can hear me, and I know you’re hurting. You shouldn’t- I don’t want you to be alone right now, Spence. You can either unlock your door, or I can pick it, but I’m coming in one way or the other. You know I will.”

You wouldn’t, actually. It’s a last-ditch effort, and it’s met with the same silence you’ve heard on the other side for the past ten minutes. You’re about to turn to head back down the stairs when you hear the very faint sound of a deadbolt turning.

There’s no other sound or movement, and for a moment, you think you might’ve imagined the sound, but you try the handle anyway. It turns, and the door slides open. You take a step in.

“Spencer,” you call out to him.

You don’t see him at first in the mess of his apartment, but when you do, you feel a crack form in your heart.

Beyond the clutter of his entryway, you see his back on the couch. His frame looks smaller than you’ve ever seen it, and you can see his legs curled into his chest. You set down the gift basket by a collection of others on the entry table and walk over to him. Slowly, like you’re trying not to spook a lost dog, you creep in front of him.

His head is down, and his gaze stays trained on his knees.

You reach out your hand and lay it over his. He flinches but doesn’t pull away.

“Spence, I’m so glad you opened the door.”

You didn’t plan out what you would say, but ‘sorry’ feels redundant and useless.

You go on, “I’m here. I- I don’t know what to do or say, and I’m sorry that I don’t. I can get someone else for you. Just tell me what you need, and I’ll do it.”

You wait for him to say he wants Penelope or JJ, but it doesn’t come. Nothing comes. You start to move to get up, figuring you could clean up a bit and try to make him something to eat, then go, but he grasps your arm before you can.

He looks up at you, and his eyes hit you right in the gut. They’re bloodshot and sunken but still beautiful.

“Stay. Please. I just- I need to know I’m not dreaming. I keep thinking I’m dreaming.”

His voice is croaky from disuse and breaks at the end, but it’s so heartbreakingly earnest that you feel your breath catch. You move from your crouch and sit beside him on the couch; your hand is still in his.

You stay like that for a long time. His breathing is shakey and uneven, and every so often, his body shakes with what you can only assume are sobs. You stay pressed to his side the whole time, thumb rubbing back and forth over his hand.

Eventually, you speak again, “I’m gonna get you some food, Spence. You should eat.”

He says nothing back, but he does loosen his grip. You push yourself up from the coach with a promise you’ll be as fast as possible.

His kitchen is nearly empty, and you hope he’s been eating from the baskets. Still, you find enough to make noodles and butter, and you figure the carbs should help his energy some.

You return with the bowl. Spencer hasn’t moved, but his head follows you as you walk back over to him.

“It’s not fine dining.”

He studied you for a second, and you catch a glimpse of the old him in his eye.

“You did the same thing when I was sick on a case a year ago.”

You smile at his recollection.

“It helped you then.”

The rest of the night is spent mostly in silence. Occasionally, you tell him something to try to remind him that you’re there and that you won’t leave as long as he wants you there. Eventually, you get up from the couch again.

“Spencer, it’s too late to still be awake.”

He nods and still says nothing, but he is far more receptive than before. You reach your hand out to him to help him up from the couch, and he takes it.

He leads you to his room at a slow pace. His head stays down as you both take a seat on his bed, hands still interlocked. Being in his bedroom is odd for you. You’ve been to his apartment quite a few times before he disappeared from your life, but you never breached this space. It’s all very him. Almost surprisingly cozy, with books scattered around nearly everywhere there’s space.

You take in the moment for a beat before saying, “I’m gonna head home, Spencer, but please call me if you need anything at all. I’ll come back tomorrow.”

This makes his head snap up, and his eyes lock with yours.

“Please stay.”

That’s all he says, but every part of him is pleading with you. It’s not a good idea, and you know it. You’re the only person he’s seen in days, you aren’t close anymore, and you don’t particularly want to sleep on a couch tonight.

“Spencer, I don’t want to sleep in your living room tonight. I’ll come back.”

He pauses for a moment, “You can stay here with me. I don’t want to be alone.”

Your heart cracks again. There was a time when this was all you wanted. It’s still, deep down, all you want, just not like this. You know he doesn’t really want you there and he’s not himself. But you aren’t strong enough to say no, so you don’t.

He gets you clothes to wear, and you change in his bathroom. You come out and find him in his bed, laying with his back to you. You have no fucking idea what you’re doing, but you get into bed next to him anyways. There are a thousand thoughts racing through your head, but the prevailing one is how badly you want to touch him, to hold him, to make him forget, just for the night. You stay still, though, confined to the edge of the bed and start to count to drown out the noise.

Though, you can’t drown out his voice, saying, “Can- Could you hold me? I think that everything feels better when you touch me.”

Another crack. By the end of this, you know Spencer Reid is going to break your heart all over again.

~

When you wake up the next morning, Spencer is still asleep. You sneak out of his room and call Hotch. When he answers, you tell him Spencer has let you in, and you ask for time off to try to help. You can tell from his voice that he doesn’t think it’s a good idea, but he grants you it anyway.

Much of your day is spent like the night before. You stay next to Spencer, and you cook for him after leaving to pick up clothes and groceries. Then, you get him to shower and wash his hair. He sleeps with his head in your lap, and you feel like a fucking idiot at first, but as long as it’s helping him in some way, you let it happen.

That’s the thing: you don’t really know how to help him. You know he isn’t the type to talk about something until he is entirely ready, so all you can do is add something domestic and bright to his life while he grieves. It’s all you can think about in the moments of silence. Hell, you even read to him to try and get your mind off of it, but it barely helps.

The night is the same. You change in different rooms and slip into his bed at different times. You feel dirty for imagining what it would be like if the circumstances were different: if he wanted you like you have wanted him for the past two years. You hold him against you, and you pray for sign that you should be there.

The sign comes the following morning when Derek calls you.

“Y/n…”

You can hear his teasing tone over the phone.

“Hi, Derek.”

“What are you doing, mamas?”

You sigh, “What do you mean?”

You’re playing coy. You know he’s wondering why you’re at Spencer’s house, picking up the pieces, but you won’t be the one to bring it up.

“Why’d you ask Hotch for the week off, Y/n?”

Another sigh, “You know why, Derek. I just, I want to help him.”

“I know you do, Y/n, I know.”

He pauses for a moment, and you let the moment fill with silence.

“I know you care about him. We all care about him. But who is taking care of you?”

“I am. I can take care of him, and I can take care of me.”

“I know you can, but I don’t want you to get hurt, Y/n. Don’t let this be something that hurts you.”

“It won’t. I- You have to- Fuck, I’ll be fine. He’s not fine. I don’t care about me or any feelings that may get hurt right now. I’ll be fine.”

There’s another bear of silence, “Okay, Y/n. Just know you’re allowed to tap out.”

You try to think of anything else to say, but nothing comes, so you say your goodbyes.

You won’t need to tap out. You can take care of him and be good to him and ignore the other feelings you have. You can be good.

The call does make you think it’s time to push, to try harder, to help him get better. So, you approach him that day before bed, before he tucks himself into your arms and falls into a fretful sleep.

“Spencer?”

He takes a moment and then responds, “Yes?”

“You have to talk about it. I think that you need to talk about it. It doesn’t have to be to me but to someone.”

He’s quiet for a long time, and your breath is caught in your throat, waiting for him to say anything.

“I- I don’t want to,” his voice cracks while he says it.

“Spence, you can’t come back if you don’t. You can’t move forward if you don’t.”

“Maybe I don’t want to.”

A ringing echos in your ears.

“You don’t mean that. She- she would want you to keep going.”

Wrong thing to say.

“You don’t know anything about what she would want.”

He’s seething now, below the surface, but smoke has started to plume from his ears. Still, you don’t stop.

“Spencer, everyone knows that. No one would want you to put your life on hold.”

He speaks his next line through his teeth, “You don’t know anything, Y/n.”

You’ve never heard him sound so angry.

“Spencer-“

“No, just stop. You don’t know her. You don’t know me half as well as you think you do. You don’t know anything. I don’t even know why you’re here. I don’t want you here. You can't be what I need.”

The ringing in your ears is louder.

“Spencer, please. Just-“

“No!” His voice is raised now, bordering on a yell, “I don’t want you here. I want you out, Y/n.”

This has to be what shell shock feels like. The ringing, the tingle in your limbs, and the heat in your face. You don’t know how you are moving, but you are.

His voice is echoing in your head, or maybe he’s still talking, but you can’t tell either way. The only thing you can focus on is how Spencer sounded like he hates you and that Morgan was right about the hurt.

~

You spend the next day trying desperately to shut down the noise in your head. It doesn’t work. The day after is the same. And the days following that. You ignore calls when they come, you ignore the texts, but you can’t stop looking at your phone for a message from the man who fills your thoughts.

Spencer doesn’t call, obviously, and you have to sit with a pit in your stomach while you beg yourself to just get the fuck over it. Two years of reckoning with the severity of your love, months of watching him live happily without you, and it’s the three days you spent trying to help him feel incrementally better that floor you.

You feel like a dumb teenage girl with so much love and nothing to do with it. On top of everything, you feel selfish. Spencer lost the love of his life forever, and you’re nursing the worst heartbreak of your life because a boy will never want you and never has. Still, you send out prayers for him over and over. You hope you’ll see him in the BAU again, even if his eyes glaze over you. Hell, even if they look at you with hate the way they did two days ago. You just want him to function. You want him to be good and eventually be happy. You try to go to bed with soothing thoughts, but you end up with a mantra of his name.

You wake to your alarm and dress for work before you realize you aren’t actually supposed to go back yet. You never set a date to return. You wanted to be open as long as Spencer needed you. You’re supposed to be with him. You’re supposed to be helping and not tapping out. But you aren’t.

You have no reason not to return to the bullpen, so you do. You walk in and feel eyes on you. You wait for Morgan to call out to you, but he doesn’t, so you follow the feeling.

Your breath catches in your throat; it’s Spencer. He’s sitting at his desk, paperwork spread out, and he doesn’t look away from your gaze; he just holds it. His face is unreadable, and yours is definitely not, so you look away first. You don’t look up again until you reach Hotch’s office. You knock and hear him call out to come in.

“I’m back if that’s okay.”

He looks up at you, and you want to cry. You know he can read you. He has always been the best at it.

“Are you okay with that, Y/l/n?”

You lock eyes with him, “Yes, sir.”

It’s no use; he knows your tells and you aren’t being honest.

“Alright, conference room in five.”

Whatever he sees in your face, he ignores and takes you at your word, but there’s a warning in his tone. He knows when to let things go and when to push. More than that, though, he knows you’d never let something like this affect your work.

~

The first case back is in Maryland, and the one after is in Austin, and the next is in Philadelphia with The Replicator. The job takes you all over the country, and the cases blend together. You don’t speak to Spencer through all of it. You’re never partnered, never work together, you sit on opposite ends of the jet. You don’t even speak at Strauss’ funeral. It’s radio silent, and everyone notices it, but no one brings it up.

In that time, you allow yourself to slip away slightly. You don’t go out with the team, you see Pen at nearly half frequency, and basically, the only time you speak is on cases. It’s stupid and melodramatic, but you call it healing. Derek tries to reason with you, JJ sticks to you a bit more than usual, and Penelope calls you virtually whenever she can, but their efforts are mostly in vain. This is your way of protecting yourself. You feel like you have to isolate in order to improve, and you know, given time, you will come back to yourself.

Penelope’s insistence that you go to her Day of the Dead celebration breaks your distance.

“Y/n, please come. I know you aren’t going out, but you have to. I know you have people to honor, and I need you there.”

You sigh, “Whose going, Pen?”

“The team, which you are a part of, so you must be there.”

“I don’t think I can do that. I promise you I will celebrate with you. I’ll help you set up, just please don’t make me go.”

Penelope pauses, but the glint in her eye keys you into the fact that she is not interested in giving up.

“We miss you, Y/n. Everyone loves you and misses you. You’ve been living this stupid, isolated life, and it’s time for you to come back. You are not this person. I refuse to believe it. You’re coming, and that’s final.”

Maybe you don’t have the energy to argue, or maybe you know she’s right, but you agree to go.

~

The thought of seeing him makes your heart race, and the clock you keep glancing at makes it worse. Just a few more hours before you're trapped in a confined space (Pen’s beautiful home) with a man you haven’t spoken to in weeks.

You busy yourself with preparing. Lights are hung, food is made, and you make a trip to the store while Pen sets up her remembrance table. When everything is said and done, you can’t help but feel this is the most beautiful thing you’ve been a part of in a long time.

The first knock comes at 7:30 exactly, and it’s Hotch and Rossi. They are followed closely by Blake, then Derek and JJ. By 7:00, the atmosphere is light and loving, and you feel a bit of your anxiety let up as the minutes go by without Reid. But, eventually, the knock comes, of course it does, and you move into a corner as Spencer walks in. You feel a shift in energy, though you doubt it’s palpable for anyone else. Rossi is the first to make his way over to you, and his presence comforts you nearly immediately.

“How you doing, kid?” His voice is soft like he’s speaking to a scared rabbit.

“I’m better,” you say, and it’s about as honest as you can get. As much as you’d like to think he knows nothing about what’s gone on, you’re smarter than that. He’s the best profiler on the team, and he’s always known when someone was off with you. Even so, you are better than you were, even if you aren’t quite good, and you know he believes you.

There’s some idle conversation between you before he asks, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not tonight. I don’t know when, but I will. Eventually, I will.”

It’s good enough for him, and you move on easily, which surprises you.

Right before Pen gathers you all to present your photos, he says, “Sometimes we think we’ve seen the whole picture, but we miss a big part. People do things because they don’t want to be hurt, but those things hurt them more. Just, be open.”

You don’t quite understand what he means, but you hope you will.

Penelope presents the first picture, which shows her parents. JJ honors her sister, Derek, his dad, Hotch Haley, and Rossi, Hernandez; then it’s your turn. You place down a photo of your best friend. You hadn’t talked much about her, but you think of her daily. She passed a few years before you joined the BAU.

“I was lucky to have someone that hurt that much to lose.”

That’s all you say, but it’s enough for you, and it would be enough for her.

Spencer is last. He places down a picture of Tesla and a picture of Maeve. Your heart is heavy for everyone.

The night dwindles from there. Hotch and Rossi say their goodbyes, and Rossi gives you a knowing look as he leaves. You just smile. You stay for a few minutes after, but eventually, you move to leave as well.

You make it down Garcia’s porch before you feel a hand grab your arm. You turn, and it’s Spencer’s face you see.

“Would you- Do you think you could come over? Do you think we could talk?”

~

The feeling you have walking up to Spencer's apartment is similar to what you felt the last time. You’re incredibly anxious, but at least you know you’ll be let in this time.

The drive over was silent. Spencer had taken the metro to Penelope’s, so he rode with you. It wasn’t necessarily awkward. There was just an understanding that the car wasn’t the place to begin your conversation.

Now, as Spencer unlocked his door, it’s one of those rare moments you felt starved for words, and you know it’s because you’re scared you’ll say the wrong thing and face the same reaction that you did the last time you were in his home.

He leads you to his living room and motions for you to sit, and you do. The two of you are on opposite ends of his couch while you wait for him to say something.

His first words are airy and light, “Thank you for letting me talk to you.”

You look at him but remain silent, waiting for him to go on. All you can think about is why he wants to speak to you at all. The last time you spoke, he made it incredibly clear he did not want you in his life or around him at all.

Before you can think about it more and let your anger and sadness build, he speaks again, “I feel really stupid right now. I kind of feel stupid whenever I’m around you recently.”

He pauses momentarily before going on, “I’m so, so sorry, Y/n. About the last time we spoke. I’ve been thinking about it pretty constantly for the past few weeks.”

You open your mouth, unsure of what exactly to say, but you can’t get there before he’s off again.

“I’m not sure how to talk to you anymore. I don’t think I’ve known how to for a long time. I just, I need you to know how sorry I am for speaking to you like that.”

He takes a shakey breath but keeps going, “That wasn’t me, and that isn’t how I feel. I’m just unbelievably sorry, Y/n.”

He stops there, and you work to collect your thoughts.

“I know. A part of me knows, at least, that you didn’t mean it. I just wanted to be there for you, and hearing that made me- I just- I think it made me hate myself for wanting to be there.”

“I’m so sorry. I’m unbelievably sorry.”

“You didn’t talk to me for months, Spencer. I just don’t understand. I don’t understand why you let me in in the first place. I thought you hated me.”

He’s silent for a long minute.

“I never hated you, Y/n. I just stopped knowing how to act around you, and then I met Maeve. I fell so deep into it that I couldn’t talk to anyone about it. I- And I just started to feel like you didn’t want me to speak to you, so I didn’t. But, when you came here, after everything, I guess I just felt like you were the only person who would get it. You never, no one on the team ever treated me or talked to me how you did. I just wanted that.”

Tears had begun to well in your eyes now. A part of you gets what he means, at least about letting you in, but the other part is so confused as to why he stopped being comfortable around you.

“I don’t understand, Spencer. Why did you stop knowing how to be around me?”

There’s desperation in your voice that makes you sound like a stranger to yourself. Maybe you’re a stranger to everyone right now.

“I uh, I don’t really know.”

“That's not fair, Spence.”

You’re crying now. Just a little bit, but you can feel the wetness on your cheeks. You can see that you are by the look on his face. He looks broken, and you know it's a reflection of your own image.

You wipe your face, “Thank you for apologizing, Spencer. I just, there are parts of this all that I don’t understand, and if you can't explain them to me, I don’t think I ever will.”

“Y/n-,” he calls out your name like a prayer.

“It’s okay, Spence. You don’t have to say anything more. We talked, and things will go back to how they were eventually.”

“I’m so sorry, Y/n.”

You smile sadly as you get up to leave.

“I am, too, for what it's worth. For whatever I did to make things change in the first place.”

You leave it at that, and it takes everything in you not to look back as you leave his apartment.

~

Things do get easier after that. Not completely. You still love him, and it hurts, but it helps to know he doesn’t hate you. He talks to you some, cordial things, and you do the same. You're sure your teammates still sense something is off, but this works for you. Right now, it works. Getting over him, not loving him anymore, is going to take work, but eventually, you know that you won’t hurt anymore.

Shortly after you and him talked, you started going back out with your friends. Spencer joined periodically, but that was normal. Bars were never really his scene.

Tonight, everyone gathers at your local pub. Your last case was particularly grueling, and you all need a way to blow off some steam. It's fun, and you feel good, even with Spencer sitting across from you. You feel proud of yourself for getting to this point.

JJ and Penelope feed you drinks to try and get you to dance, and you let them. Tonight feels as good of a night as any to ‘get back out there’ as Pen says. So, you do. You dance with them, and you ward off the other cops and agents around you who try to pull you away from your group. You aren’t interested in that. Right now, you're just having an appropriate amount of fun for a woman 15 feet from her boss.

Time goes by quickly, and by the time you get back to the table, you, Derek, Penelope, and JJ remain. He tells you that Hotch, Rossi, Reid, and Alex left a few minutes before. The conversation between you flows for a while, up until the drinks loosen Penelope up enough to bring up what you were pretty sure the team designated a no-no topic.

“Y/n, you have to talk about it.”

You’re still laughing as something Derek said when you reply, “What?”

“You know what. You and Boy-Genius. What on Earth happened? You went from ice-cold to semi-friendly. None of us saw it coming.”

“Babygirl-,” Derek tries to stop her, but you cut him off.

“No, it’s okay. I have to talk about it at some point, and I think right now is the only time I’ll be tipsy enough to let you get it out of me.”

You're still laughing slightly, but the pit that's lived in your stomach for the past few months starts to rear its head.

“After your Day of the Dead party, he asked to talk to me. I went to his place, and he apologized. I don’t really understand what he said or what he meant, but I can’t be sad about him forever.”

Pen perks up a bit at that, “I knew that party would bring good things!”

You giggle a bit at her outburst, but then JJ asks, “What did he say?”

The faces around you all tune in at that. You know they don’t see this as gossip. They care about you both too much to trivialize it like that.

“He just said that he stopped knowing how to act around me, and he didn’t know why, but then he met Maeve, and I guess it didn’t matter so much after that. He was my best friend, and then he was nothing.”

JJ shares a glance with Derek and then speaks, “Oh, Y/n.”

“What?”

After a beat, Derek says, “He didn’t just not know how to act around you.”

Now you're confused, “What do you mean? I talked to him, that's what he said. He didn’t know why. I mean, he knows everything and didn’t know why he didn’t want to be around me anymore. How fucking stupid is that.”

You laugh again, but it does come off as genuine in the slightest.

“Y/n, he probably doesn’t really know why. At least not fully. For someone as smart as he is, the kid can be really stupid.”

“Stop being cryptic.”

Derek sighs but goes on, “Pretty girl, pretty boy was in love with you. Probably still is. He just didn’t think you’d ever feel the same.”

“No. That's not true.”

You look at the others around you, but their faces are serious.

“He loved Maeve. He loves Maeve. That, that doesn’t make any sense.”

It's JJ’s turn to talk now.

“He definitely did love Maeve, no one is denying that, but we all saw how he was around you. His whole relationship with her was safe. He couldn’t be hurt by her rejection every day because he had no way of seeing her. With you, he could.”

Your mind is moving a mile a minute, “Did he tell you guys this?”

Penelope puts her hand over yours and says, “He didn’t have to, love. We all say the way he looked at you and acted around you. The way he talked about you. That boy was head over heels.”

“Guys, I appreciate whatever you’re trying to do, but this isn’t real. Spencer doesn’t- this is not real.”

“Y/n, pause. Think about the way he acted around you, the things he said. Think about how Reid is.”

You hear what Derek said, but it all sounds faint like someone stuffed your ears with cotton while you weren't paying attention. All you can focus on are the different scenes running through your head, the scenes of your life with Spencer in it. How he memorized your coffee order and brought it for you every day, how he never shied away from your touch despite his aversion to contact, how he consistently went out of his way to protect you on the field. At his house after everything, the way he clung to you and wanted to be held. How he said in his own words, “You can't be what I need”; not “you aren’t,” but “you can’t.”

Your whole world is crashing down in this bar, and you can’t do anything to stop it.

“Y/n?”

JJ’s voice snaps you out of your spiral.

“Just go talk to him.”

You nod mutely, and you get up.

~

Everything in the last ten months of your life has led you to the exact spot you were when everything blew up in the first place: Spencer’s door.

This time, you aren't too worried about him not letting you in. If anything, it's the opposite. Him opening this door could open a hundred others, and you don’t quite know if you are ready for any of them. You sit there and sit there and sit there, trying to work up the courage to knock, though you aren’t sure it's there to begin with. Right as you're about to walk away and decide you’ll come back another day, his door swings open.

“Y/n?”

His face is lit up with shock, and you notice his hand that is not on the door is holding his pistol.

“What are you doing here?”

You don’t answer, “Why did you open the door?”

He sets his piece down on the entry table before responding, “I heard footsteps in the hall and saw they stopped here. I was anxious. 50.3% of home invasions happen between 8:00 pm and 7:00 am.” He cuts himself off there, “Y/n, why are you here?”

You didn’t pay attention to anything he said. All you could think about was the way his lips were moving and the way his eyes locked onto yours as he talked.

“Do you love me?”

That is not what you wanted to say.

His lips fall open as he takes in a sharp breath, “What?”

“Or I guess did you love me? Before everything? Because Derek and JJ and Pen, they all said that you loved me, and now I can’t think about anything else, Spencer.”

He doesn’t speak, but you don't really give him a chance to.

“I just, I know I sound crazy right now, but I feel fucking crazy. I keep going over everything in my head, and I have been, for the past year I have been, but now it’s all different. It's all different because they said that you loved me, but you didn’t think I’d feel the same way.”

Here, you do pause, but he still doesn’t say anything, so you go on before you can stop yourself.

“Because if that's true, Spencer, it's just- I did. I do. And if it's not, then please just tell me so I can stop feeling this way.”

He sounds resigned when he says, “Y/n,” and you feel like you know what that means.

“Fuck, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I'm doing this. You don’t have to say anything. Actually, please don’t say anything. I don't think I can hear it. Just pretend I never-”

He cuts off your ramble, “Y/n, stop.”

You draw your eyes from the floor, look up at him, and find something in his gaze you have never seen before. He doesn’t say anything, just stares at you, and it takes everything you have not to look away. His hand raises to cup your jaw, and your skin lights on fire. Before you can process what he’s doing, you feel his lips press against yours, and something clicks. At first, his touch is light, like he’s giving you the chance to pull away. But, when he grasps that you won’t, he presses himself to you harder, and all you can think about is how nothing has ever felt so right.

His lips move against yours, and you don’t know how you're managing to reciprocate because it feels like everything in your body has gone fuzzy. The kiss is by no means long, but it feels like it lasts forever, and by the time he pulls away, you’re breathless.

His forehead stays connected to yours, and he whispers, “I do, Y/n, love you. I have.”

You don’t feel the tears on your cheeks until he’s wiping them away.

“Oh, Y/n.”

“Did you know? That you did? Is that why…”

You trail off, hoping he’ll pick up on what you're asking, and he does.

“I didn’t at first, or I didn’t realize I was falling in love with you until it happened. I got scared, so I ran. I just never thought that you could feel the same or that I was hurting you. I didn’t realize that. I just thought I was doing what was best for us. I felt guilty for being in love with my best friend.”

“And Maeve?”

“I loved Maeve. I’ll always have love for her. I was trying to move on, and I thought I could eventually be with her and be around you without it hurting. I wish I would have told you this before.”

“You’re telling me now. That's enough.”

This time, it's you who pushes your lips to meet his. Your arms snake around his neck, and his fall to your waist. You follow when he pulls you into his apartment and closes the door. There is still pain on both sides, but you can feel it dissipating as you cling to each other. You’re just two broken people who have finally found a way to each other.

This kiss is different, hungrier. Neither of you pulls away for longer than a few seconds as you navigate your way from his entryway to his couch. Every touch is desperate like you're searching for something you never knew existed until now. His hands pull you closer and closer until he's pulling you on top of him, and each of your legs rests on opposite sides of his hips.

Your lips break from his for a moment, “What do you want, Spence?”

His reply is instant, “You.”

From there, things move faster. Your hands unbutton his shirt and push it from his shoulders while he undoes your pants. There are moments of awkwardness that come with exploring another for the first time, but it feels good. His hands trace over your hips and push further until you're left on top of him in only your underwear and bra. He takes you in like you are something to be marveled at, and you know your eyes reflect the same adoration.

You raise yourself off of him and work to get him in the same state of undress as you, and when you position yourself on top of him, you feel his length press against your center. The two thin layers of fabric do little to hinder the intensity as you rock into him. He lets out quiet moans at the action as his lips trace down your neck and over your collarbone.

His breath ghosts over you and makes you shiver when he asks, “Can I touch you?”

“Please.”

His hand moves between the two of you, and his fingers find your clit easily, rubbing circles over the fabric of your panties. You pant his name against his lips at the action. You feel like your whole body is lit up, and under any other circumstance, you'd feel embarrassed at how worked up you are, but you can’t seem to care.

After a few moments, he lifts you up and carries you to his bedroom. From there, he positions you below him on the bed, removing your remaining clothes in the same motion. The new setup lets you grip him, and he feels big in your hand. His fingers resume their previous assault before dipping down into you. You cry out at the feeling of him inside you, slowly pushing in and out, finding a spot that makes your legs start to shake. He’s relentless in his pursuit and all you can muster up the energy to say is his name.

“You’re so beautiful, Y/n.”

It's somewhere between a whimper and a whisper, but the sound of his voice causes you to clench around his fingers.

He picks up on this, of course he does, and quickens his pace as he coos at you.

“So pretty like this. I’m so lucky.”

You’re embarrassingly close already, so when he moves his thumb over your clit to rub circles as he fucks into you with his fingers, you come undone almost instantly with a warning and cry of his name. He works you through your orgasm, all while whispering praise in your ear. Once you come down from your high, you start to push his boxers down his legs, but he stops you before you can fully.

“We don’t have to do anything more, Y/n. I liked just making you feel good.”

“I want more. I want to feel you if you want that too.”

“Of course I do. I just don’t want you to regret anything.”

“I couldn’t regret this, Spencer. I love you. I want all of you.”

It's the first time you’ve actually said those three words to him, and it feels so fucking good to say.

“I love you, too. God, so much.”

With that, he positions himself back on top of you, running his fingers over your slit gently before gripping himself.

“Do you have a condom?”

“I might somewhere, but I have an IUD, and I’m clean. I can try to find one if you’re more comfortable with that?”

“IUDs have a failure rate of around .05% and are largely considered the most effective form of birth control, so uh, as long as you're okay with it, I am.”

You smile to yourself at his statistic but nod, “I want to feel you, Spencer.”

He returns your smile before rubbing his length over your entrance a few times and slowly pushing himself into you just slightly. He teases you, or maybe himself, for a moment before fully entering you. You push your hips up to meet his, and feeling him in his entirety makes your jaw fall open. He’s big, and you feel unbelievably full.

He waits a moment for you to adjust before he starts to develop a rhythm. His hands are everywhere, but his eyes are focused solely on your face like he doesn’t want to miss a moment of your reaction to him inside of you. To be fair, you are probably putting on a good show. Every movement he makes hits you in exactly the right spot, and you don’t think you could be louder if you tried. You can feel the leg he’s not holding up against his shoulder shake against the bed. Your first orgasm has made way for your second to be incredibly close.

“Spencer, please.”

You’re crying out, desperate for a little more to push you over the edge.

“What do you need, baby?” His voice is tight like he’s not far himself, and it sounds better than anything you’ve ever heard.

“Harder. Please, harder.”

He takes your direction immediately, rubbing circles on your clit with one hand while he thrusts into you with a bruising force. He’s fucking you like he wants you to remember the feeling long after he stops, and you know that you will. Everything about it is overwhelming: his smell, his pace, his eyes. You are covered in him, and he is covered in you.

After a moment, the hand he had on your stomach trails up to grasp lightly at your throat, and you fall into feeling. You can’t warn him that you're about to come before you do. The feeling is white hot. Bigger than your first, and the fact that you're coming on him sends you into overdrive. You can feel his hips falter for a moment, but you're lost in a daze, crying out his name.

He pumps into you a few more times before he follows suit. He pulls out, and you feel stripes of his come paint your cunt and lower stomach as he finishes with a moan of your name.

He falls next to you on the bed, and it takes you both a few moments to collect yourselves and catch your breath.

Once you do, the only thing you can think to say is, “I love you.”

It feels like those are the only words circling around in your head at the moment. Some mixture of his name and that declaration. While you know you each said it before, that your profession was the exigence of the sex you just had, it feels uniquely vulnerable to say now. It’s like the moment you just had together could have changed things or made him realize that he doesn’t actually love you after all.

That shoe doesn’t drop, though. Instead, you hear the three words echoed back to you by a man who, 6 hours ago, you thought would never, ever say them.

You turn to face him, and the love on his face feels like it could knock you out. He’s looking at you and smiling in a way you haven't seen in a long time.

“Will you let me clean you up?”

You know that part of the reason he’s asking has something to do with the likelihood of bacteria growth or something like that, but you think it's mainly that he wants to take care of you. Him wetting a rag and running it over you feels intimate in a different way, in an excruciatingly gentle way. Personal in a way that makes you feel like nothing between you could ever be wrong again, and maybe that's naive to think, but you feel hopeful regardless.

Once he finishes, he takes his space back next to you in the bed. This time, he pulls you into his arms, and it's different than it was all those months ago. This time, you know that he won’t push you away and that you won't hurt yourself by being next to him. This time, you just tuck yourself into him, and you let him whisper sweet nothings into your ear as you begin to drift off. This time, it feels like peace.

~

The following day, you wake up to Spencer still next to you, looking incredibly soft in the early morning light. You search for a moment to find your phone in the piles of clothes and are greeted with a text from Pen.

How did it go????

You smile before turning your phone off and climbing back into bed next to the man you love. It couldn’t have gone better.

-

all done! yay!!!

i hope you guys love it!! i’m not 100% happy with the ending but i’ve been writing this for so long and just needed to be done.

this is my first time writing angst on here and my longest fic, so PLEASE tell me what you think! all (nice) feedback is welcome and i love to hear from you guys!! :)

[bunnis-monsters]

See you again

Male!Yandere!Vampire x Fem!Reader

Bunni’s Monstertober Event

Oct 8th

Oct 7th

Oct 9th

summary: when a rich vampire suspects you are a reincarnation of his lover, you have no choice but to return with him to his manor and become his wife.

warnings: yandere behavior, breeding, dubcon, aphrodisiac venom

a/n: sorry this is so late I’ve had horrible writers block lately ><

Moonlight flickered through the stained glass window, casting a multicolored light across your plump frame.

You almost glowed, looking like an angel sent from above.

He had spotted you across the ballroom an hour ago.

The vampire usually never came to such things, but it was a particularly lonely night for him. About 20 years ago, his human lover died in his arms. A plague had swept across the town she lived, and he hadn’t been there quick enough to turn her before the illness took her life.

He had spent all that time in agony, drifting between thoughts of suicide and loathing, to moments of bliss when he’d remember how much he loved her… and she loved him.

Tonight was the anniversary of her death, and he figured he’d drown his sorrows in the blood of the rich and expensive alcohol.

Instead, he found you.

You were sitting at a table, your elegant gown ill fired on your plump frame. Your breasts were absolutely squished by the tight fabric, and his eyes were drab to your fat belly.

If he hadn’t known any better, he would have thought you were her, his love, his everything. You had the same plump frame, eye color, hair the same texture and style…

God you were gorgeous… his pants tightened as he caught a whiff of your perfume.

The same scent she used to use.

He took in a deep breath before approaching you. Maybe a night of fun could… make him feel just a little bit better.

“Hello, beautiful…”

You didn’t look up, assuming he was talking to someone else. This made him pause for a moment before he walked closer and cleared his throat. “My lady, may I have a word with you?”

When your eyes met his, he nearly teared up. He felt an instant spark, his undead heart soaring. You had to be her, no one else had ever made him feel this way before!

“What is it you’d like to speak about?”

He sat down across from you, smiling. “How about you tell me your name?”

The two of you spent the next hour making idle small talk, with him leading most of it. You were shy and soft spoken, much like you had been in your previous life.

You had borrowed a dress from your cousin to attend this party in hopes of finding a decently wealthy husband, an order given to you by your father. That explained why your gown was ill fitting. The man frowned deeply, his fangs threatening to peek out from his lip.

He would be making sure you wore only the finest of fabrics from now on, each dress and outfit custom made to suit your figure. Gods, he wanted to undress you right now more than anything…

But things like this were a process. He didn’t want to hurt or scare you so badly that you tried to flee, and he would rather you home with him willingly. Scaring you would have to wait until you were reliant on him…

So instead he listened to your woes and leaned forward. As long as he could get close enough to your neck to deliver a bite, he could bring you home with him…

“So your father’s business isn’t doing well, I assume?”

You nodded shyly, playing with a bit of lace on your dress. “That’s why he wants me to marry quickly while he still has his status… he hopes that my future husband will support him financially enough to keep the business afloat.”

“How troublesome, being stuck in the middle of this…”

He reached out to caress your cheek, shivering when he made contact with your soft skin. “Mmm… wouldn’t it be nice to get away from it all?”

You were about to say something, but he spoke over you. “Come with me, my love… perhaps I can do something to help.”

Your eyes lit up. He was dressed well, and people seemed to respect him enough to make way for him while you walked through the crowded ballroom to somewhere private! Maybe he could help your father…

But as he closed the door, something shifted. His eyes that had previously been a rich brown in color suddenly changed to be a startling ruby red.

“Oh, how I have yearned for you…”

He was on you in seconds, pinning you to the wall. You couldn’t even scream before his teeth were sinking into your neck, something thick and warm coursing through your veins.

“My venom will help this be a pleasant experience for you, my princess… gods…”

He shivered in pleasure, his bulge pressing into your thigh as he lapped up your blood. “Fuck, I missed you, I missed you so damn much…”

Tears fell down his face, his lips meeting yours in a feverish kiss. His fangs nipped at your tongue, but he didn’t seem to care. The man needed you more than anything.

He held onto you so tightly that your skin began to bruise. It had been decades since he had seen his lover, and going so long without you had been agony. Every night he lay awake, unable to sleep or even exist in peace without you by his side.

And now that he had you back… he wasn’t going to let you go.

It took only a moment for the aphrodisiac in his venom to kick in. Your body grew hot and weak, your pussy drenched within seconds. When he pulled down the zipper of your stress, you wiggled out of it and willingly clung to him.

“S-so warm… p-please… make it better…”

Your soaked panties against his bulge made him hiss. In his twisted, lovesick mind this proved to him that you were her. You wanted him, you loved him!

“Of course…” he purred, stroking your clit through the wet fabric. “Anything for you, I’d gather the stars and lay them at your feet if it meant you’d be happy, my love…”

Seeing your fat pussy for the first time in years was enough to have him rock hard.

Back before you died, you had always wished for children, but he was too stubborn, not wanting it. When he was ready, it was too late and you were gone.

He had regretted it ever since. How he yearned to see your belly swell with his baby, to fill you up with cum and make you a happy mother…

“My pretty girl…”

He rubbed his tip against your entrance. It was flushed an angry red, desperate to feel your gummy insides. “I love you… I love you so much…”

He pushed in, capturing your lips in a kiss as he fucked into your warm cunt. All he wanted now was to cherish and protect you, to lock you away and make sure no one but him got to even look at his beautiful girl.

They didn’t deserve you, didn’t have the honor of laying their eyes on you. Only he did.

He lost count of how many times he came inside of you. The aphrodisiac in his venom had you crying out and blubbering for more, desperate for his touch. It ands his chest will with bride to watch your belly bulge with his cum.

As he road home in his carriage with your exhausted body in his lap, he couldn’t help but rub your fat belly, a fond look in his eyes.

He was getting a redo, and this time he’d give you everything you wanted, treasure you even more than he had before.

And there was nothing you could do to convince him otherwise. You were his, bound to him by fate. Even if you had no memory of this man… it was no use.

You would be with him until the day you died… if he let you.

want more? I thought about expanding on this and making it more of a thought out story… I’ll do it if you send me a kofi! ><

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