#you didn't sign up for this kind of pain

[supacutiepie]

Do I Look Like Him?~

[thebiballerina]

I mostly concur with the above reblogger, but I wanted to add one thing:

I wouldn't say that anything you do will have zero impact. There are SOME things you can do that will have an impact, if you choose to put your time and energy into this issue. (Which you are not obligated to do, to be clear, unless you have some sort of role or job which implies that sort of responsibility.)

You aren't necessarily helpless. But subscribing to OP's mindset is a really good way to make yourself helpless.

I've seen that mindset, repeatedly. I had that mindset, at one point in time. You know what changed that, more than anything else? Becoming an actual activist.

The activists who hold on to the mindset that a mental health break is selfish? The ones that can't or won't emotionally distance themselves? The ones that don't acknowledge their right to care for themselves because someone, somewhere is suffering worse than them? They don't last, and they don't help.

The good ending for that road is to burn out, and then not be able to help anymore. The bad ending is to fall heavily into compassion fatigue, and then be so desensitized and unable to care that you cause real harm. Or there's the other bad ending, which is that you neglect yourself so thoroughly that you end up hurt, sick, or dead (and maybe hurt others while you are at it). You might even manage to do all three of these things.

If you want to make a real impact on more than a minuscule scale, you not only need to allow yourself mental health breaks (which, yes, sometimes include disengaging completely), you need to accept that they aren't selfish at all. They are sometimes the only way you'll be able to preserve your ability to help. Feeling personally affected by an issue is valid, and sometimes unavoidable, but it doesn't correlate to how much of a difference you make.

Hurting yourself doesn't automatically help others. Many of us have heard metaphor which references the airplane safety instruction to put on your oxygen mask before helping others do so. It's a good metaphor. A suffocating person isn't going to thank you for the valiant gesture of suffocating yourself alongside them, when you had the option to save the both of you.

I believe in sacrifice, in some cases. I believe in acknowledging my privilege. But sacrifice generally implies that you are giving something up to help someone else. If you are just giving something up… it's more suffering in the world, not less.

Do you want to actually help? I bet you there are activism campaigns that would love to have you, in a variety of forms and levels of commitment. Including entirely remote efforts, if you aren't in a position or location to engage in in-person efforts. That goes for any cause, not just this one.

And you'll make a lot more difference in that sphere if you prioritize your impact, instead of your devotion to the issue.

i think anyone who is genuinely worried about their mental health bc of the situation in gaza probably needs to reformat their way of thinking about it. the answer is not to take a “mental health break” where you pretend whats happening in gaza doesnt exist and stop being vocal and refuse to hear people around you who are vocal. the way to do that “mental health break” much more effectively and not selfishly would be to remove yourself from constant streams of idiotic and/or murderously evil people. stop watching tiktok debates. stop reading genocidal reddit comments and news articles from sources you KNOW want palestine dead. stop putting the focus on the murderers and keep your attention on sympathy and love for the murdered, on hope and optimism (even if naive) and activism to do your part in making things better. dont get me wrong the murderers still need to be dealt with but if you as an individual feel like you’re getting too overwhelmed with despair to be helpful, the answer is to shift your focus away from those causing the despair, not to ignore and abandon those who have to actually live through it.

[esyra]

After the hospital bombing, I finally heard back from my grandmother and confirmed that several of my relatives were murdered by Israeli bombing. Seven of them, to be precise. Three are still going, including her. We've been talking constantly ever since.

Asked if it was possible to head south, and was told they did but were also bombed there. So they decided to go back home, in Zeitoun. Their home was bombed and they were pulled out of the rumble, then driven by ambulances to the al-Ahli Arab Hospital. There were people in every corner. Gazans sheltering, sleeping on the floor. Gazans dying on the floor, waiting for beds.

Four were declared dead on arrival, three were in need of surgery and other three were just bandaged. Then, a bomb was dropped in the parking lot that made parts of the ceiling collapse, like Dr. Ghassan Abu Sittah reported in that horrific conference/interview. Those in need of surgery died.

By the way, just in case you didn't know: the Church of Saint Porphyrius, the third oldest in history, bombed by Israel a few days back, was located near the hospital.

When looking for new shelter, they saw schools with signs hanging outside, "We can't take any more families." They met families, sympathetic but already sheltering too many people. They're now staying in an apartment building they found empty. Sleeping in the corner of the living room. If the family comes back, they'll apologize and leave.

Told me she was saving her phone battery for when the bombing stopped, and she had to ask for help to rebuilt the neighborhood. But she doesn't think it's gonna stop anymore. The ones still with her are mute most of the time, like they're saving energy, but she feels lonely and wanted to talk. There's no internet and to connect to WhatsApp, people are buying "a card from the supermarket, there's a password and username." Not sure what she meant. Still, the internet is inconsistent and won't load neither videos or images nor pages, so she doesn't know what's happening on the outside world.

Told her there were a lot of people protesting to stop the genocide, she replied, "The bombings are getting worse by the day." The bombing yesterday was the worst she ever witnessed. The entire neighborhood is infested with the smell of death, of decomposing bodies. Bodies are piling up in the streets and she's not sure if it's because they ran out of places to store them, but most of them are in bags. The smoke of the bombings hide the blue sky—she hasn't seen the clouds for a while.

Asked if I could share their pictures, names and dreams with people and was told, of which I partly agree, "they're not entertainment." If anyone genuinely cared, they would be alive—I'd argue there are people who do care, but I'm not gonna lecture her pain. And they don't deserve to be used to fulfill someone's sick fantasy. Told me to remember what some Israelis do with pictures of dead Palestinians. And I do.

For those of you who are not familiar, many times before settlers got together to celebrate the murder of Palestinians. For one, in 2015, Israeli settlers set a house in Duma, West Bank on fire. An 18-month old baby, Ali Dawbsheh, was burnt alive. Both parents later died of wounds and only a 5-year-old, Ahmad, survived, although severely injured.

Two celebrations of their murder are widely known, one at a wedding and others outside the court in which two were indicted for the terrorist attack. In the wedding, guests stabbed a photo of the toddler, Ali, while others waved guns, knives and Molotov cocktails. Israel's Minister of National Security, Itamar Ben-Gvir, was present.

That's what happens in an apartheid. Palestinians are so abused by authorities that their "innocent civilians" come to accept the brutality as necessary or are desensitized by our suffering. After all, it's been 75 years—get used to it!

So I won't risk the image of my loved ones, in fear they are used in these kinds of depravity. I will say, though, the world lost a young footballer. Lost a female writer and an aspiring ballerina. Lost a kind father, who was also a great cook, and a loving mother that enjoyed sewing and other types of handicraft art. Lost a math teacher and a child that wanted to become one.

People think Israel is testing new weapons on them. There's civilians arriving at the hospital with severe burns, which they thought was from white phosphorus, but apparently the pattern is different from the one caused by white phosphorus. It's widely believed Israel tests weapons in Palestinians.

Jeff Halper, author of War Against the People, a book on Israel's arms and surveillance technology industries, said: "Israel has kept the occupation because it's a laboratory for weapons."

They've ran out of drinkable water and the "aid" Biden sent was only for the South of Gaza and no fuel, for hospitals, was allowed in. Many shelves in the supermarket are empty. She said many are convinced that if they don't die from the bombing, they'll die from starvation or dehydration, or whatever disease will develop from the dirty water they're drinking.

Told me all people do now is pray, cry and die. Told me she hopes West Bank is spared. Told her Israel bombed a mosque in West Bank and dozens of Palestinians in West Bank are being murdered by settlers, so she bided me goodbye.

[mercy-burning]

…I Wonder

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Reader becomes a full-time nanny to three-year-old Benjamin, but what she doesn’t realize is just how hard the job will be— not because of the child, but rather her growing attraction to his father. Category: Mature (18+) Content: adults with age gap, drinking, dry humping, oral sex (both receiving), fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, “little girl” nickname, cum play, praise Word Count: 11k (idk how this keeps happening lol)

MASTERLIST

NOTE: This fic is titled after and loosely inspired by "Pony" by Ashley Monroe. It's not required listening, but obviously I recommend the song. It's been a favorite of mine since I was a teenager obsessed with Dean Winchester, so... that probably explains a lot about why I am the way I am... LMAO anyway, enjoy <3 I had a blast writing this one!!

———

ACT I: If I Had A Baby...

The first job I ever had also happened to be the best job I ever had. I was twenty years old, and I found an ad in the paper searching for a full-time nanny to a little boy. I didn't think anything of it, other than I desperately needed the money and I didn't mind babysitting. A few years out of school with no plans to attend college and no solid idea of what I wanted to do with my life, I wasn't sure if I'd even get hired. I was almost certain that no one would want a college-aged kid with no stable ambitions or previous job experience, but I was desperate. And CPR-certified.

It was a start. A shot in the dark.

By some miracle, Spencer Reid apparently was also desperate enough to be willing to take a chance on me.

He explained over the phone that he was away more than he'd like to be, and even if he tried to work from home, doing FBI work and raising a toddler alone at the same time was nearly impossible. I agreed to an interview, absolutely elated that I had a foot in the door and the bright beacon of hope for some sort of routine. Something to occupy my time and something to care about, to care for.

I was expecting the work to be... not hard, necessarily, but I wasn't naive enough to believe that taking care of a child was a walk in the park. There would surely be tantrums or bouts of "I miss Daddy!" or refusal to eat what I made him for lunch... I knew going into these interviews that I would be signing up for a major responsibility that meant a lot, not only to Spencer but also to his child. I had to prove that I could do my job and do it well. That alone was a challenge, but one I was willing to work with. I was ready for it.

What I wasn't ready for, however, was the betrayal I felt when my brain failed to warn me of the possibility that he was not only a single father, but a hot one.

The second I showed up at his door and he opened the barrier between us, I swear it felt like the sun swallowed me whole and burnt me to a crisp. He smiled brightly and introduced himself, and I was done for.

"You must be Y/N! Hi, I'm Doctor Spencer Reid."

Doctor? So he was smart, then, too. Perfect. The Trifecta of Peak Hotness had been achieved. That instantly made this new job ten-times harder than I anticipated, and I hadn't even started yet.

I wasn't sure I could go through with it at first, but the more we talked, the more I relaxed, and I felt sympathy for him. He was a genuinely kind and loving parent who wanted the best for his son, a three-year-old named Benjamin who loved dinosaurs and airplanes and Cheeto Puffs. I didn't get to meet him that day, since he was with his Aunt JJ (who, the way Spencer told it, was most likely feeding his Cheeto Puff addiction as we spoke), but if the interview went well, I'd get to meet him in the next week.

I mulled over my options and almost decided not to show up for the next interview; to call and tell him I'd changed my mind or something, but it pained me to even imagine the disappointment in his voice had he asked me why. For whatever reason, the vivid image of a toddler pouting and crying to his father because he had to leave, and that no one wanted to care for him burned itself into my soul until I relented and just took the job anyway.

It was fair to at least meet the kid first, right?

Benny was insanely talkative— but not really conversational. Most of the time I tried to keep up, but his mouth was moving a mile a minute, and the conversation always ended up falling flat on my end, so I pretty quickly decided to give up and enthusiastically let him carry it.

He had his father's brains as well. For hours that first meeting, he sat there and read me passages of aircraft encyclopedias, and in between two random sections I politely requested that we move on to dinosaurs (which were infinitely cooler). And then, in that adorable toddler voice that made it impossible to be irritated, he looked up at me with wide eyes and said, "I read all my dinosaur books last week. This week is for airplanes."

Spencer looked like he was going to divert the conversation entirely, perhaps suggest that Benny do something else while we talked some more, but who was I to interrupt the kid's routine and crush his dreams? If I was going to be his nanny, then I was going to have to make him like me. Right?

So, I nodded like I'd never considered it and encouraged him to keep going. To which he did, very happily.

Spencer seemed happy, too. He was always delighted to see Benny when he came home from work, but there was something about the way he relaxed and perked up all the same at my first interactions with his son that twisted my gut. What that man was filled with at the sight of me wasn't just joy, but hope, too, and regardless of where that joy and hope came from, it was an incredibly dangerous thing to notice as a young woman.

It was way too easy to fall into daydream territory. I was alert and attentive when watching Benny, of course, but the second Spencer walked in and completely knocked the wind out of me with that joy and relief radiating from his perfect smile, it was like a screw came loose in my brain and turned me into a feral, horny beast. And then I would return home, alone with my thoughts, and I couldn't divert them from the wild direction they took.

At first it was just your standard wet dream, a girl lusting over the older man she nannied for. It was purely pornographic and provided nothing but short-term relief until I saw him in person again, which frustrated me.

I almost thought about quitting, or saying I was looking into schooling so I could cut down on my hours, but...

That wasn't fair to Benny. He and I had actually formed a pretty stellar routine, if I do say so myself.

And every time I thought about leaving, I couldn't help but think about what I would tell him. Would I even tell him anything at all, or would Spencer just omit me from his life completely and give him an explanation in my place? Who would watch over him after I left? Someone old and mean who made him eat vegetables instead of Cheeto Puffs, and demanded he read to them about dinosaurs instead of airplanes, not giving him the option to develop his curiosity in whatever way he chose? Who would tuck him into bed on the nights his father was late or out of town, and would they sleep on the couch soundly and happily like I did?

I hated even thinking about it.

And then there was the first paycheck.

Truth be told, I hadn't even thought about the money, not after I met the boys and introduced them into my daily routine. I remembered Spencer telling me after my first day alone with Benny that he wouldn't get a paycheck to me until the start of the next month, and I was okay with it. Really, I was just focusing on trying not to drool for the entire conversation, but I digress.

Payment completely slipped my mind.

And then I showed up to do my job, and Benny was nowhere in sight.

"Where's the little guy?" I inquired, looking around and hearing nothing either. "He's usually waiting at the door for me like a dog."

Spencer laughed and concealed something behind his back. "He does really enjoy his nights with you... He's actually staying with JJ and her kids tonight, though. Our schedules opened up and she offered to take him for the night. I was going to call and tell you, but I wanted to give you this, anyway."

He handed me an envelope, folded over but not sealed. I took it with an, "Oh," unsure of what it was until I saw the corner of the check. It felt rude somehow to open it in front of him, but his presence was so overwhelming anyway, especially being alone with him, that I needed something to occupy my hands and my thoughts and just about everything else I had in my possession.

At first, I thought it was a joke. A prank. It was too good to be true; He was just messing with me and would hand me a fifty-dollar bill on my way out for my trouble. Surely, if not that, then it was a mistake.

I didn't know how long I'd stood there, staring at the paper with whatever expression was all over my face, but it must have been too long and too concerning because Spencer sounded worried when he asked, "Is there something wrong?"

I blinked for a moment, then finally had the courage to look him in the eye, my mouth completely dry. "You are not giving me five-thousand dollars right now."

"Well... No, technically, I'm giving you a check for five-thousand dollars. What you do with it and when is completely up to you, but... You deserve it. Y/N, you've been a Godsend, and Benny and I are lucky to have you around. Thank you. Very much."

I didn't even think about it. It was an insanely kind gesture, and I was in such a state of shock and gratitude and mind-numbing attraction to him in that moment that I leapt forward and flung my arms around his neck, tears stinging my eyes.

He hugged me back tightly and laughed, allowing me to cry my thanks into his shoulder as we nearly tumbled into the coffee table.

ACT II: If I Was A Lady...

The months flew by, and before I knew it, it was Benny's fourth birthday.

Spencer and his friends heavily involved me in the planning process, a gesture that surprised me, but that I obviously would never be thankful enough for. It's not like I hadn't ever known a loving family or anything, but they were all so warm and welcoming; it was like I'd been friends with them my whole life. My chest bloomed brightly with every laugh and every hug, and I don't think I could have been any happier. I felt like I belonged there.

It was a day, and night, I would never forget.

Everyone had left, and Benny was fast asleep in his bed. Spencer and I looked down at him with smiles so bright, if they'd actually radiated any light the poor boy would have woken up.

"Ah, the cake coma," I laughed quietly, Spencer guiding me out of the bedroom. I couldn't stop giggling even as we walked—Admittedly, I was a little buzzed on champagne. Still, Spencer laughed with me, and we sat down on the couch. I could tell he was exhausted, but happy.

"I still have to clean all of this up..." It was more of an amused I'll-do-it-tomorrow statement, but I had this drunken simmering need to please him so badly that I shook my head and hit his arm.

"No. That's my job. I'll take care of it, you just take your beautiful ass right to bed, you hear me?"

He raised an eyebrow but laughed at me anyway, clearly amused by my banter. "Maybe I shouldn't have allowed the underage drinking after all..."

"Oh, please. I'm not even drunk, just a little loose. Besides, I'll be twenty-one in a couple of months anyway."

"Mmmm."

I hadn't realized how much closer we'd gotten until just then, when he hummed and looked me over. I could feel his breath on my face, and our limbs were just barely touching. Suddenly it was like my entire body was numb, sizzling everywhere we touched, and the champagne had become a part of my bloodstream. The fizz was all I knew, all I was.

Spencer's eyes found mine, and they didn't look away. They pulled me in slowly. I was powerless to stop it, not that I'd ever want to...

In fact, I very eagerly melted into him the second our lips found each other. My head swam, my fingers started tingling, and I was very aware of every movement we made. I straddled his lap, and he welcomed me with open arms, pulling me flush against him as his tongue darted out swiftly to taste mine.

I couldn't believe it was actually happening. Every few seconds I kept thinking to myself, this feels like a dream... It has to be a dream... Between the pent-up attraction I'd been accumulating for him over the last few months and the alcohol that loosened me up and dissolved any ounce of common sense I possessed, I felt like I was in a different world entirely.

He hardened underneath me and my nerves went nuclear, instinctively forcing my body to roll over his. I ground my hips, aching to feel that sweet friction that I'd only felt once before with another man— so long ago and so unbelievably dull in comparison to the sensations I was feeling in Spencer's lap. I was only barely experienced with sex, but I was experienced enough to know that I didn't have anything to be nervous about; This man would take good care of me. I felt it in my bones.

The thought alone sent my body into overdrive. I whined and rolled my hips relentlessly, wishing I was completely bare and feeling him so deep inside me that his absence would leave me haunted. I wanted to feel him forever. I wanted him to ruin my life and claim me as his own, until there was absolutely nothing left of me.

His hands cradled my head reverently as he continued to kiss me deep and slow, raising his hips up to meet mine and aid in getting me off. The gentle tugs of his fingers through my hair and the warm hums of encouragement he offered to my mouth as I climbed higher and higher towards that precipice of pleasure made me weak. I felt so fragile in his arms, like I was meant to be right there, allowing him to guide me wherever. I would have done anything for him, anything so long as he kept holding me and making me sigh—making me glow.

"Fuck—I'm gonna come," I exclaimed in a broken whisper, breaking apart from his mouth to bury my face in his hair. He brought his hands down to my hips then, groaning as quietly as he could into my neck as he helped me rock back and forth across his lap.

It wasn't an earth-shattering intense orgasm by any means; there wasn't nearly enough stimulation for that. But I was so wet and aroused that even the low, quick and burning pleasure that shot through my core for a few seconds was enough to satisfy me. I wasn't in any position to complain.

That was, of course, until I reached down to touch Spencer's belt, and he pushed me away. Not aggressively, but his hands—which had been so gentle and welcoming just moments before—had gone rigid. Frozen and firm, like he'd just been scared half to death.

He scrambled out from my reach and put so much distance between us that I went cold. My name tumbled from his lips in a regretful sigh, and it stung.

"We can't ever do that again."

"Okay," was all I could manage to say. I was still tingling all over, like my whole body had fallen numb and was now just warming up to the idea of having senses again.

"That was irresponsible. And I'm too old for you."

"M-hm," I agreed absentmindedly.

"You should go home."

"Okay."

"I'll call you a cab."

"Thank you."

I went home that night with a deep twist in my gut that wouldn't go away. The rejection hurt. It scared me, too, wondering if I'd still have a job when I woke up in the morning. Was that the last time I would ever see Spencer? And Benny? Had I really just screwed up the best thing that ever happened to me?

I barely slept. Every time I closed my eyes, I was back on Spencer's couch, getting myself off in his lap and reveling in his embrace. I woke up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, hating myself for being so reckless, and even more so for not regretting it a single bit.

After I was finally able to get a solid couple of hours of sleep, I had a text message from Spencer waiting for me when I woke up.

I sincerely apologize for last night. The job is still yours, but I also understand if you don't want it anymore. Take a few days, whatever time you need, and let me know.

I was relieved, of course, but also deeply curious to know how we would keep things professional after something like that. I guess I was just mostly surprised that he was willing to, considering he seemed pretty rattled by it.

Still, If he was willing to try, then so was I.

I'm sorry, too. I wouldn't give up you and Benjamin for the world. All is well?

He texted back almost immediately; All is well.

It only clicked into place a few months later, once the initial shock of our "escapade" had faded away and we could return to business as normal. Because, really, the truth was we couldn't return to business as normal. We tried, but he never looked me in the eye for longer than a second at a time, he refused to touch me in any way, careful not to even brush my hand as he handed me my monthly check, and his small talk was even more painful than it had been previously.

Still, I continued to be Benny's nanny—and best friend, according to Auntie Penelope, much to her dismay. I still loved that kid more than anything in the world, and I still, unfortunately, wanted his father to kiss me again.

I was willing to let it all go, though, to admit that it was a silly stupid crush that could never come to anything and just deal with it like an adult, and then I had to overhear the motherfucker when he came home one night. I was resting on the couch, about to open my eyes when I heard the door open, but then I heard a voice that wasn't Spencer's. It was his friend, Luke.

Spencer cut him off then. "Quiet, please."

There was shuffling, keys being set down, and then a small laugh as they got closer to me. I didn't move a muscle, focusing only on my breathing. "Right. Don't wake the hot nanny, got it."

"She's right there," Spencer hissed, and I tried not to laugh. My insides flared to life as he added, "And I asked you not to bring that up..."

"Oh, come on, Reid. You have the hots for her; big deal. It's normal."

"So? I'm... I'm technically her boss, and she's far too young for me. It's not right, and you know that."

"Whatever. You do what you think is right, man, but I'm telling you; Ignoring it is only going to make you more stressed."

Spencer mumbled something incoherent, and the two shuffled off into the kitchen for God-knows-what. All I could think about was that he wanted me. It was probably killing him just as badly as it was killing me not to give into each other again. My mind was racing, my heart beat violently in my chest, and I knew then that I had to pretend to wake up or else I'd sit there and burst into flames.

I had to leave. I had to do something; What, I didn't know, but this revelation had me reeling and feeling a myriad of things, and I needed to sit with them, preferably alone so I wasn't tempted to just jump him on the spot.

"Did we wake you? I'm sorry." Spencer's kind voice warmed me from the inside out as I shuffled into the kitchen to say goodbye.

I quickly gathered my things and avoided his gaze. "Oh. No, you didn't. If you're back for the night though, I'm gonna go home. I'm exhausted."

"Little guy was that rambunctious, huh?" Luke joked.

I smiled and gave him a wink. "Oh, no. He was an absolute angel, as always. His daddy raised him well. Goodnight. See you tomorrow, Doctor Reid?"

He cleared his throat, rasping out, "Yes, tomorrow. Goodnight."

"Night."

I tried not to run mischievously out the door, willing my legs to be normal. But the second there was a tangible barrier between us, I bolted to my car, high on adrenaline and unable to wipe the smile from my face; I was wide awake.

Eventually, though, I realized it would be absolutely stupid to do anything about it. Did it boost my ego and my mood? Absolutely. It also softened the blow of his avoidance and his initial rejection that night; All of his behavior made much more sense. Sure, I was a little disappointed that he wouldn't entertain our mutual desire, but as long as it was there... It couldn't be that bad, right?

Wrong.

I'd gotten a text from him earlier in the day, asking if I could come over last minute to watch Benny. I wasn't going to say no, obviously, but when I got there to see him dressed up, I shot up an eyebrow.

"A little fancy for work, yeah?" I told him, hanging my keys up and listening for Benny.

"Oh, I'm... not going to work, actually. I, uh... I have a date."

I froze. I panicked. I didn't know what to do, what to think, or how to react. Naturally my thoughts immediately jumped to the worst-case scenario—visions of Spencer sleeping with another woman, someone older and not a nanny. Someone who was distinguished and well-read and smart, someone like himself. Someone who was more inherently right for him. It... made me sad.

Admittedly, I felt stupid even thinking that way. It wasn't my right to dictate his dating life, no matter how badly I wanted him; I knew what he tasted like, knew how it felt to come undone in his embrace, and yet I wasn't entitled to him solely based on that.

Still. It doesn't mean I had to like it.

"Oh... Um... Good for you," I told him, nodding and turning away in case he tried to profile me. "Have fun."

He said goodbye to Benny a few minutes later, and then gave me a polite, transactional wave on his way out the door. It shut, and it felt like my chest was collapsing.

But I was only able to wallow for a few seconds. Benny tugged on my sleeve and looked up at me quizzically.

"Auntie Y/N, are you sad?"

His sweet face lifted my spirits like it always did, and I didn't have the energy to think about the other emotions that were swimming around in my chest anyway. So I smiled at him and picked him up, shaking my head. "Not anymore, kiddo; I get to hang out with my favorite person!"

We spent all night munching on Cheeto Puffs and building Lego sets, and it was unsurprising to me that by the time I'd finished one, Benny had finished three. Still, our sets combined to make a larger one, and then we were able to give the people names and backstories and adventures.

Either time passed very quickly, or Spencer didn't last very long on his date, because the front door opened and I was surprised he was home before I could put Benny to bed.

"Daddy!" he exclaimed, running and dropping his half-eaten Cheeto Puff in my lap. I laughed and tossed it in the trash can on my way to the door, greeting Spencer, who was hugging his son tightly and making him giggle profusely.

"You're home early," I observed as he set him down.

"Had to make it home before curfew, of course." A joke. He was deflecting. I kind of hated that I felt relief at the insinuation.

"Of course," I agreed.

"So, what did you guys do while I was gone?"

Benny jumped and grabbed his father's hand. "Auntie Y/N and I made a whole Lego village! It has a library!"

"It does?" Spencer asked bending down to his level and positively beaming. The sight made my chest tighten.

"It really does! Do you want to come see?"

"Oh, absolutely. I just have to talk to Auntie Y/N first, and I'll be right in, is that okay?" He nodded and Spencer ruffled his hair. "Okay. Say goodnight."

Benny turned and ran to me then, and I squatted down to hug him. "Goodnight, Auntie Y/N. Thank you for building with me."

"Oh, you're welcome, kiddo. You're an excellent building partner; The best in the business."

He laughed and scampered off to his bedroom, and as I stood up, I felt Spencer's eyes on me. I couldn't decipher what the feeling was on his end, but regardless, it burned a hole through me and made my heart pound in my ears.

"How'd it go?" I asked casually, dusting Cheeto off my jeans. Did you do it just to forget about how much you want me? Did it work?

He shrugged and leaned against the counter with a lazy smile. He almost looked exhausted. "I'd have much rather liked to be at home with my boy and his best friend to tell you the truth."

My heart was racing, and I couldn't help but wonder what he was getting at. Was he fucking with me? Or was he simply telling the honest, innocent truth, while I was letting my lust take the drivers' seat and go searching for some insane imaginary intention to help along my hot-single-father/nanny fantasy?

Suddenly, I was the one who felt exhausted, and Spencer could tell. He shifted and continued talking. "Thank you again for staying with him on such short notice."

"Oh, anytime. It's what I'm here for. In fact, feel free to go on all the bad dates you want."

I don't know why it came out of my mouth, but I was glad that Spencer laughed. Still, I scrambled to get my keys and walked past him to leave, kind of embarrassed by the verbalized impulsive thought regardless.

His hand grabbed my arm gently before I could leave, and my heart caught in my throat. I dared to look up at him and immediately felt that familiar heat return to my core, suddenly very fragile under the weight of his gaze.

He studied me for a moment before he let go of my arm and cleared his throat. "Goodnight."

I couldn't help the feeling that he wanted to tell me something else. He did say he wanted to talk to me before putting Benny to bed, after all... So, what? That was it?

It was stupid, and I should have just told him, "Goodnight," back, but those damned impulsive thoughts kept dancing on my tongue with reckless abandon, and I couldn't stop them from escaping. So, without another thought, I tilted my head and asked him instead, "Was she my age?"

Spencer stared at me, something darkening in his eyes when he responded, "No."

I threw back one of his considering hums, glancing down at his lips before looking him directly in the eye and giving him a firm, "Oh." There were plenty more things I could have told him, none of them appropriate. But I figured I'd already had enough pushing my luck for the night, and reached for the doorknob instead of dragging it out. The night would end like it always did, with a formal, professional farewell.

I was about to finally tell him, "Goodnight," but his hand came down very gently over mine and rendered me silent. Our eyes met once more, and a shiver ran down my spine.

"Even if she had been, she wouldn't have been you."

And then he opened the door for me, and I walked out without another word, my head spinning and my heart threatening to give out on me. He hadn't even kissed me, but he might as well have; I was just as breathless.

ACT III: He Is Nice, But He Looks So Mean.

I was actually littered with nerves walking in the door the next time I came over to watch Benny.

I hadn't heard anything from Spencer for a week, until he called and asked me to come over for the night to watch him while he went to work. I was going to do it with no questions asked, obviously, but because that insane confession was echoing in my mind on a continuous loop since it happened, I couldn't even bring myself to think about seeing him again and knowing... I had no idea what reaction my body was going to have to being in his presence again.

It scared me, but also deeply excited me.

Once my body had enough courage to step through the doorway, my heart rate sped up exponentially, and then upon seeing what was in front of me, it stuttered with a terrifying halt.

Warmth flooded my veins and brought a smile to my face when the four-year-old boy I nannied for and loved more than anything threw his hands in the air and yelled at the top of his lungs.

"Happy Birthday!"

He ran up to me and nearly toppled me to the ground, and on instinct, my arms reached out to pick him up as he hugged my neck and listed off the things he did to celebrate.

"Daddy said your birthday was yesterday, but we wanted to give you a party just like you did for my birthday! So we went to the store and got you ingredients for your cake, and we made it just for you!"

"You did?" I exclaimed, setting him down and letting him lead me to the kitchen where the cake was sitting out on the table, clearly homemade by two boys who didn't know the first thing about baking or decorating anything. Spencer was standing across the kitchen table with a proud, albeit I-know-it's-not-much-to-look-at smile, but I barely had time to thank him before Benny told me about the process, step-by-step.

As he went on, I nodded and admired the cake, complimenting the purple and green swirls of frosting (his favorite color and mine, he explained), and the trail of assorted candies in the shape of a stegosaurus in the middle (my favorite dinosaur).

"Do you love it, Auntie Y/N?"

I hugged him again with tears in my eyes. I tried not to actually cry, but the tugging at the back of my throat and the blurring of my eyes was extremely difficult to push away. I realized then, as Spencer watched me with his son and looked like he might have been ready to cry himself, that it wasn't worth trying to hide. I was extremely moved and even happier in that moment than I think I'd ever been. I loved that man and his child more than anything I'd ever known.

So, I blinked hard and let the tears silently descend down my cheeks, kissing the side of Benny's head as I told him, "I love it so much. And I love you so much. Thank you."

I looked up at Spencer and said it again. "Thank you."

He nodded, reaching for the star-shaped candle next to the cake. "You're very welcome. Benny, do you want to help Auntie Y/N light the birthday candle?"

The boy squirmed in my arms and I let him down with a laugh as he excitedly reminded us, "That's my favorite part of birthdays!"

"I apologize if you find an eggshell," Spencer warned a few minutes later, slicing the cake after the song had been sung and the candle had been blown out. He slid my plate over and handed me a fork. "Benny and I did our best to fish them all out, but it's... surprisingly harder than it looks."

As Benny nodded in agreement, I looked down at him and took a forkful of cake. "Oh, I don't have anything to worry about. I'm sure you two are excellent eggshell fishermen."

The four-year-old giggled, but his father sighed as if to say, Don't say I didn't warn you...

To no one's surprise but Spencer's, the cake was delicious. I may have played it up for dramatic effect, putting on a whole show as I chewed and considered every bite, playing as if I was unsure and really critiquing the dessert. I set my fork down and looked at Spencer with squinted eyes, then slowly to his son. The suspense was obviously killing him, his small limbs bouncing with anticipation and a smile that suggested he was going to urge the verdict out of me if I didn't announce it very soon.

I decided to spare him the wait.

"Benjamin Reid... That might just be the best cake I've ever had."

"Really? No eggshells?"

I laughed, reaching to give him a high-five as he beamed up at me with sparkling eyes and a wide-open smile. "Not a single one. You should be very proud of yourself. You and your dad, both."

Benny hugged me again, and I glanced over to Spencer, who was slicing another piece of cake and staring at me with that intense look in his eyes, a satisfied half-smile adorning his face. A rush of heat came surging through my bloodstream like a tidal wave, and I had to look away from him or I was afraid I'd collapse on the spot.

Benny didn't know it, but he was saving my life in that very moment, as the three of us ate cake together. I refused to look at his father. I needed literally anything else to keep me from even glancing his way, and my four-year-old best friend's rambling habits were the perfect focus.

He told me more about his process for decorating the cake, and while I was genuinely a little surprised at how much thought there really could have been with the task, with an ever-moving mind like Benny's, it was actually quite clear by the end of it. It charmed me to no end and filled me with pride to know that I'd had enough of an impact on him to trigger this level of detail and consideration. Again, it's not like I'd never had people who cared about me before, but when it came to the Reids, my heart sang a tune I'd never heard, and it was the most beautiful, brightly vivid sound I'd ever had the pleasure to hear—to feel.

I was thinking too much about it, letting the song swallow me whole as tears stung in the back of my eyes and threatened to fall again, when Spencer's phone buzzed on the table. The sound grounded and intrigued me, even more so when he glanced up at me for a moment, right before directing his words to his son.

"Benny, Uncle Will is outside. Is your bag ready?"

He jumped from his seat and nodded. "In my room."

"Okay. Before you grab it, say goodnight to Auntie Y/N."

I felt the toddler's arms hugging my legs, and turned all my attention to him, refusing once again to look at the man whose eyes I could feel burning me alive with something deeply ravenous, begging to be unfettered. I had a feeling, creeping over my senses like a thick blanket of ivy, that I wasn't making it up and letting my desire for him take the wheel, either; Just as the loving, family-friendly song in my heart had been—bright and vivid—this feeling was just as much the same in its intensity, only echoed with a sound that felt very much like those dark, low hums Spencer always emitted alone in my presence. I felt it all around me and hoped to God that I wasn't about to leave this place feeling like a hopeful, stupid idiot.

"Goodnight, Auntie Y/N. Did you like your birthday?"

"I did, Benny," I answered in earnest, ruffling his hair. "You're very thoughtful and kind. Thank you so much."

"I love you, Auntie Y/N."

I squeezed him tight and made sure he understood every word as truth when I told him, "I love you, too."

ACT IV: When I Grow Up, I Wanna Be Your Girl.

The apartment was quiet when Spencer took Benny outside to meet with Will. I did my best to keep myself busy, cleaning up forks and plates, and wiping down the counter tops while simultaneously ignoring the hammering of my heart against my chest. The organ wouldn't calm down, even as I hummed to myself. It's like those nerves that I had walking through the front door that night never actually went away— only subsided for a little while in favor of wholesome celebration.

Part of me wanted to flee, but I knew it wasn't an option. Not really. I had to at least talk to Spencer and thank him for the effort. Perhaps I was good enough of an actress that I could pretend to have been ignorant of his glances all night, or at least that they didn't affect me like he maybe wanted them to.

Catching myself in the act of overthinking again, I grunted and slammed a glass of water, willing the fresh liquid to wash away any insanity. There was no use going through all the possible scenarios in my head, not when there wasn't much time before Spencer returned. No matter what happened, I wasn't going to be prepared for it.

I certainly wasn't prepared for the way my heart practically leapt out of my chest when he returned, softly opening and closing the door. It took everything I had not to turn around and allow him to see how nervous I was. I kept my back turned, hoping and praying I wasn't visibly shaking as heavily as I felt. I was warm all over.

His presence behind me was dense and ever-present― almost suffocating. I took my time drying off the plates and forks I'd washed while he was away, hearing him rustle around without a word or acknowledgement of me, and then he finally spoke. I almost dropped a fork.

"Why are you doing my dishes, Birthday Girl?"

"My birthday was yesterday..."

He laughed and came up behind me, a gentle hand on my lower back as the other reached around and took the silverware from my grip. I relented, feeling myself numb at his touch and trying to steady my breathing.

"Yes, but we're celebrating today. In my household at least, that means you're not allowed to do any work."

I turned around to face him as he set the fork down on the counter, his other hand still hovering over my back. It returned to his side, disappearing into the pocket of his pants as I crossed my arms and looked up at him. Thankfully, despite the constant whirring of nerves and desire coursing through my entire being, I was able to hold a conversation without hesitation.

"You're not my dad."

Another amused grin. "No, I'm not. But I am your boss. And as your boss, I'm asking you to take the night off and enjoy yourself."

The way he was staring down at me seemingly punctuated his words with a gentle seduction that made me ache with need. I was getting stronger and bolder by the second, leaning forward just enough to be toe-to-toe with him.

"Okay, then, Boss... Tell me, are there any restrictions to enjoying myself in your household? Because..."

The second I heard that familiar hum rumble from his chest, I knew I was in danger― glorious, beautiful danger. His eyes glanced down at my mouth for a second before returning to my own, his body leaning into mine and his free hand reaching out to trap me against the counter.

I tilted my head and brought my fingers up to toy with the tie hanging from his neck. "I am all grown up now, after all..."

"And I suppose you know exactly what you want..."

"Mm-hmm," I drawled, pulling him in closer by the tie. Our lips were barely touching by that point, and I felt my head start to pulse with anticipation as he urged me to go on.

"Well?"

"I want to be yours."

He hummed again, pushing his body to mine and bringing the pocketed hand up to hold the side of my head. "Mmm, Darling, you always have been."

And then he kissed me.

He tasted like sugar, but his intentions were anything but sweet. His mouth devoured mine with a fire that threatened to turn me to ash. Every sense I had was alight, engulfing me in a heat so intense that it was all I was sure to know for the rest of my life. It's all I wanted and all I needed.

I met his intensity with eager hands, exploring the planes of his body as his tongue did wicked things to my own. This time I didn't even need the champagne; I was dizzy on Spencer alone. The fizz boiled me from the inside out and urged my limbs to cling to him like it was my life's purpose. Hell, for all I knew, it was my life's purpose― to burn for him and let him consume me. To revel in his dancing flame and allow it to become my life force. I wanted it more than I'd ever wanted anything.

And I was sure to let him know that, too, refusing to hold back the string of whines and moans that escaped me every now and again. The hand that had been resting on the counter behind me came down to grip and hike up my thigh, our hips colliding just as beautifully this time as they had the last. The memory caused another wanton sound to tumble from my mouth, and Spencer caught it greedily, pulling back for air long enough to squeeze my thigh and sing me a praise of his own.

"God, I love the sounds you make..."

His lips were on mine again before I could respond, but I didn't even need to. Not verbally, anyway; I guided his hand down the side of my face and over my chest, pushing my body into him and feeling his fingers tighten. His kisses grew hungrier, and suddenly I was starving.

I was finally able to break away from his mouth in favor of tasting the skin and stubble along his jaw. Then, I buried my face in his neck and reached for his belt, praying he wouldn't jump away like last time.

Thankfully, he didn't. His grip on both my breast and my thigh tightened again, but he didn't pull away from me. His breath didn't even hitch.

I took that as a good sign and slowly undid his belt. The sound alone was enough to send a jolt of excitement between my thighs, though the visions dancing behind my eyelids of what I planned to do in just a few moments helped my pleasure immensely. I dragged my tongue softly along Spencer's neck before freeing the belt and sinking to the ground alongside it. His hands fell away from my body and chose to root in my hair instead. The gentle tugging at my scalp admittedly made me stumble, but not out of discomfort; I was actually quite surprised at how much I liked the feeling.

Spencer noticed, humming again with amusement as I went back to tugging down his pants. Still, he said nothing, instead watching me intently as I continued my journey.

I didn't hide the desire I felt as I palmed the length of him through his underwear. In fact, I couldn't decide if I wanted to keep my sight leveled or to angle it up at him, because it was a damn good sight either way; The sensual nature of my fingers gently caressing him, knowing what was resting beyond that thin layer of fabric and imagining how it probably felt to him, or the thick and domineering air between his face and mine, his gaze committing every movement I made to wicked memory...

With a sigh, I opted to lean forward, ignoring the sharp bruising on my knees and putting all my focus into the task at large.

Spencer seemed to tell I was thinking too much, gently massaging my scalp and cooing, "Have you ever done this before?"

Yes, but... "Not with anyone I've actually wanted this badly..."

"Mmm, that does make a difference..." he observed. "Whatever it is that you need to be comfortable, Y/N― tell me. Okay? Promise me you won't hurt yourself in any way just to please me."

A surge of heat exploded through me at the intensity of it all. He was sincere, and by the sound of things, sympathetic to my overthinking. It was another show of just how much I wanted him to guide me, to hold me in his comforting, knowing embrace and show me exactly how life should be lived. Every life experience there was to know, I wanted to know it with him.

"I promise," I told him firmly, not breaking eye contact as I tugged at the cotton between us.

His eyes struggled to stay open when I finally gripped his cock, feeling the weight of it in my hand and bringing it to my mouth. I glanced down then, taking in every ridge as it disappeared slowly down the length of my tongue. I reveled in the taste, in the fullness I felt the deeper it went, and once it hit the back of my throat and caused me to choke and pull back, I angled my eyes back up at his face to find the most heavenly sight I'd ever seen.

Spencer watched me all the time. I was no stranger to his intense gazes. But when I looked up at him that time, his mouth open and eyes so deeply darkened with need that they could have drowned me, I truly thought I might have died and entered the afterlife. Perhaps that was dramatic, but there was no other possible way for me to describe the feeling that coursed through me in that moment. Suddenly I was chasing it, longing to be in that state of euphoria forever, and my mouth eagerly went to work in pursuit of it.

I took my time, exploring the ways he could fit in my mouth and the ways my tongue could cover the length of him. I went in search of any pleasure point I could find, occasionally looking up to gauge his reaction and finding nothing but those beautiful, salacious pools of liquid gold.

Eventually, I was brave enough to take him to the back of the throat again, holding him there and seeing how long it would take before I felt the air leave my lungs. I repeated the process a few times, stroking him with my hand in between gasps of air and shivering at the way he tugged my hair. My vision was starting to blur, but I persisted, aching to know what he tasted like as he came undone.

Unfortunately, it wasn't in the cards for me to find out that night.

I whined as he held my head away from him, praying he wasn't backing out.

"Stand up, please," he asked softly. It sounded like he'd been breathless, and maybe he had. The thought that I had that effect on him calmed my nerves and made me dizzy as I stood, and his hands cradled my head once again.

"You are so good," he whispered, kissing me deeply. I melted into him, only for him to pull back and continue his praises. "So beautiful..." Another toe-curling kiss, and then, "So perfect."

My eyes fluttered shut as his mouth moved over my jaw and to my pulse-point. "My good, sweet girl," he murmured, and the words caused me to clench around nothing.

"Please."

The word fell out of me with a whimper and at its urgency, Spencer's mouth attacked my neck with a gentle, hungry bite that sent a shiver down my spine.

"Follow me."

And I did. I always would.

As much as I would have loved the opportunity to look around his bedroom and make banter about what I discovered on any normal day, my brain was so overwhelmed and numb with desire that the thought hadn't even crossed my mind.

Not that I would have had the time to think about it anyway; He was on me the moment my legs touched the edge of the bed, devouring my mouth once more and pulling me into his atmosphere with fervor. Willing myself to get even closer to him, I brought my fingers up to thread through his hair and was rewarded with another gentle tug of my own.

Suddenly I was extremely hot, squirmy and anxious to break free from the confines of clothing, and Spencer could tell.

He broke apart with a laugh, bringing a hand down to trace the collar of my shirt. "Have you no patience?"

"You're the one sucking my face like it's the end of the fucking world," I breathed when he shifted the collar and exposed more of my skin to the air, earning me another low grumble of a laugh.

"You're not complaining are you?"

"God, no."

"Mmm, good," he hummed into my cheek, reaching down and tugging my shirt over my head. The fabric caught on his nose for a second, bringing a laugh to the surface of my tongue before he swallowed it with another kiss and tossed the shirt to the ground.

Warm, nimble fingers spanned my bare stomach and thoroughly explored the surface area of me, up and up until they slipped under the backside of my bra.

"Is this okay?"

I pushed myself into him and nipped at his bottom lip. "Yes, Doctor."

Goosebumps littered my arms as he deftly unhooked the bra and slid it off my body, and I barely had time to take a breath before he was kissing me again, pawing at my chest and slipping me his eager tongue. My senses were on overload, that hot pang of need pulsating between my legs as I then fell backwards, letting him lay me down and settle himself between them. His kisses traveled lower, tongue darting out to flick over my peaked nipple, and I involuntarily arched up into him.

No one had ever paid this much careful attention to my body before—It was always a quick pleasantry to get out of the way before the main course. But the way Spencer held and touched and tasted me felt like a crash course in intimacy. He was still hungry for me, obviously, but he made it feel like it wasn't just about the destination. He savored each and every second of the moment in all its pent-up, beautiful glory.

Which is why, when he finally slipped a hand down the front of my pants, he seemed delighted to find that I was practically soaked through my panties already.

His middle finger pressed firmly at my clothed heat, and I sighed into his mouth.

"Look at what I've done to you... Poor thing. You're just aching to be filled, aren't you?"

My head had no choice but to arch backwards as I moaned into the open air at his words, my legs clamping around his hand. "God, Spencer, please..."

"So I'm not wrong, then?" he mused, teasing me some more and just barely pushing the fabric aside. I squirmed and lifted my hips, trying to guide him in the right place, but he pulled away from me then, leaving me cold.

Only a second later did the heat return; Spencer stood at the foot of the bed and gently helped me scoot to the edge. He removed the rest of my clothes and stared down at my bare figure as he unbuttoned his shirt, debauchery settling in his eyes as they raked over me. With careful consideration, once his shirt was on the floor with the rest of my clothes, he came down and caressed my inner thigh, slowly spreading my legs apart.

"You're so wet and needy, I'm willing to bet you don't even need me to prep you..."

All it took was one lithe finger to prove his theory correct. It slid into me with ease, and I whined out at the contact. One finger swiftly became two, and after a few slow pumps with no resistance, he seemed satisfied. "Mmm, that's what I thought... You've been ready for me for a long time, haven't you?"

"Uh-huh," was all I could manage under the circumstances. Every word and every touch was rendering me incapable of anything more complex.

He removed his fingers from me then, and leaned down to nudge my nose with his own. "How are you feeling?" he asked me in a whisper, fluttering a gentle kiss over my lips as his cock barely teased my entrance. It was such a simple question, but it only deepened the desire I felt for him— It was gentle and attentive and intimate...

"Never better," I responded earnestly.

"Yeah?" he cooed. He pushed into me slowly then, and I gasped at the pressure. "Are you ready to take it?"

"Uh-huh," I stuttered once more, crying out silently when he finally bottomed out and ground his hips in a slow circle against my own.

"Tell me what you want, little girl," he begged sweetly against my lips. "Please, I need to hear you say it."

I gripped his shoulders and pulled back a little to hold his gaze, almost gasping out again at the way his hips pinned me down. It was difficult to form the perfect sentence, but I figured I didn't really need to say much at all― only the whimper-y, pathetic truth, which was, "I want you so bad..."

"As you wish."

The words barely left his lips before he began to move, hooking my legs around his forearms and spreading me apart further. He fucked me deeply, and with a steady pace that knocked the wind from my lungs and already had me seeing stars. That had never happened before.

Spencer could tell, a grin forming on his face as he freed one of his hands and softly traced my jaw. "Better than you thought?"

Absolutely. But there was something about that cocky grin on his face and the lilt in his voice that made me want to be difficult. I struggled to talk through heavy breathing, but I managed to choke out, "Don't... flatter yourself."

I don't quite know what I expected, but it was a bit of a shock to me when he hooked his thumb into my mouth and pressed down gently on my tongue, quickening his pace inside me and making me gasp out again.

"Aw... Are you not enjoying yourself?" he pouted without a single hint of sincerity; He knew I was.

I cried out and involuntarily closed my mouth around his thumb, my insides burning alive at all the sensations coursing through me. My cunt clenched around him, and he cried out himself, laughing softly as he did so. "That's what I thought..."

I wanted to watch him the way he watched me, to study his features and his movements and take it all in with reverence, but he was too fucking good at this. He was so skilled in the art of rendering me senseless, all I could do was lay there and take it. He gave himself to me in the most intimate, soul-crushing way, and I wanted to bask in it forever.

His other hand snaked along the inside of my thigh and held me open for him as he looked down, watching himself fuck me. I barely caught glimpses of his wandering gaze, wondering how he could be so focused when it was taking everything I had to stay cognizant. I blamed it on my lack of experience with good sex, and silently vowed to myself that one day I would return the favor.

Until then, I would lay at Spencer's mercy and take pleasure in the simple fact that he was willing to give me this― to give me a piece of himself that would no doubt ruin any other partner. He was setting the standard and exceeding it simultaneously. He was kind and caring and considerate. He was thorough and thoughtful.

And he was making me come. Hard.

The orgasm hit me out of nowhere, my body stuttering in quick, pulsing flashes of pleasure that got stronger and stronger each second. Spencer fucked me through it with ease, never missing a beat. His thumb slid out from my mouth and down my chin, allowing me to cry out for him all I wanted, which, seemingly was his goal.

"That's my good girl," he breathed, his voice tight. Perhaps he wasn't as put together as I thought. "Let it all out for me... Please..."

Please... God, that word sounded so good falling from his lips. It echoed in my mind as I gave him what he wanted, though not from choice. It was like his movements and his words were designed specifically to draw the sounds from my body. I would have given them to him anyway, but I didn't have to try, and that was the magic of it all. He knew exactly what would keep me mewling through the most intense pleasure of my life, and I was more than happy to allow him the pleasantry.

His orgasm came at the tail-end of mine, and though I was steadily growing tired at the exertion, I found the strength to clench around him again, recalling how he'd reacted before. I reached for his hand and allowed him to lace our fingers together as he came with a loud shuddering sigh.

Finally, I was able to focus, another chill running its course through my nervous system as Spencer pulsated inside me. His movements faltered as he spilled over, filling me so deep that I had no choice but to gasp again. My name sounded heavenly on his tongue as it danced in the air behind curses and sighs, and suddenly I understood why he enjoyed hearing my sounds so much. The warmth that bloomed in my chest as I watched and felt and heard him come undone above me delivered me to the most prideful of feelings.

I watched as his face relaxed, felt as his body eased and fell away from mine, and before I had time to even think of what to say, he was moving, kneeling at the end of the bed and spreading my legs again.

Oh, my God...

I couldn't even tell if I said the expression out loud, but I certainly felt its gravity in my bones, low and reverberating as Spencer inspected his work.

His fingers barely caught what had leaked out, and then his tongue followed suit, licking a gentle hot stripe up the seam of me. My fingers clutched at the comforter underneath me, searching for any sign of stability as my senses started to lose control once more.

"Darling," he praised, kissing the inside of my thigh, "you took me so well..."

I was halfway through telling him, "Thank you," when he started licking at my clit, making me stutter. He took his time, tasting me thoroughly while filling me with his fingers. Between drowning in the residual pleasure of my previous orgasm and also in the sounds he was making below me, it wasn't long before another one approached. It was sharp and quick, making my back arch up off the mattress as Spencer sucked my clit into oblivion.

Rather than incoherent cries of pleasure, the only thing that dared to leave my mouth at the sensation was a very loud, very appropriate, "Fuck!" to the evening air.

The curse tumbled out over and over again as the orgasm rocked through me, and he pulled himself away from me at the end of it with a shit-eating grin. "Such a dirty mouth..."

It took me a few seconds to catch my breath, shivering as he climbed back up on the bed and laid beside me. "You're one to talk, Doctor."

"I guess I'm a poor influence. Sorry."

It was mostly a joke, but I could tell that he believed there was some truth to his words. I did my best to reassure him, not only because he was my boss and I needed to reinstate the idea that we both made the decision to sleep together, not just him, but also because I secretly hoped he wouldn't regret the decision at all— regret me. Selfishly, I wanted to know if he'd consider keeping me around as more than just a nanny. I wanted to know if there was even a slight chance that this wouldn't end in total emotional disaster.

"You have nothing to be sorry for... Nothing..."

Spencer studied me for a moment, something settling in his eyes that I couldn't quite place, but it felt... warm. It was a different warmth than the searing heat that his gazes had radiated before. Perhaps it was wishful, foolish thinking, but I almost imagined it feeling akin to the realization that you were falling in love— the type of warmth that terrified yet excited you all the same, that triggered your nerves and also gave you hope.

It reminded me of that dangerous, beautiful hope that lingered in his smile every time he'd come home from a long day at work to see me and Benny safe and sound in the comfort of his home.

His hand gently brushed mine, I laced our fingers together, and that's when he finally responded.

"Neither do you, you know... I meant what I said. Every word." His fingers tightened in mine, and I felt myself become breathless again. "You're perfect. And I'm lucky to have you."

"You're just saying that because it's my birthday," I joked, trying to keep myself from crying in front of him. I didn't know why that was so important to me, especially considering just a few hours ago I'd decided not to hide the truth from him, no matter how emotional and teary of a truth it was.

Spencer pressed his forehead to mine, sighing my name through a smile. "You are... the best thing that has happened to me since Benny. I was afraid to admit it at the start, but... You're so good to him, and so good to me... I genuinely don't ever want to know what life would be like without you."

I couldn't help it then. My vision was suddenly obscured by tears, and I was blinking them away, letting him capture my lips in a tender kiss that rivaled any other.

I prayed in that very moment that there would be more like them in the future.

CODA: All My Rings Will Be Made of Gold.

Turns out, there had been plenty more, and then some.

It's hard to choose a favorite, though obviously I'm quite biased when it comes to my boys. So, I suppose it's easy for me to recall the night I got engaged as my favorite.

I wasn't nannying for Benny anymore; He was in school during the day (Kindergarten! I cried dropping him off on his first day, and Spencer had to console me with kisses and ice cream), and by that point I'd been moved into the apartment for almost a year.

I was out grocery shopping, and when I came home, there were flowers all over the floor, bright colors scattered in an obvious trail that led to the bedrooms. I didn't quite understand what was happening, but my heart still hammered in my chest, unable to shake that feeling of warmth and hope.

"Boys? What are you up to?" I called, dropping the bags off in the kitchen and following the flowers.

They were both kneeling on the floor of Benny's bedroom, Spencer with an open ring box in his hand, and Benny with a piece of paper in his.

"Will you be my mom?"

Really, how could I have said no? There isn't a world in which I ever would have, but even still. Benny was unable to sit still, waiting for me to answer him, and I remembered the night they presented me with that first birthday cake of many for years to come. He was the same way then, happier than ever to surprise me, and meanwhile all I wanted to do was burst into tears over how much love I was feeling.

Unlike that night, however, I was simply unable to tease him with the anticipation of an answer. I couldn't even pretend to consider it, not for a moment. It was the easiest answer I'd ever given. To this day, it still is.

Benny ran up and hugged me the tightest he ever had before, and Spencer got up from the ground to meet us, slipping a thin gold band on my finger as I repeated the word to him through the tenderest of kisses.

"Yes."

THE END.

[peachsukii]

— emergency contact

it’s been two years since you’ve seen your ex-boyfriend, and didn’t plan on changing that anytime soon. a nasty villain fight lands you in the hospital during an overnight patrol and leaves you unable to tell the doctors who to call in your dazed state.

✮ content. late 20s. ex-boyfriend bakugo, hospitalization, sappy confessions & second chances. distance makes the heart grow fonder kind of deal.

『 #reis softie sundays 』

Sharp, shooting pain down your back and a desperate cry from your partner ⎯ that was the only thing you remember from the last…four hours? Time is becoming illusive at this point, blending together with how fast everything unraveled around you.

Were you injured on patrol? Did that villain slip through your fingers and escape? Where was your partner in all this chaos?

“Doctor, she’s waking up,” you hear in the distance, muffled but clear enough to understand. A nurse walks into your blurred vision, a soft smile on her lips. “Hi hon, you’re in the hospital. We’re taking you to your room now, hang tight.”

All you can manage to do is nod in acknowledgement, the world spinning on its axis and making you extremely dizzy. Your eyes fall closed, a hazy sleep welcoming you in seconds.

When you wake next, you're not quite sure how much time has passed. The room sits in darkness, the only sources of light coming from the moon outside the window and the various machines chirping around you. There's a static in your head, as if you're stuck on a radio frequency that hasn't been adjusted to the correct channel. Even with all the noise in your head, a familiar voice can be heard outside in the hallway, one you'd never mistake for anyone else.

"It's late," a nurse says, presumably trying to convince him to go home. "Are you sure you want to stay? We can try her other contacts again in a few hours."

"M'sure. Do I need'ta sign in or whatever?"

"No, that's alright. I'll notate it on her chart and let the front desk know. I'll be back in a bit and we can talk more about treatment."

The door slides open to prove you're not imagining things ⎯ your ex isn't a manifestation of your delirious state. Bakugo's standing in the dim light of the hallway, tip toeing inside and shutting the door as quietly as possible. When his eyes fall upon your hospital bed, he notices that you're awake and sighs. "Been awhile."

You don't have the energy to do this dance with him, to go back and forth with lightheartedness like old times. "Why are you here?"

His lips press into a straight line, jaw clenched tight as he seems to silently ask himself the same question. He makes his way over to the bed, taking a seat at the edge by your feet. "I'm still one of your emergency contacts in your hero file."

Your eyebrows scrunch together in confusion. There's no way you haven't updated your database profile in two years...right? Bakugo catches onto your confusion and explains before you have a chance to press him further on the matter. "M'the only one who answered."

What time was it, anyways? Your eyes bounce around the room swiftly to find a wall clock. You squint a bit to read it, finally making out the numbers. 4:30...am?

"What did they call you for?" you yawn, rubbing the exhaustion out of your eyes. "I don't even know what happened."

He takes a deep breath as a large hand finds your thigh, resting atop the thin blanket. His touch makes you want to melt into a puddle, memories of your past relationship coming back in waves.

"They didn't tell me much, only that it was life or death. Thankfully, your ass chose life." He shakes his head, a quiet huff escaping him. "Somethin' about a villain's poison quirk. Ya got hit in the spine and it paralyzed you temporarily, an' you fell from someplace high up. Your partner caught ya and the paramedics got to you just in time."

Oh. Well, that explains the pain from earlier.

"But why did you answer their call, Baku⎯" you cut yourself off to correct his name as it leaves your lips. "Katsuki?"

"I'm not heartless, just 'cause we haven't talked in ages doesn't mean I don't care about ya."

You shift in your bed a bit, eyes gravitating toward the window to avoid his gaze. Truth be told, you two ended on decent terms and not maliciously. Wrong place, wrong time...at least, that's what you two chalked it up to. You were both too busy with hero work, too absent from each other's lives to properly be a couple. After a year, you convinced yourself that you were satisfied watching him from afar, catching brief glimpses of his life through interviews and news reports. That was your excuse, a cowardly way to keep him out of reach and prevent you, and him, from getting distracted.

"Hey." Bakugo's fingers squeeze your thigh to recollect your attention, the blanket crumpling under his palm. You're terrified to look at him, knowing full well that in your battered state, you'll crumble like stone if he says anything remotely sweet. Those vermillion eyes of his always had a way of making you weak ⎯ soft. "I was thinkin' on my way over here that I should'a called ya, reached out to keep in touch. M'sorry for not doin' that."

"It's...fine," you stammer out, a shaky hand coming up to wave off his concern. "We don't have to talk about that now."

"I don't wanna only talk to you when you're hurt, or worse..." he trails off, screwing his eyes shut to avoid the dread lingering in his chest. "Look. What m'gettin' at is you scared the shit outta me, and it made me realize that I've got a lot to say after all these years."

Oh boy, you brace yourself for impact, expecting the explosive nature to come pouring out any second. But, it never comes.

Before you could stop him, Bakugo's on his feet and leaning over the bed, arms slung around your shoulders to pull you close. A strange but familiar veil of comfort drapes over you in the moment, pulling on your heartstrings. Your eyes begin to sting when the words he whispers finally reach your ears. "M'done usin' hero work as an excuse to avoid you. I wanna talk this shit out...when you're ready. I'd love to make ya dinner again."

You can't help but let out a breathless laugh, arms finally coming up to return his hug. "Only if you promise to make your special katsudon. I've been craving it for weeks."

He chuckles over your shoulder, squeezing you a bit tighter in response. "Deal."

Who knew that a villain was what you two needed to face your fears, to finally admit that the spark was never smothered into nothingness. And this time, something tells you that you'll both make damn sure it stays ablaze.

happy softie sunday!! I know it's been awhile since I've written one. hope you don't mind some baku-sap :)

✮ network. @pixelcafe-network

✮ tags. @slayfics @maddietries @starieqq

@liluvtojineteyam @jays-adventure3 @simp-plague

@napbatata @Yoyolovesdaiki @kirishimaeijiromyman

@strwbrrykthv @awkwardchick87 @stunies @sakufilm

[deathbxnny]

Can I request angst for arcane characters x reader. Where they argued with each other and then later on reader is hanging on to dear life (READER SAVE ISHA FROM DEATH PLEASE! IM COPING-)

Arcane women with an s/o that dies after an argument. | Vi, Jinx, Caitlyn x Gn!Reader

So I may have taken this idea in a more extreme direction, ahaha... Anyway, thanks for the great request and I hope you'll enjoy!!<3

(I'm sorry in advance-)

Content: Heavy angst, arguments, spoilers for season 2, established romantic relationships, blood, fatal injuries, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns.

((Not proofread))

》VI

Your argument was a petty one. At least in her humble opinion, at least. She warned you not to push her too far, to not bring up Caitlyn when it wasn't needed. But you ofcourse refused to listen, and it ended in a full-blown screaming match she wasn't proud of. You were just looking out for her, scared she'll lose herself under the bright lights of the fighting pit and the flashing bass of the clubs. The alcohol consumption was destroying her, too, and you wanted to get her out of this hellscape.

You were always so kind and patient with her, something she was always so grateful about. So why did she tell you that she hated you? That you were overbearing? That Caitlyn was far better than you ever could be? She didn't know. She really didn't.

And any apology she may have had died on her tongue when you ran out of her dingy little showroom in tears. Oh, how her heart ached at the sound of YOU apologizing for not being good enough. The clarity of what she had done hit her like a truck then, making her finally see what she had become.

The shame made her turn even worse, your warnings and pleas feeling undeserving to follow. Days turned into weeks, then months, and she eventually forgot all about everyone... except for you. The image of your brokenhearted figure haunts her at every moment. Especially her dreams.

So when Jinx came to her for help, she saw it as a sign. She needed to apologize and get you back. She was desperate for it. She couldn't take it any longer without you. But alas... karma was an odd thing. Instead of hitting her like she wished, she found you being the victim of it instead. Whatever God was out there must've hated her terribly.

You were fighting with the Enforcers during the invasion of the Noxians and the Herald. Battle was never your strong suit, but you were never the type to back down from anything. Especially not when it came to the defense of your home. You had the option to leave. In fact, Caitlyn was the one to give you it. Yet, instead, you grabbed a uniform and headed to the Frontlines at her side. You were always so loyal, so goddamned good.

It was, therefore, not surprising that you threw yourself over Vi when she was being shot at. You had only briefly seen each other before it was time to move, and you gave her a welcoming, weak smile that made her heart hammer against her chest. She wasn't deserving of you. "Why... Why the fuck did you do that?!" She yelled over the sound of chaos above her, when she was finally able to get you somewhere safe. Giving her a bloody grin, you flinched a little at the pain in your chest, an arrow protruding from it. The crimson liquid drenched the blue of your uniform and Vi's palm that she desperately pressed against it. But there was no hope. It was over.

The gods wanted you dead.

Placing your hand over hers, you stopped her frantic movements with a chuckle turned cough. "I... I'm sorry-" "-Stop apologizing! I should be the one doing that! I'm the reason this all happened, I... I'm so fucking sorry." Her tears dropped onto your face, and you reached up with the last of your power to wipe them away. You couldn't breathe anymore. Your heart was beginning to fail, and the primal panic set in in the face of death. Intelligible words spilled out of your mouth, not making any sense to anyone but you. You wanted to tell her how much you still loved her.

But with a deep, rattling breathe your suffering was finally over, and your hand dropped to your side limply. Vi could only stare at you in horror, unable to say a word anymore, before she was dragged away by some Enforcers. She tried to fight her way back to you, yet there was no use.

The last thing she saw was your body being covered by debris from the falling ceiling.

》JINX

You and Jinx had gotten into an argument in the Herald's weird compound over Vander's well-being. Whilst she, too, didn't trust Viktor, she ultimately had no other ideas on how to turn him back to normal. And that's all she really wanted. She wanted her father back so badly that she and Vi were both too blinded to see how odd this entire thing really was. And it didn't help that you were worried about Isha's safety too.

Everyone here felt too robotic to be human. They didn't have real emotions or motivations other than what their leader had already preached about. It all felt superficial and lifeless, like they were husks and empty shells of people. But alas, you were the only one who saw it. Everyone basked in the warm sun and heavenly aura, never daring to glance into the darkness around them in fear of what they may see. The people that were "healed" didn't seem really healed. And you wondered if the Herald himself was blinded too.

Either way, it led to a huge argument in which you asked her to get Vander and everyone else rounded up to leave immediately. She was confused at first, but it started to frustrate her how you couldn't understand how much this meant to her. This was the first step to freedom and having her family back. A family she always wanted to have with you. Jinx got a small taste of that with Isha around now and never wanted to lose it again. But you couldn't shake the feeling that something really bad was going to happen if you didn't get out of here now. It ended with you both going your separate ways for the time being, mainly because you refused to argue in front of the poor small girl.

You avoided each other like the plague in the compound, and Jinx ignored you out of pettiness when you tried to reconcile. The safety of the family you've created was also important to you. More than she'll ever understand. But alas, no one could convince the blue haired girl of talking to you again. Not Vi. Not Isha. Even Vander tried his luck by slightly pushing her towards you. She always took everything so personally. So much so that her stubbornness often caused the death of others she cared about.

And just as she thought that she might have finally escaped that fate, the world had to once again prove her wrong.

The Noxians were attacking, wanting to get ahold of Vander, who had gone crazy and aggressive in response. Calming him down was impossible, and fighting off an entire army of trained warriors even harder. Jinx was panicking, trying to look for you and Isha in the dense, chaotic crowd, until she saw the small girl sprint towards the crazed Warwick with her gun in hand. She was quick to understand what she was trying to do and attempted to stop her, but Vi held her back. But the girl wouldn't die today. No, at least that part of her wish would come true, as she wouldn't lose her family today... just you. Her entire world.

You came sprinting out of the masses, practically tossing Isha into safety as you grabbed the gun from her. Aiming it up at Vander, things slowed down around you when your eyes met Jinx's horrified ones. Her screams echoed in your mind whilst you mouthed "I love you" to her and pulled the trigger, hoping that everyone made it out safe in the end.

》CAITLYN

The funerals of the deaths that were caused by Jinx's actions were all cold and grim. All of them evoke deep hatred in Caitlyn, who now stood at her last one, most guests having cleared out by now in grief. Looking back, she wondered when everything went wrong. After careful analysis, she came to the conclusion that your argument sparked most of the events in a way.

You were feeling betrayed by her lack of presence in her relationship ever since she and Vi had a mission to complete. She never let you in on what exactly they were up to, and she now realises that it was wrong of her. Cait could see how you might have thought that she had something with Vi that was never there. Sure, she was a pleasant company, and the only thing she had in very dangerous moments... but it was never more than that. She was a friend and that's it.

You, on the other hand, were her betrothed, the person she swore her life to and wanted to marry in the coming spring. Her mother had always approved of you two and practically pushed her to the next step, especially at how close she was with you. Cassandra had adopted you as your mother in law from day one, to say the least. And yet... she had disappointed her with the way she yelled at you to get a grip. Caitlyn was so stressed and exhausted in that moment that she couldn't think straight and let it out on you. Something she regrets deeply, perhaps even more than never being able to tell you how sorry she was now.

A hand came to rest on her shoulder, her mother’s stern, yet sympathetic expression greeting her. "It's time." She said, confirming the closing of your casket. Yes, this was your funeral. You had thrown yourself on top of her mother once the ceiling came crashing down. She lived with minor injuries whilst you were crushed by the debris. It was all so fast. Your reflexes were impressive as always. And it cost you your life. You were dead. Gone. She still couldn't believe it, even after gazing at your body for hours on end now.

The rage and anger turned into unspeakable hatred, one she could never shake for as long as she lived. She'd get her revenge one way or another. Even if it means to burn the entirety of Zaun down in your name to achieve it. But instead of voicing it, she took a deep breath and nodded. "Very well." She whispered, not trusting her voice anymore. The guilt was eating her alive, and she couldn't help but sway a bit on her feet at how nauseous she felt. You were always so scared of the dark and tight spaces. This was your worst nightmare, and she couldn't stop thinking about how scared you must've been in your last moments. Her mother said that you cried out Caitlyn's name before you stilled.

And so, as the casket's lid began shifting over your cold, stiff body, she stretched herself ever so slightly to catch last glimpses of your slumbering expression.

She may never forgive herself... but she'd make the undercity beg for her forgiveness instead. It was time for justice to prevail at last.

[nightingale-prompts]

Sparing Batboy

First | Previous | Next

"You need to sleep." Bruce put his hand on Dick's shoulder.

Dick ran a hand through his disheveled hair. His eyes were dark from lack of rest.

It had been two days. Two days without a sign of Danny. Not even a glimpse on a street camera or his phone or clothes going missing. He's just gone. Evaporating into thin air.

"I need to find him," Dick said resolutely.

Bruce shook his head and opened his mouth to protest.

"Don't say anything," Dick said through clenched teeth. "You don't get to say anything about what I'm doing. You have done the same thing."

"Dick this is not the time to-"

"I said shut up! If you want to be helpful then go back to looking for him. Otherwise, leave." Dick said before jumping to another rooftop.

Dick knew at the end of the day he knew very little about Danny. He never asked because he knew it clearly hurt him to talk about it. All he needed to know was that Danny needed him. From the moment he first saw that watery smile on that kids face on his face when he invited Danny to eat with him.

Bruce definitely knew by this point that Danny and Batboy were the same. Especially when he asked where his grandson was while they searched. He hadn't said anything else about it. Dick didn't care at this point. I wouldn't change anything.

Part of Dick hated it. He has spent so many years comparing himself to Bruce. Trying not to become him yet still stuck in his shadow. To not repeat his mistakes.

Dick had made his fair share of mistakes and had paid for each one. He had lost so many people either from his own actions or not acting at all.

But what can he do now?

He just wanted to find his son.

He just didn't want to hear what came next. Commissioner Gordon called in with a clue…no it was a message.

A pair of wings splayed to mimic the iconic bat signal on a rooftop. The bloodied wings were severed at the base of the bone.

There were very few villains in Gotham that would do something so violent, fewer that would show off their act so brazenly. This kind of of senseless violence just to anger Batman was the mark of none other than Joker.

Joker had gotten his hands on another member of Dick's family. Flashbacks of Jason and Tim filled his mind.

And something just snapped.

In another part of the city, a certain clown glared at the limp body of the teen.

He had hoped the kid would at least wake up after having his wings cut off but despite his body state he slept soundly. He even had goons try to beat the kid awake but while the blood stayed any injuries disappeared instantly. Metas were a pain in the ass.

In the realm of dreams, Danny was comforted in the arms of the Nocturne. He got to visit his sister and friends in their dreams.

Jazz squeezed the life out of him as she asked him every question she could. Danny tried his best to answer each of them.

"Relax Jazz, I'm fine. I just can't come back. You know how it is. A grand destiny and all that." Danny said.

"But you're still just a kid Danny. You have school and-and-" Jazz said frantically trying to find the words.

"And I'm still going. Clockwork and Nocturne are teaching me everything I need to know until I take the throne." Danny wasn't ready to tell her about his new life.

She didn't need to know that he had a new family. Not when she was what he had to leave behind despite how much it kills him. There wasn't a day he didn't miss her or think of her. Nothing could replace her.

Unaware of this Nocturne and Clockwork watched as Danny dreamed within a dream.

"We should just kill the clown," Nocturne said resolutely as he peered into the material realm.

"You swore not to interfere with the mortals anymore," Clockwork warned.

"I'm not like you, Kronos. I can't sit idly by and watch this happen. I actually care." Nocturne said leveling a glare at the time ghost, his eyes blazing.

"So you care for the boy now? I thought you said you couldn't stand children?" Clockwork smirked his eyebrow raised.

Nocturne huffed shifting the blanket he had laid on Danny to cover him properly.

"I am close to mortals. It is what I am. Children tend to have the most innocent dreams. They have nightmares they don't know how to handle. They are fitful sleepers and cry before they wake. They can't parse dreams from reality. So much care goes into forming their dreams but at the same time, I must scare them. To remind them they should be afraid of the dark. I just can't stand to make them cry and lose those sweet little dreams." Nocturne brushed his clawed hand against Clock's cheek. "I don't understand how you do it. You let them hurt. You know what will happen yet you do nothing."

"It is my purpose. I care but all actions have consequences. I can't weigh the lives of a few for all. I asked you to put the boy to sleep to spare him the pain, at least for now. Had I not, I fear his fate would be darker." Clockwork sighed leaning into Nox's hand.

"Then let's kill that man. I know you want to my love." Nocturne's smiled wickedly eager to return to the living world.

"That is not our role. No, there is another who will come soon." Clockwork said pushing his malicious lover away. "Besides if the boy wakes you know he will undoubtedly cause untold damage. You know how much he hates clowns as is. There will be no coming back from that."

"You say that like it's a bad thing. I would be very proud." Nocturne hummed in delight.

(Am I ever going to run out of bat pics/gifs? Let's hope not.)

(Also gay ghosts dads. You're welcome.)

[heartfullofleeches]

Puppy Hybrid Reader spotting their favorite treats in the claw machine mimic's prize window, but their dumb paws won't let them grip the controller properly to play. (Reader has normal hands, but they wear paw gloves because I make the rules around here).

Hungry and defeated, their cuteness is what wins them their prize.

-

"Biscuits... So close... Didn't have time for breakfast this morning... I need them or...or..."

Thick tears mask your vision as you paw desperately at the glass; claws barely grazing the surface through the heavy wool of your gloves. Curse these mittens. If they weren't so cute on you, you could've had those snacks by now and been on your merry way home. You already had trouble wearing them during your day job- Why does the universe enjoy making you suffer so-

"Please, Mr. Claw machine- Or Ms! Whatever you prefer, I haven't had those snacks since I was a pup. I don't know how you have them, but I need them!"

Cheek pressed firmly against the glass, dim light washes over your miserable form crumbled at the floor of the machine. Your ears detect the shift of plastic as the flap covering the prize door rises simply from the work of an invisible hand. Legs held together, your hairs stand on end as a bone shaped biscuit slides from the open door into your lap.

"Whoa! Am I dreaming?! No way-"

The treat tastes too good for it to all be a figment of your imagination. You snatch it up without a second thought, gobbling it down without a care for any dangers that may arise from eating who knows how old snacks from an abandoned claw machine you found on the side of the road. Tasted fresh enough- As far as your taste buds could tell, there wasn't a thing wrong with it.

"More, please? Uhh, is there some kind of magic word I have to say? I have more money if that's what you want!"

Hugging onto the machine, your tail smacks hopelessly against its side. More treats pile into your lap - far more than you can carry home in your pockets. Your greed catches the better of you; heart unable to saddle the pain of leaving even one of them behind. Scooping as many as you can into your grubby arms, you fail to witness as the sign urging players to deposit their hard earn money into the machine tranforms into a small heart.

[chososdiscordkitten]

Ex-Husband Gojo

artist: yunonoai on twt

Synopsis: Gojo as ur ex-husband trying to win you back („• ᴗ •„)

Pairing: Gojo x Fem!Reader Content: no use of y/n nor mentions of readers appearance, THERES PLOT IN THIS ONE!! Mentions of pregnancy and getting back together again, seducing(?), fingering, spanking ONCE, reader gets folded like a chair, multiple orgasms, cream pie, aftercare(?)

(a.n) underlined text is a link incase u need a picture of the position :>

MDNI

You could never hate Gojo, even if you had been divorced for a year- pretending to barely tolerate him when you saw him. 

But you knew in your marrow- you could never hate him. The only man in your life for the past 7 years, father of your child, and provider of anything you could ask for.

The divorce didn’t even affect Gojo- even as he was signing the papers, he still looked at you like you hung the moon and the stars.

“Give my wife whatever she wants.” he directed his divorce lawyer, earning an exasperated sigh from your lips. 

Everything your own lawyer asked for, he shrugged. 

The house? “Take it.” he scoffed, looking at you with all the love in the world. 

Child support? He didn’t even blink. Satoru offered to give you money every month. As long as you didn’t work and stayed at home to care for his son.

Forget the cars or the cabin in the mountains you would go to in the winter to ski. None of that bothered Satoru. He would give you whatever you requested as long as it made you happy. 

It only made your head pulse- the way the divorce lawyers were looking at you like you were some kind of horrible villain. Divorcing a seemingly loving husband who would give you anything and everything you asked for. 

That was until you asked for sole custody of your child, knowing he barely had time when you were married; how would he find the time as a single father?

“No,” he said sternly, in a deeper tone—now taking this seriously. “50-50, or nothing.” he threatened, a dark aura looming over his figure as you caved. 

You asked for a divorce, not because he never gave you enough— that was never the problem. Gojo loved giving and had more than enough to offer, especially to his wife and child. 

The issue was, two years into marriage, he knocked you up. It wasn’t a problem though. Married, old enough, and stable enough to welcome a child into the world.

Satoru was present a lot more for those 9 months you were growing his child. Ignoring the responsibilities of his demanding job. 

Nine months of pure bliss. Moving into a house, painting your child’s nursery together. Shopping for clothes, going through Satoru’s unbelievably long list of baby names- 90% of which you said ‘no’ to. 

The two years before you were pregnant, you were aware of how demanding Gojo’s job really was. You knew he would be gone more often than he was present. 

And it didn't bother you. If it made Satoru happy and he still returned to you at the end of the day- you didn't mind. 

But during those nine months of growing his child, you thought the rest of your lives together would be the same. You thought he would be present more often than not.

And when you were pushing his big-headed child into the world, it was almost like a switch flipped in Satoru’s mind. As though he looked down to the child that was undeniably his, lily white hair—the same shade as his, and bright blue eyes, just like his father's. Gojo saw the future in the boy he held in his hands. 

Gojo never told you, but that day, he realized he had to work harder, to give you and his son the best lives you could have. 

He distanced himself, making sure to leave as much space between you and his work as he could. This led to you wondering if he just didn’t find you attractive anymore, or if the domestic cookie-cutter life wasn’t enough for him. 

Had he told you the truth- maybe the divorce would have been avoidable. But Satoru saw this divorce settlement as you throwing a fit. 

Deep down, it hurt him. It pained his heart even thinking that you would consider leaving him, but he allowed you to sign those papers. 

It only meant he would have to make you fall in love with him all over again. 

You scoffed at his demand of 50-50 custody, knowing you saw him two nights a week when you were married. Not even being able to fathom how he could handle having your son 50% of the time. 

But Satoru surprised you in that area. Always being on time to pick up his kid from your doorstep, giving you a big hug every time he would see you. Even kissing your forehead when he would leave. 

You didn’t think anything of it- he invested so much of himself in your marriage; it was instinct by now.

But when you’d be at the park with them, watching him hold the little hand of the mini Gojo that looked identical to him. Smiling with a soft warmth, Satoru may have always run out of time- constantly. But it was undeniable that he was a fantastic father. 

When he ran into an acquaintance from work, he still introduced you as his lovely wife. So often that you stopped correcting him, knowing he would only start complaining if you did.

Even if the law saw you as a single mom. Technically, divorced and with a 5-year-old toddler on your hip. 

Satoru still looked at you and saw his wife. Mother of his child, homemaker, and the only person that helped him heal- the person who gave him the privilege of being a father. 

In his eyes, you were still his. Didn’t matter if you were divorced or not; the marriage dynamic was still present between you two.

Of the two of you, Satoru was the one who was least embarrassed about the little slip-ups. Late nights after you put your toddler down to sleep, wine glasses in hand as you recalled memories from married life. 

9 out of 10 times, it always ended with Satoru’s lips crashing into yours, greedily slotting his tongue past your lips as his hands pulled you to straddle his thighs. 

Nights ending with being cuddled up together, undressed and on the bed you didn’t replace when he moved out. And mornings being awakened by the smell of pancakes coming from the kitchen. 

Walking down the stairs with puffy eyes, “Your mama always sleep in this late?” you heard Satoru speak from the kitchen, followed by a little laugh your son chimed.

Nodding your head disapprovingly with a smile, watching your child pull Satoru’s ear to his lips, letting out a small ‘tsk’ at what his child whispered into his ear. 

The sight was always heartwarming, knowing things could’ve been like this all the time if things were different.

And every afternoon, when Satoru would practically be forced out of the house- came the talk of “This can’t happen again. It’s confusing for him-” Only for Satoru to kiss your cheek.

“Won’t happen again.” he would smile, knowing that declaration was a mere tool to end conversations like these. Knowing as long as you allowed it- mornings like these would keep happening. 

There was still a lot- almost too much love, between you and Satoru. You knew this couldn’t continue, branching out and thinking of ways to not be so involved. Being all too aware of the fact that, for the past 7 years, your life has only been your husband and your son. 

Ex-Husband. 

That only proved your point- Satoru slowly started embedding the idea of calling him your husband again, that even in your own mind you still referred to him as such.

You knew it wasn’t the right thing to do. To continue entertaining the potential of getting together again. You considered it at first, if he was such a changed man and all he needed was to be reminded of what he lost to change his ways, would it be so bad to get back together?

But the slip-ups and nights shared together in each other's arms were too good to be true. 

You feared that the same thing would happen if you allowed him fully into your life again. He would show you the best parts of him at first, then go back to neglecting his responsibilities to you and his child. 

So when you asked Gojo to babysit for one evening. Instead of asking you why, he asked his 5-year-old son. Who came running up to him, pulling Satoru's hair to whisper another secret into his ear- barely legible and full of amused giggles: “Mommy has a date.” 

Satoru must’ve heard wrong- it almost sounded like his son said you- his wife, had a date with someone other than him. 

He tried getting more information out of his son, playfully asking who, where, and why. But the little man only scoffed, saying that you only said you had a date, and that’s why Dad had to watch him that evening. 

And on the day of, Satoru showed up at your doorstep looking offensively good. Fresh haircut and his hair half dry, a white t-shirt that was entirely too tight, and gray sweats- with nothing under them (slut). And to top it all off, your favorite cologne spritzed onto his chest. 

You opened your front door- you furrowed your eyebrows in disbelief, eyeing the man before you. You hated when he would purposefully show up on your doorstep looking fucking scrumptious. It was too tempting. 

And as he always does- he pulls you into a rib-crushing hug, ensuring you get a face full of his scent. Kissing the top of your head as you loosely wrapped your arms around his waist. “You look gorgeous,” he murmured against your scalp, pulling away from him and scoffing. 

Walking back into the entryway of your house, hearing him step behind you and close the door- “I thought I told you to come at 7.” you muttered, trying to shake off the invading thoughts of the apparent print in his sweats. 

“I wanted to see you before you left.” Satoru mumbled behind you, following you up the stairs of his house and listening to the TV playing your child’s favorite cartoon. 

You only hummed in response to the excuse as to why he was here a whole 2 hours before you were to leave. 

While you were showering, Gojo sat on the couch supervising his son, who was asking any question that popped into the little man’s mind. Questions the child would ask you, but refuse to think you were telling the truth. So he would ask his Dad, and believe him instead.

You found it frustrating that your child believed Satoru more than he believed you- but endearing that he would always run things by his father.

All the while, answering the little questions his toddler asked- Satoru wondered if you still had that bad habit of leaving the bathroom door unlocked while you showered. 

But Satoru knew he had to take a more subtle approach to the delicate situation at hand. 

As he heard the sound of the shower halting- thanking the noisy plumbing the house had. It always let him know you were stepping out of the shower from wherever he was in the house.

He rose from the couch and grabbed his child from the floor. “Let’s go see what mommy’s doing.” Gojo smiled as he hooked his hands beneath his child's arms, hearing happy laughter from the little human in his hands as he ran up the stairs.

Satoru always liked watching you get dressed, even if it was to go see another man. He enjoyed watching the care you put into your appearance. 

He walked into the humid restroom, his eyes catching the half-way-done zipper of your dress. “Zip me,” you murmured, looking into the mirror as you applied your makeup. 

Satoru placed his child on the ground and walked up behind you, his eyes catching the clasp of your lace undergarment. He furrowed his eyebrows, realizing it was one he hadn't seen before. 

He lightly placed his hand on your hip, his face too close to your shoulder, as his fingers slowly worked up the zipper. Gojo’s thumb caressed your clothed hip, giving you a light squeeze before letting go of the zipper. 

Pressing your thighs together slightly and trying to ignore the warmth of his hand. 

So as he sat on the edge of the bathtub, his child bouncing on his lap, watching you with an adoring gaze, enjoying the angle he had of you slightly bent over the sink. “Where’d you say you were going again?” squinting his eyes as you swiped away any misplaced makeup on your cheek. 

“Out.” you scoffed, knowing if you told him the truth he would only start whining at you. 

So he flashed his eyes to his son, “Do you know?” he whispered, watching his son hold back a laugh as you rolled your eyes. 

As much as you disliked being the bad cop in most parenting scenarios, your child always took his side- always told him the truth when he’d ask.

“Mommy has a date.” he giggled, only for you to look to your side and squint your eyes, “Traitor.” you murmured, watching Satoru’s jaw fall in feigned shock. 

“A date?” he pursed his lips, looking at you sadly. “You asked me to watch my child to go on a date?” his tone was full of sarcasm, watching you nod your head ‘no’ as you looked back into the mirror. 

“It’s just dinner-” you muttered, trying to avoid his harsh gaze on your profile. “Besides, I’m sure you have your fair share of them.” 

Satoru gasped your name, placing his hands on either side of his child’s head and covering his ears.

“You accuse me of cheating in front of our child? I only have room for one woman in my heart.” he scoffed, placing a hand onto his chest- almost as though he found offense in knowing you could- but he never would.

“It’s not cheating, we aren’t married anymore.” 

He pulled his hands from his child’s ears, eye twitching at your declaration. “Who is he?” he asked, tone more severe as his child played with his hands. You sighed, “I have a right to know-” he started- earning for you to look at him with an irritated expression. 

“Just a parent from his school.”

Satoru squinted his eyes. He knew he couldn’t ask you to homeschool his child- ‘socialization’ and all that. But now, Satoru had to worry about you being pawed at while dropping off his son at kindergarten. 

In some attempts to not show he was starting to get pissed off, “If you were into single dads- you have one right here~” Gojo grinned, watching the grimace on your face churn from his attempt at flirting. 

“That’s not it, but thank you for that.” you scoffed, curling your eyelashes and feeling his eyes pierce your skin. 

“So what is it?” he hummed, wanting to know what this man had that he didn’t. 

With a sigh you rolled your eyes, hearing your child slide off his lap and patter out of the bathroom. “I don't wanna talk about this anymore.” you muttered, sensing Satoru rise from the tub's edge and shift behind you, placing his hands around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder. 

“I wanna know who you’re replacin’ me with,” he whined in your ear, causing you to scoff and look down to the sink. 

You were used to Satoru clinging to you- showing his affection to you even if you weren’t together anymore. 

Satoru pressed his hips onto your slightly bent bottom, his lips barely grazing your ear, “If this is about your needs- I’m here for that too, y’know.” he whispered into your ear. Making sure you could feel his print against your bottom as he pressed himself closer to you. 

Your breathing increased slightly, parting your lips as his hands around your waist squeezed you tighter. “You don’t have to look for anyone else-” he whispered, lips pressing onto the shell of your ear as you closed your eyes. 

“I’m here whenever you need me,”

Mentally battling the temptation with every whisper into your ear, his breathing grazing your skin, causing goosebumps to rise to the surface. 

Satoru was about to murmur another temptation into your ear. Until your child's crying voice echoed through the bathroom walls. Rushing out of the bathroom and finding your son on the ground of your bedroom- Tiny droplets of blood oozed from his little knee, with fat tears leaving his blue eyes. 

Satoru wasted no time scooping up the crying child from the ground, hushing him with small assurances that it was okay. 

Though it was only a scrape- it was enough for Satoru to convince you to call up this, ‘Fellow parent from school’ and tell him you had to cancel. Setting no reschedule day as Gojo purposefully called out to you- “Honey, where are the band-aid’s?~” 

And with that, Satoru got what he wanted. Your date was canceled, and the man backed off. 

After too many treats and much-needed coddling from his father, your son dozed off in Gojo’s arms as he walked up the stairs, exhausted from the sobbing. Placing him onto the little race car bed he built- recalling the day Satoru helped you paint the bedroom. 

You settled onto the living room couches and thanked him for being here. “M’sorry if you had any plans.” You sighed, looking at the well-favored man before you. 

Gojo scoffed, “No plans are more important than you.” with a slight smile on his lips. 

“And your son.” you clarified with a warm grin.

Satoru looked down at your hands. “And my son.” He repeated your words, reaching for your hands and holding them in his. Scooching the tiniest bit closer to you, “Thank you,” he muttered, caressing the backs of your hands with his thumbs. 

“For what?” looking at him adoringly. 

Gojo blinked his eyes as he engulfed the sight of your expression. Looking back at him with the same look you had when you were still married. “For bein’ a good mom,” he whispered, slowly inching closer to you. 

“-nd a good wife,” he whispered, watching your eyebrows furrow at the proclamation, cheeks tingling from hearing him call you that. Parting his lips as you leaned in closer to him. 

The corner of his lips curled up ever so slightly, “Why did we ever get divorced, hmm?” he whispered, darting his gaze from your eyes down to your lips. Trying to recall the last time he tasted you- finding it offensive that he couldn’t even remember. 

You gulped slightly, watching his eyes go half-lidded as he leaned closer to you. You blinked your eyes closed- feeling the last of your reservations dissolve in your mind as you pressed your lips against his. 

Satoru’s eyes half-lidded as he watched your eyebrows pinch up- letting go of your hands as he traced his fingertips up your arms. Lightly swiping his tongue against your bottom lip, parting your mouth to grant him entry. 

Your hands making their way to his torso- feeling the thin fabric of his shirt beneath your fingers. Sighing as his tongue pressed against yours, his hands trailing to your back. 

Pulling you closer to him as his fingers reached the zipper of your dress. Soft hums of appeasement rumbling onto his tongue. Tugging down the zipper slowly as your hands found the bottom of his shirt, tracing your hands beneath the fabric.

Your fingers grasping against his carved torso desperately, your thumb lightly caressing his happy trail. His hands slipped past the opening of your dress- sprawling against your back. 

You pulled away- looking into his eyes. His cheeks flushed and lips puffy. “We can’t-” you breathed, hoping he would have the strength to put a halt to this. You swallowed- mouthing another ‘we can't.’ before pressing your lips onto his again. 

Letting a soft moan slip your lips as he pulled the top of your dress down- feeling the light grazes of his fingers against your skin. Placing his hand on your side, sliding up your torso and cupping the underside of your laced breast. 

Feeling a twinge of anger once he felt it was a bralette- only a thin layer of lace separating his hand from your soft skin. Even more when he remembered why you would be wearing this. 

Tracing his thumb over the little peak beneath the lace, giving it a soft swipe. Earning a light hum to leave your lips onto his. 

And to check- just to be sure he wasn’t getting mad over nothing; Satoru pulled his lips from yours. Placing damp kisses onto your cheek. Peppering them down your neck, soft sighs and moans leaving your lips were heard as hymns to Satoru’s ears.

Making sure to pay extra attention to your collarbone, taking a few seconds to suck harshly on the skin. Even if you didn’t wear your wedding ring anymore- this was his way of showing any other men that you were claimed- that you were his. 

His hands shifted your hips to sit correctly on the couch, slumped with your dress bunched on your thighs. Satoru trailed wet kisses to the swell of your breast, lightly pressing his tongue onto your laced nipple and swirling against the fabric, coaxing a light moan to fall from your lips. 

Though your eyes were closed, Satoru's grip on your waist told you that he was furious. Had you opened them, you would have seen his jealous eyes looking back at you. 

Satoru hoped he was wrong- hoped you wouldn’t do this to him. All but praying he wouldn’t have to do what he had to if he was right. 

His hands hooked onto the bunched-up fabric of your dress, shifting it down your thighs and pulling it from your body entirely before he pulled his lips from your tummy. 

Looking down at the matching lace panties- soaked as they were, he had never seen them. Gojo’s eye twitched as he looked back up to you, unwilling to come to the fact that you bought- and wore this for another man. 

Satoru liked thinking he was a patient person, calm and collected when he had to be. But the way he rose himself from the ground, manhandling you to flip over and bend your knees on the couch, made him realize he held no more patience for you nor your attempts to make him jealous.

Your hands held onto the back of the couch firmly, keeping yourself up as Satoru’s hands landed on your hips. Groping the malleable skin as you whimpered, pressing your bottom back to the growing erection in his sweats. 

“You wore this for him?” he mumbled behind you, slipping his thumb beneath the thin band of lace. Exhaling, feeling yourself soak your panties even further. 

You bit your lip, looking down at your hands in shame- knowing whatever you said now would only make him more bitter. 

Murmuring something- quiet enough for Satoru not to comprehend. He huffed a smile, “What was that?” he teased, pressing his bulge against your bent bottom, pushing you further against the wall. 

“Tell the truth.” 

You looked back slightly, peering at the crazed man behind you. Biting your lip and facing the wall, “I did.” 

As a reward for your honesty, Satoru gave you a firm spank against your bottom. Causing you to jolt forward with a soft whimper. 

“You’re that needy?” Gojo teased, caressing the warm skin of your bottom, soothing the sting. “That you have to cheat on me?” you exhaled- not wanting to admit how attractive it was that he was scolding you for something he shouldn’t be. 

Taking his hands from your hips and hooking them onto the sides of your panties, slipping them down your hips to be greeted with your soaked cunt. Glistening with the taste he craved from the minute he moved out. 

But even if his mouth watered looking down to your core, he couldn’t bring himself to kneel before you- knowing if he let things go your way, this little farce of divorce would stay in your mind.

No, he had to teach you a lesson, even if he had to pound it into your foolish brain that you were his. 

So as the tips of his fingers grazed your soaked lips- avoiding the bundle of nerves that he was sure was throbbing from how wet you were. 

Circling the tips of his ring and middle finger on your entrance as you let out breathless whines. “I just missed you,” whimpering as you reached a hand back to the one that held your hip in place. 

The words enticed Gojo to dip the very tips of his fingers into your cunt- “Didn’t wanna tell you.” you moaned, admitting the truth he had been wanting to hear for far too long. 

Closing your eyes as he slowly inched his fingers into you. Satoru smiled, feeling your walls welcome him in, too tight to have been recently fucked. So he knew you must be telling the truth. 

Grasping onto his hand, the tips of his fingers prodding into the spot he quickly found every time. 

Your hand that held you up trembling as he lightly curled his fingers. Letting out breathy moans, earning Satoru to smile to himself, “Who knows how to please you like me, hm?” he let out the thoughts from his lips without permission. 

You whined as he pumped his fingers into you with a slow ease. Whimpering softly as he watched with dim eyes. “Who else but me?” he pressed, feeling your grip against his hand tighten. 

“Need you inside ‘toru-” you whined, the hand holding you up gripping the edge of the couch violently. 

Gojo remembered the last time you called him that- biting his lip from the nickname you used to call him when you were still married. And you must’ve known how his mind reels whenever you called him that- or else why would you say it in that tone? 

All but begging for his cock with every light spasm your cunt did around his fingers. 

Satoru was pleased with how pliant you were in his hands, satisfied enough to pull his fingers from your cunt. Quickly removing his shirt before placing his messied hand over his sweats, softly palming himself as he looked at your core- 

Gojo was so sure at that moment- that there was no god- the closest thing to it was what lied between your legs. Pulsing- begging for him to bully his pained cock into it. 

He pulled his hand from his bulge, shoving down the loose band of his sweats and freeing his cock. And as you suspected- no briefs. 

Placing a hand onto his base and lightly tapping his leaky tip onto your ass, causing you to whine. 

Gojo started thinking about how he wanted you- now that you were compliant and needy before him. 

He backed away in the slightest. Kicking off his sweats before moving you to lie back onto the couch. Settling his hips between your thighs. Soaking up the desperate expression you wore as small whimpers left your lips. 

The tip of his cock sliding up and down your cunt- refusing to give you what you ached for. 

His forearms held his torso up as your hands latched behind his neck- legs spread and waiting for him to plunge himself into you. Only Satoru looked into your bleary eyes with a smile, “You wan’me inside?” he huffed- watching your bottom lip quiver, lowering himself close enough for your lips to brush against his.

“Tell me 'nd I will.” he grinned against you- watching your eyes close, trying not to cave to his demands. Biting your lip as he pressed his tip against your entrance- teasing you in the slightest. 

You breathed a light whimper, blinking your eyes open and staring into his power-crazed ones. “Please-” you whined, “Put it inside ‘toru.” the tone you took only made Gojo’s ego boost- smiling with parted lips as he slowly pressed past your entrance. 

A light whimper rumbled from his flushed lips as your hands pulled his neck closer, pressing your lips onto his. Breathing in every whimper, he exhaled onto your tongue as he eased himself into you. 

Being able to feel that you hadn’t fucked anyone recently- That you were faithful to him. And this was all just an attempt to rile him up, which only made him even more eager to burrow himself into you further, ‘You’ve been good. That’s what you deserve,’ he thought as his tongue danced with yours. 

The light sting from the stretch makes you huff out a pained whimper- inching himself deeper till his hips were flush to your thighs. His tip easily found the sweet spot he seemingly had exact coordinates to. 

Satoru placed his hands on your hips, slowly raising himself with your legs locked on his waist. Holding onto your back as you lightly ground your hips flush against his. 

A lazy, sloppy version of a lotus position, pulling away from his lips as you trailed a hand to his hair. Looking into his hazy eyes as his hand assisted your hips. 

Small moans leaving your throat as your lips brushed against his. Not even attempting to kiss him, knowing you wouldn’t be able to keep a pattern from how deep he was hitting inside of you. 

A light sheen of sweat coating your forehead as Gojo relished the look in your eyes- just fucked out enough to let the mask slip. Looking at him with love-filled eyes, your bottom lip quivering as your head threatened to tip back. 

Your nose scrunched lightly, neck curving back with a low groan. Not wanting to leave space between you- Satoru placed his lips onto your exposed neck, humming muffled whimpers against your skin as your bottom lip trembled. 

Words forming on the tip of your tongue as you ground your cunt against him. The position so full of intimacy, it made you forget you were doing this with your ex-husband. 

Puffing out a light breath, smile forming at the corner of your lips- sinking into the mouthwatering pleasure you incited with every small thrust. 

“Fuck, I love you.” you moaned mindlessly. But the words rang through Satoru’s ears like church bells, words he hadn’t heard in far too long- even in the past slip-ups. You always held your tongue, making sure to not plant that seed in his mind. 

Gojo almost came when he heard your proclamation, inching you back with his lips attached to your neck. Easing your back onto the arm of the couch, planting a foot onto the ground as your hands kept a tight grip on his neck. Satoru dragged his hips from yours with a loud schlop coming from between your legs. 

Pulling his lips from your neck, he looked at your expression—pinched eyebrows and eyes shut tight- showing him you were close. So close, he could hear it in your sighs of content. 

Satoru leaned down to your ear, huffing a warm breath against your cartilage. Shoving his cock back into you- bottoming out too quickly, earning a whine from your lips. Wasting no time before repeating the movement. Setting a speedy pace with a low whimper.

Sliding your hands up his forearms, landing on his biceps as he quickened the pace- riding himself up an orgasm. 

“Lemme make you a mama again-” he huffed into your ear, his tip nudging your sensitive spot with every thrust- you moaned his name in response, so close your brain would have short-circuited had you tried answering. 

Satoru grunted with a smile, thinking of the words he was about to say. “Marry-” he groaned, feeling your cunt suck him in with every pull he did, “me again.” he whimpered, his thrusts pushing you up further.

Taking a long lick at your ear- urging you to answer him. Pulling away from your neck, placing his hand on your jaw lightly. “Huh?” Satoru grinned.  “Marry me again baby.” Watching your eyes crack open- bearing your teeth softly as you felt the warmth in your tummy over fill. 

Pressing his parted lips to yours sloppily- pulling away, and watching your eyes threaten to roll back. You started nodding your head ‘yes’ in his hand frantically- your walls flexing around his speedy cock as he felt you come undone. 

Your nodding agreement was all Satoru needed to lose the rhythm of his thrusts. Sloppily pushing into your clenching cunt, his whining muffled by his bottom lip being tucked between his teeth. 

Your lips started babbling soundless pleads- ‘please, please,’ and to Satoru’s ears- you were begging for him to fill you. Fill you till he didn’t have anymore to give. 

And as a loving and obedient husband- that’s what he did. 

With one loud grunt- he spilled himself into you- his thrusts slowing, not as long strides, but he made sure to push his seed deeper into you. Keeping that declaration of making you a mom again. 

A low whine left your lips, feeling his warm spend coat your walls with every twitch his cock made inside of you. 

So full, you were sure his proclamation would come true. And he came a lot- as though he was saving it up just for you. 

Heavily breathing as he slowed his thrusts, pressing his forehead to your temple. Trying to catch his breath as he came down, feeling your heartbeat against his own chest- racing and pounding against his sternum. 

Soft kisses planted on your face, your hands easing their grip on his sides. Satoru's hands slid down to your hips, raising himself to his knees and looking down to where you were still connected. 

A low gulp bobbing in his throat, knowing he would have to pull out eventually; And dreading it. Thinking of a million ways to keep you filled and plugged with his future offspring. 

And as you finally could steady your breathing, Gojo yanked you down from the arm of the couch. Back landing flush against the cushions with a soft grunt. Looking at him, all but asking what he was doing. 

Till Satoru pulled himself out of you, hoisting your hips up from the couch with two strong hands. “Sator-” you tried saying, only for his arms to hug the crease of your thighs, bending you in half with your legs flailing in the air. 

All the pressure was placed onto your shoulders as Satoru latched his mouth onto your messied clit. Keeping his eyes parted and watching your expression churn. Placing a hand onto his forearm- bracing as he greedily lapped at your neglected clit. 

Mentally- this was to give his seed a better chance of taking. Hips in the air- all of the cum he had just pumped into you had nowhere else to go but deeper inside of you. And to also get a taste of you- even if remnants of his cum mixed with it. Satoru didn’t care, as long as he got to taste you. 

Huffing out all the air you could, puffs laced with moans. Your hands gripping harshly onto Gojo's forearm, leaving minor crescent-shaped marks on his skin from your nails. 

Basically folded in half, your hips started writhing in his grasp- overstimulation creeping up your spine from his vigorous tongue. 

Spasming in his hands- trying to warm you were close, but it only came out as more ragged whimpers. Clenching your teeth with your eyes shut tight- unable to see the starved expression looking at you as Gojo unraveled you. 

And once Gojo felt your clit tremble between his lips- he knew it was too soon to let you back down; he needed to keep your hips aimed up as long as he could. 

Satoru watched your bottom lip tremble as he continued the movement with his tongue. Your hips trying to shimmy from his grasp- but he held you up with two strong arms that had a mission. 

Abusing your overwhelmed clit as your eyes screwed together tighter- white spots infiltrating your closed vision with desperate moans. The top of your head bumped into the arm of the couch as he pushed you into a firmer bend. 

Your entrance squelched against his chin as he pulled another orgasm from you- more ragged whimpers littered with his name falling from your lips. 

You huffed- feeling his mouth go unbothered from the third orgasm he had given you. “Please ‘toru-” you whimpered, cracking your eyes open and looking at the crazed man holding your hips. Satoru pulled his lips from your cunt- looking at you with a smile. 

Half his face soiled with your arousal and a glimmer of his seed on his chin. “Just one more-” he egged on, looking at you with dazed eyes. “Jus’onemor-” he cut himself off by placing his lips back onto your clit. 

You only sighed a whimper, allowing him to get his fill. 

Satoru lapped at your puffy clit, his eyebrows pinching together as his cock sent signals to his mind- the same signals that he was close to an orgasm. Untouched and so close just from pleasing you- from hearing your pretty sounds. 

Gojo started to whimper lightly- whimpers that vibrated against your cunt and caused your moans to slur into higher-pitched puffs of air- trying to pull through another orgasm. Taking your lip between your teeth with harshly pinched eyebrows, puffing through your nose with muffled whines. 

He closed his eyes- feeling the knot formed in his tummy snap as your knuckles turned a lighter shade, just from how hard you clawed at his forearm. Feeling a warm spurt onto your bent spine as you tried to focus on cumming. 

It took very little time for Satoru to gift you a fourth orgasm, a small tear falling from your closed eye as you aimlessly shifted in his grasp. 

Satoru sloppily licked at your cunt- cleaning up the mess on your clit with a softer tongue, parting his eyes and looking at your expression. Slowly easing his grasp on your hips as he unfolded you, placing one last kiss onto your cunt, earning a spasm from your hips. 

He eased your hips back down onto the couch, watching your fucked out expression breathe in as much air as you could- trying to catch your breath. 

Uncaring if the mess he spurt onto your back messied the couch- you always complained about how ugly it was anyway. 

He lazily laid himself atop you- placing the side of his face on your collarbone as your hands rested on his shoulders, rubbing small circles on his skin. Grunting softly from how easily he laid his entire body weight on yours. 

You parted your eyes, trying to blink away the post-orgasm haze. Even if you had showered a few hours ago- Satoru’s bath offer sounded like heaven. 

It seemed to take no longer than a few slow blinks. Easing into the clawfoot bathtub Satoru chose specifically for times like these when he bought the house. 

Sighing softly as his arms held you close, his palm gently sprawled against your lower belly and your back pressed to his chest. Avoiding the conversation that needed to be spoken about.

Knowing it would never be spoken if you shoved it off, jettisoned aside to be talked about later. 

“Satoru?” you hummed, placing the back of your head onto his chest. 

He sighed, closing his eyes and nodding his head 'no'. “I don’t wanna talk about that right now.” he huffed, feeling your hand clasp his beneath the water. Interlocking your fingers with his and closing your eyes. 

“If we don’t talk about it now, we never will.” 

Satoru smiled. “Then let’s never talk about it~” he scoffed. 

You furrowed your eyebrows, trying to make sense of the meaningless words he babbled into your ear earlier. “You really wanna marry me again?” you asked- unsure if they were just words he mindlessly spouted at the moment- or if they had any meaning. 

He scoffed, “What kind of question is that?” 

Inhaling as though you were about to speak- “Course I wanna marry you again,” he hummed. Rubbing your belly softly, “nd make you a mom again.” 

Pulling his hand from your tummy with a scoff, causing small ripples in the water. “Be serious.”

“You have no idea how serious I’m being right now.”

Your lips pulled to the side, mulling over his proclamation. 

“You still love me?” he asked, looking down at the side of your face. 

Turning your neck slightly, you peered your eyes up at him with sincerity filling them. Furrowing your eyebrows, you tried not to admit it, but-  “Of course I still love you, ‘toru.” You mumbled. Heartfelt words that rang true in your heart. 

“I don’t think I’ll ever stop loving you.”

“Then marry me.” he whirred, watching your hand pull his left one up from the water. Your eyes admiring the wedding band he hadn’t taken off. 

You stayed silent, holding his ringed hand in yours. Satoru would be lying if he said seeing your ring finger empty didn't hurt. 

Your silence gave Gojo his answer, “Why not?” he whispered, hearing a ragged sigh from your lips. “I still love you- you. You still love me-”

“M’scared.” you mumbled. Feeling your shoulders tense against his chest with a small ripple in the water. 

Satoru let out a half-laugh from his chest. “Of what? I’ve been good, haven’t I?” he grinned, his playful tone invading your ears. 

“You were good when I was pregnant too.” you quipped, dropping his hand into the water and recalling the days he started slipping through your grasp. 

You sniffled lightly, “nd look what happened.”

Satoru bit his tongue. Knowing if he started defending his baseless actions, this would end up being a fight. 

“I spent so long wondering if it was me- if I was the problem.” you scoffed. “I don’t want to let you back in just for the same thing to happen.” 

Satoru pulled you closer with a sigh, “It won’t happen again.” he whispered into your ear, “I promise.” 

You huffed air from your nose, making Satoru think you didn’t believe him. “I’ll even write it into my vows this time.”

A small laugh left your lips, “You won’t miss single life too much?” you played, feeling his head rest against yours. 

“Not once have I felt single since you signed those papers.” he grinned. 

You pondered his offer, pretending to actually consider the option before you. 

Satoru softly kissed your ear, “C’mon- I’ll be such a good husband~” he whispered. 

It wasn’t as though you ever really felt single either- That one year spent apart was still full of love and a marital dynamic. 

The rest of the night was spent in the same bed Satoru built after you moved into the house, cuddled up just the way you had longed for since he moved out. 

The following day, Satoru couldn’t wait for his son to fully wake up- he walked into the hazy child's bedroom and asked if he wanted a little brother or sister. 

All smiles and beaming eyes in the kitchen- telling his son that his plan worked. He made you fall in love with him, and he was finally your husband again.

And as you watched your husband and your son giggle with each other in the kitchen, you smiled. Warm cheeks from the thought that Satoru actually thought you stopped loving him at some point.

But then again, you never really fell out of love, did you?

-

I loved writing this sm.

[drunk-person]

Bravery in love

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader

Summary: For Prince Aemond Targaryen, bravery was in war and fighting. Until he met his wife and learned about different forms of bravery.

WARNING: No age restriction. Unhealthy amounts of cuteness and softness, a tiny bit of pain, and one paragraphs of sexual innuendo.

Word cont: 3.500 k

Author's note: Okay I saw a really cute video of a baby discovering that she could move her legs whenever she wanted and she was so cute and I ended up writing this story which is basically a giant fluff hahahaha. English is not my first language so be kind if you can 💕💕.

♡-♡-♡

The sun was already high in Kings Landing on a beautiful warm spring day, the beauty of the season lifted everyone's spirits, but no one had a bigger smile than Princess Y/n, Prince Aemond's wife as she ran to the bedroom door to tell them to call her husband.

The two had been married for two whole years at this point, an arrangement made between Aemond's grandfather and her father. Initially Y/n was apprehensive about the marriage, considering the many terrible stories she had heard of women who had married before her. But upon meeting Prince Aemond, her heart melted for him before she even realized it.

He seemed cold and hard at first when she arrived at the capital, but then suddenly he was so shy and so sweet when they were alone in the garden to talk for the first time. And when Y/n said she liked stories, he smiled, turning his face to the side and told her that he also really liked stories.

Later that night, when Y/n returned to her room, she found a book with a black leather cover and the title "Rhaenys, the bravery of love" next to a very small blue flower. The young lady thought she would faint right there when she touched the soft petals of the flower.

Then came the wedding and after that nothing but happiness with her husband. Every day the two became closer and trusted each other more, to the point that Aemond told her his deepest sorrows and she in return confided hers, and little by little she realized that everything her husband wanted most was just be loved, and that's what she did, she loved him.

Y/n felt happy in a way she never thought would be possible, there was only one problem, it had been a year since the wedding and her belly still hadn't shown any signs of growing. And it wasn't as if she and her husband weren't trying, after they both became acquainted Aemond became thirsty for touch and planted his seed in her every day, sometimes more than once a day, which made her even more worried.

The cruel whispers had already taken over the fortress. Words like "infertility" and "dry womb" became common when they thought she wasn't listening. And as broken as Y/n's heart was, she tried hard to pretend to her husband that it didn't hurt that much. She knew how much Aemond wanted a child, and it was her duty to give him one, guilt plagued her when she thought about it, thinking that she couldn't do so little for a husband who gave her everything she asked for without blinking.

On a winter afternoon with the weather colder than usual in the capital, Y/n was sitting alone in the garden admiring a pair of nightingales that had made a nest in a nearby tree when she felt Aemond's soft but possessive touch pulling her towards him.

-What are you doing here in this cold weather? You'll freeze. - His low voice sounded against her ear and she just smiled weakly.

-I like coming here, it's where we had our first conversation, remember? - She looked at him. - It always makes me happy to think about that day when I don't feel cheerful.

-And why would the most beautiful lady in the realms be sad? - Aemond looked at her deeply, Y/n felt as if he saw through her soul and still trying to hide his sadness, he looked down at the ground.

-Wife. - His gloved fingers guided her chin up and she couldn't escape his gaze again. - I know something is wrong, tell me.

And Y/n could no longer contain herself, the tears that were very well kept ran loose down her face as she hid them in her husband's chest, sobbing and trembling while holding on tightly to him, as if he would evaporate before her.

-I'm sorry, husband! - She sobbed against his chest.

-Y/n, my dear, did someone hurt you? - His voice sounded calm but with barely contained anger as he pulled her closer and closer in an act of protection. - Tell me who it was and I will kill him myself.

-No one has hurt me, husband. - She leaned against him, still pulling on his jerkin. - It's just me and my apparent inability to grant you a child.

-It is not up to you to grant me a child. - He said, looking at her firmly as he brought his hands to her face. - That depends on the will of the gods, when they feel it's time, they will send us a son. Until then, I don't want to see you crying because of this. - He stroked her cheeks with his fingertips and Y/n smiled, her face still slightly wet.

-Now let's go in and have some tea, I don't want you to catch a cold. - He guided her inside by the waist.

That night, amidst moans and groans of love and burning passion, Rhaenys was conceived to the joy and pride of her mother and father.

To Aemond's relief, Y/n had an easy and uncomplicated pregnancy; she just had a burning desire for him and wanted him inside her every hour of the day without rest, something he granted without discussion after a extensive research to find out if it would not pose a risk to his wife or the baby.

The birth was not much different, it was late summer and the weather was starting to get cooler, but even so, it was a difficult time and Aemond did not leave Y/n's side at any time, and the maesters did not dare ask him to leave the birthing chambers more than once after the absolutely deadly look Aemond gave them at the first request.

And when Y/n cried and told her husband that she was scared, he grabbed her hand tightly and whispered only for her to hear.

-I know you can do it, my sweet girl. - Leaving a kiss on her sweaty chest.

-I am not as brave as you. - She cried while shaking her head and holding onto her husband's hands.

-Remember that there is also bravery in love. - Aemond spoke softly, but confidently as he squeezed her hand.

And after hearing that with restored strength at the thought of her little baby, Y/n pushed even harder as she screamed through the pain and could finally hear the sweet cry of her little girl. At that very moment she burst into tears of pure relief and emotion, and when the maester placed her in her arms wrapped in a bloody white cloth she could swear she saw her husband shed a tear or two too.

And with passionate smiles the two chose the name of their little daughter in honor of the conqueror who gave the title to the first gift that Aemond gave her on the day they met. And from that sweet moment on, little Rhaenys became the pride and joy of both their lives.

Almost 7 moons later, already in spring Y/n now felt that her happiness was complete. The sparkle in her eyes could be seen from miles away as she played with her little daughter who had begun to sit up on her own. With each new discovery Rhaenys made, Aemond and Y/n celebrated as if it were a victory in a tournament.

One of the sweetest moments was the day she discovered she could control her own legs. It was something so simple, but so sweet. They were sitting on the bed talking while Rhaenys absentmindedly played with a small wooden sculpture in the shape of a dragon, using it to scratch the teeth that had bothered her since birth.

Suddenly, when they both looked, Rhaenys was laughing as she slowly raised her left leg and watched with a look of delight, only to do the same with her right leg and then lean forward trying to grab her own legs, smiling and babbling.

They both smiled and looked at her full of love, everything was perfect and Y/n had never felt so good in her life. Except for the fact that two days later she discovered that the court had not stopped talking about her. Y/n was walking distractedly towards her own chambers when she heard the whispers and low laughter of other ladies.

-So long to be able to give the prince a child and when she does, it's a girl. - The mockery was clear in that voice.

-Poor Prince Aemond, how much longer will it take until she can give him an heir? - Another lady laughed while whispering. - He'll have to settle for just a daughter, it seems.

Y/n felt her eyes watering at the same moment and accelerated her pace towards the rooms while breathing deeply trying to contain her tears and with a deep sigh she entered her own chambers while wiping away a tear that escaped. As soon as she raised her head and looked at the room she almost smiled at the scene before her.

Aemond sat on the carpet with his long legs crossed with his little Rhaenys held in his arms, his voice sounded softly through the room and now Y/n smiled genuinely when she saw what he was doing.

-Say Kepa. – Aemond smiled gently at his daughter. - Kepa. - He spoke more slowly while gently caressing the child's back.

Her husband was always trying to teach her to say "father" in Valyrian, and the little girl just babbled as she stuck her fingers in her mouth and smiled toothlessly at her father. Aemond swore that she was almost able to do it and that she had even said a syllable to him when they were alone. The prince, feeling like he was being watched, raised his head and smiled softly when he saw his wife standing near the door.

-Your muña is back byka sõvion. (Little butterfly) - He murmured softly to his daughter as he gently shook her and made the little girl smile. Aemond's loving gaze gradually faded as he noticed his wife's melancholy and he carefully placed Rhaenys on the carpet, leaving a soft kiss on the crown of her slightly curly silver hair.

-Umbagon va se ritz byka sõvion. - (Stay on the carpet little butterfly) He whispered as if his little daughter could understand every word and she just screamed and babbled while slapping her hands on the carpet.

The prince walked slowly to his wife and pulled her closer to him, caressing her hips with the tips of his thumbs.

-What's wrong, Issa jorrāelagon? - Aemond murmured against her forehead, leaving a kiss there and then brushing his nose against hers.

-People can be very cruel sometimes. - She sighed against her husband's neck, and Aemond felt his own blood burn in his veins at the prospect of someone being cruel to his Y/n.

-Who had the audacity to say anything to you? - Aemond's voice was restrained, but anger dripped from the corners of his lips and Y/n just shook her head quickly as she laid her head on his chest.

-Just nasty whispers.

-What kind of whispers? - He continued with his voice carefully restrained as he pulled her closer and closer, holding her tightly.

-Does it matter to you that I gave birth to a girl? - She looked him in the eye with pain. - Would you rather have had a son?

-Sīkudi nopāzmi. (Seven hells) - Aemond practically growled with his face contorted with rage as he held Y/n's face firmly between his palms. - Qilōni istan se wretched gīs qilōni naejot vestragon bona naejot ao? Ivestragon issa ābrazȳrys! (Who was the wretched soul who dared to say that to you? Tell me, wife!)

Y/n looked at him confused, not understanding what he had said other than ābrazȳrys. And breathing deeply, trying to control his own nerves, Aemond repeated more calmly while rubbing his wife's arms gently.

-Tell me who was wife. - He asked, looking deeply into her eyes. - Who dared to say such a thing to you?

-I just heard it when I was passing by. - Y/n had seen who it was, but she wouldn't tell him because she knew her husband would do something about it.

Aemond snorted again and pulled her back to him.

-Wife, I don't want you to listen to such nonsense ever again in your life. - He murmured to her. - You and our daughter are everything in my life, and although I wish to have more children, if we had no more besides Rhaenys I would be the happiest man in this cursed land for having you.

-To issi issa glaeson. - He sighed as he tucked a lock of Y/n's hair behind her ear.

-What does that mean? - She asked slightly emotional.

-You are my life. - He repeated, looking firmly into her eyes as he squeezed her hands in his. - And there is nothing I value more than you and our byka sõvion.

He smirked as he looked at Rhaenys who had laid down and was now trying to shove her own foot into her mouth while spluttering and laughing.

-You know me better than anyone else, wife, and I'm honest when I tell you that I've never been happier in my entire life than I am now. Our family brings me joy.

The smile on Y/n's face could warm even those beyond the wall as she jumped on her husband and hugged him happily.

-I love you, husband. - She sighed against his neck, Aemond didn't respond, but he never responded, at least not with those exact words, his heart was much more complex than that.

More moons passed, and Aemond became increasingly enchanted by his daughter, his eyes shining with each evolution and discovery that the little girl made. He never wanted to miss anything, he liked to be there for every little new thing and he made it clear to Y/n that she should call him anytime and that's what she did on one special day.

-Send for my husband! As soon as possible. - Y/n hissed at one of the maids who was passing by the hallway. The young woman nodded and ran without even looking back towards the training courtyard to look for the prince.

-Your grace, forgiveness for the interruption. - The girl said, looking at the ground. - But your wife urgently requested your presence.

Aemond's chest was briefly breathless when he heard that, and without caring about anything else, he dropped his sword on the floor and ran towards his own chambers.

He entered the room calling for his wife with wide eye, but his expression changed from fear to curiosity when he saw her with her index finger against her lips in a clear sign of silence for him, while with her other hand she pointed to the foot of the sofa where Rhaenys was standing for the first time as she tried to walk on her own.

Aemond's jaw dropped, and he felt tears coming to his eye, his little girl was almost walking.

-You forgot. - Y/n smiled and gently pulled off her husband's eyepatch, throwing it on the table. She had convinced him not to wear it around Rhaenys. At first he hesitated, but it proved to be a good thing since the little girl was completely enchanted by the sparkle of the sapphire in her father's eye, always reaching out her hands towards him and gently rubbing the area while she babbled. And Aemond wouldn't admit it out loud, but that small gesture of affection made him feel loved in a whole new way that he had never felt before.

Still with tears in his eye, Aemond turned away he slowly approached the couch as he crouched down next to his daughter, who, upon seeing him, screamed with excitement and took an excited step towards him. And as if all of this wasn't the most magical thing that had ever happened to him, Rhaenys began to babble as she tried to walk towards her father.

-Ke - She babbled waving her free hand towards him and Aemond felt his heart warm. - Ke-pa.

-Konir sagon paktot byka sõvion, māzigon tosh kepa. (That's right, my little butterfly, come with daddy) - He whispered to his daughter with a slightly cloudy voice.

-Kepah! - She screamed in that sweet baby voice as she took her hand off the couch to clap her hands and before she could fall on her butt on the floor, Aemond caught her, preventing her from falling while two tears ran down his eye. Rhaenys looked at him with wide eyes, a little scared after almost falling, but Aemond caressed her back affectionately, calming her.

-Ziry iksos byka sõvion, kepa kessa dōrī ivestragī ao ropagon. (It's okay, little butterfly, daddy will never let you fall.) - He smiled as more tears fell and Rhaenys looked at him enchanted as she once again caressed the sapphire attached to her father's eye. - Dõrī. (Never) - He reaffirmed with a look of pure love.

Rhaenys had said her first words and Y/n did not understand what her husband was saying to her daughter, just a few words that he had already taught her and the sweet nickname he gave Rhaenys, but her heart was so warm that Y/n thought it might be on fire. She could see the love overflowing from her husband's eyes in an uncontrollable way and at that moment Lady Y/n knew that only she and her little Rhaenys were enough.

About a moon later Aemond decided it was time to introduce his daughter to Vhagar. And after a short trip in the house on wheels and a walk along the edge of the royal forest they arrived at the immense dragon. Y/n already knew her, she had even flown on Vhagar with Aemond, but even so she was a little afraid for Rhaenys, something that she told herself was completely unfounded because of all the people in the world she knew that the only one who would never do anything that could put her Rhaenys at risk was Aemond.

The prince had barely approached the dragon with his daughter and she was already looking at him curiously, still with her head lying on the meadow. And while Aemond spoke to her in Valyrian, Y/n just smiled in love, the smile only got bigger after Rhaenys laughed and screamed as she took her little hands to caress the dragon's scales while babbling some incoherent things to her father.

-She'll be a formidable dragon rider one day. - Aemond stated seriously as he smiled sideways at his wife who just rolled her eyes unable to imagine her little girl on a beast that size, but she knew she had to get used to the idea, she was a Targaryen after all.

-If she's as good as her father, she'll be the best of them all. - Y/n smiled as she caressed her husband's back and left a kiss against her daughter's soft hair.

At the answer, Aemond smiled and pulled her by the waist closer to him and his daughter while leaving a sweet kiss on her lips.

-You've told me more than once that you're not brave. - He murmured against her lips as he gently brushed his own lips against hers. - But you were brave to love me when no one else tried. Thank you for being everything I wanted, everything I needed.

After saying that he extended a small flower with blue petals to her and smiled a little shyly as he made Rhaenys more comfortable in his arms.

And with tears in her eyes, Lady Y/n reached out and took the small, soft flower between her fingers, then hugged him and her smiling daughter, knowing that in her husband's strange and rigid language, that was an I love you.

Since Aemond was courageous enough to ride huge dragons, engage in sword duels and so many other dangerous things, but simple words terrified him. She didn't need them, she knew how to read her husband's heart, eyes and actions that told Y/n every hour of every day that he loved her, and even if he didn't love her, she was brave enough to love for both of them.

And with that thought she smiled and kissed him sweetly on the lips as she held both him and her precious Rhaenys close, her beloved most precious possessions.

[actual-changeling]

Between Agatha and Rio, threats and acts of violence are a very specific kind of communication that they both understand as such.

What looks like hatred on the outside is passion & care so all-consuming they HAVE to try and tear each other apart every once in a while. They share the pain and whatever comes with it while protecting themselves from everyone and everything else. I see the humour in this scene but there's something so primal in "her mother can't have her".

Because that's not her family, I am.

They see each other's fear like no one else, and only when her mother threatens Rio does Agatha offer herself up instead.

They are both saying don't look at her, look at me.

Don't hurt her, hurt me.

We're introduced to this in episode 1, and while they're a bit rusty in their love, you can see and feel it in every movement, every drop of blood, every second of intense eye contact. Rio could end Agatha with a snap of her fingers but she doesn't.

Instead, it's a dance—they're equals in a way they understand, and the cinematography is wonderful in supporting that. Rio shows her throat while holding her knife to Agatha's, which is a sign of vulnerability and trust. In a real fight, you don't expose your soft parts to your opponent. This, like everything else, is a message. An "we're still us".

They laugh. They share a joke. Don't get me started on the choking or we'll be here all day.

Agatha is Rio's scar and Rio is Agatha's still bleeding wound. A cut she can try and heal for her. I don't think Rio expected her to grab the knife by the blade since she looks quite surprised, she didn't intend for Agatha to get hurt in that way, so she heals her as somewhat of an apology.

Also, this is foreplay to them and it's hot.

[flowerandblood]

Duty and desire (Oneshot)

[ canon • Aemond x niece • wife female ]

[ warnings: incest obviously, sex content, smut, angst, praise kink activated, lactation kink, fluff ]

[ description: An incident between her husband and their sons causes her uncle to completely break down. She decides to show him how deep her feelings are towards him and to comfort him. A heartbroken, vulnerable, infatuated Aemond in need of simple tenderness. ]

Author’s note: The events of this oneshot are part of the canon of The Fall from the Heavens series and feature the same characters. I couldn't sleep and that's how I mentally coped with what I saw in the second episode of the second season. You're welcome, lol. If you still didn't watch it, wait with reading it (if you don't like any kind of spoilers). It can be read as a standalone story.

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

My other works: Masterlist

_____

He had returned to their chamber earlier, tense and visibly frustrated despite the fact that he usually spent that part of the day sparring with their sons, training them in the wielding of the sword.

She smiled at him from above her book, watching as he involuntarily looked into the cradle where Visenya slept peacefully.

The birth of their first daughter was joyous news for the entire kingdom, including them.

"So early?" She asked, spreading out comfortably in her chair, curious about this change of plans. Her uncle only pursed his lips at her words, walking over to the table where she sat and reached for a cup, into which he poured himself a little wine.

He remained silent.

A bad sign.

"What's happened?" She asked immediately, seeing that hundreds of thoughts were currently running through his mind, which if they did not find an outlet would eventually explode in the form of his fury.

He took a few deep sips from his goblet without looking at her, setting it down with a loud clink of steel on the table.

"Viserys and Aegon have suggested that Ser Robert should be the one to train them today. They apparently want to become archers." He said with a sneer and anger that startled her. She swallowed hard, closing the book, understanding full well that his words were only the tip of what he was really thinking about.

"In your presence they always feel they have to prove themselves. They're afraid of being ridiculed in front of you. Maybe it's…"

"At their age I dreamt of my father doing for me what I do for them. This is our time together." He growled, looking out of the corner of his eye into the area where she sat, but not directly at her, immersed in his thoughts, memories and regrets.

"I know." She whispered and her words, something about the way she said them made his lip tremble, made him lower his head in shame and cover his face with his hand, drawing in air loudly.

"They are terrified at the sight of me. Both of them. They don't love me, they just fear me. Their own father." He mouthed, his quivering voice betraying that although he tried to control himself, something about the thought had broken him.

She stood up from her seat, shaking her head, coming up to him quickly, wanting to touch his arm with her hand, but he moved away and turned his head, not wanting her to see what was happening to him.

"If you could hear with what pride and admiration they speak of you when you are not there. They so desperately want to please you." She muttered in pain, feeling a squeeze in her heart at the thought that he might have believed he was a bad father, when they both knew how hard he tried.

"To please me? My sons, they live to please me? And if they don't then what will happen to them? Hm?" He asked and fell silent, looking at her at last, his eye red with grief and despair, his face simultaneously red and pale with emotion, his lips parted in a heavy breath.

He covered his eyes with his hand as he burst into silent sobs, as if he had not stifled the thought for a day or a month, but for years, ever since their first son had been born.

She looked at him in disbelief, stunned, at the same time hurt and saddened by his words, by the thought of how he judged and perceived himself.

"Looking into my eyes do you see anything other than love?" She asked, renewing her attempt, taking a step towards him, and this time he didn't pushed her away, looking at her uncertainly.

"– it's something else –" He whispered.

"– how can it be? – do you think I would love a man who is a bad father to my children? –" She asked further, and he swallowed hard, trying to calm his breathing, his cheeks red from tears.

"– stop it –" He said and turned away, wiping his face, walking to the other side of the room, embarrassed and ashamed of his weakness.

"– sit down on the bed, husband – I want to explain a few things to you –" She finally said.

He sighed heavily and did as she asked, making room beside himself, looking down at his hands, heartbroken. She, however, walked up to him and did not sit next to him, but on his lap, surprising him by taking his warm, red face in her hands, stroking his moist skin with her thumbs.

For a moment she simply looked at him, all helpless and vulnerable, feeling the heat in her chest.

"– you're defending our family – you're the rock that protects us – you have to show strength – be determined – and that's hard when you're king and father at the same time – the burden of the crown is great and you know it – you're trying to prepare them for it –" She whispered, with each successive word placing kisses on his red face: on his forehead, his temple, his eyebrows, his eyelid, his cheekbone, his lips, his jaw.

She felt his hands involuntarily rise to her waist, stroking her through the material of her gown.

"– so why don't they understand this? – why do they push me away? –" He muttered, focusing his gaze on her full, plump lips, his manhood hidden in his breeches pulsed softly in a natural reaction to her closeness.

"– because they are still children – children who need their father to love them no matter what – a father who will sometimes let them go their own way –" She said softly, in a gentle, light motion untying the black ribbon at the back of his head, making the front strands of his silver hair fall over his shoulders.

"– I just want to spend time with them like a father with his sons – I want them to need me –" He whispered, and she nodded, letting his broad hand move her hip closer, making her body press against his.

"– I know, my husband – my sweet, sweet husband –" She whispered and heard him draw in the air loudly, surprised, his erection pulsed hard between her thighs.

She licked her lips, wondering if he was aroused by what he was hearing.

"– my husband is so good to me –" She gasped softly, letting their lips join in hot, sticky, lazy kisses, making wonderful heat surge through her body. "– my sweet friend – my sweet boy –"

She shuddered as his fingers tightened on the material of her gown, his throat leaving a sound she had never heard before.

He moaned.

Not the way he usually did, low and deep, when it was on the verge of panting, but high, the way she did when he gave her sweet pleasure.

Their fingers tightened on their bodies, letting their mouths find each other in greedy, violent, deep kisses – his cock between her thighs swelled all over and pulsed, hot, betraying that he was now completely ready to possess her.

"– I love you – please –" He muttered, forcibly ripping her gown off her shoulders, exposing her naked breasts, all swollen with milk. Something like a sigh of delight and relief left his throat as he sank his face into her sternum, his thumbs stroking and teasing her nipples hard from the cold.

She moaned as she tilted her head back, untying the material of his breeches, feeling the wonderful, pleasurable wetness between her thighs, proving that she was ready to receive him deep inside her.

"– my sweet husband deserve to be soothed – doesn't he? – to feel his beloved wife – how warm she is – how wet she is –" She whispered, cupping his swollen, quivering erection in her palm, feeling how incredibly hard it was, its tip thick and smooth, dripping with his moisture.

"– yes –" He mumbled in shame, directing one of her breasts to his face, holding it in his hand, finding her nipple with his mouth, beginning to suck it loudly along with her milk as she guided the head of his cock against her pulsing slit.

"– ah – my husband is so hard for me – makes me feel so fucking good – so, so big –" She cooed, sinking slowly onto his manhood only to lift herself on it with a loud click of her wetness, opening her thirsty, fleshy cunt again and again on his long, throbbing erection.

"– f-fuck –" He exhaled, embarrassed, imposing a fast, aggressive pace on her at once, clearly aroused by what she was saying and how she was behaving, needing her affection, her acceptance, her closeness, everything he couldn't ask of anyone else outside the door of their chamber.

"– it's all yours, my dearest – I can ride you all night – you'll fill me with your seed as many times as I need, won't you? –" She gasped, and he groaned loudly into the skin of her breasts, clamping his hot hands on her hips, pounding into her like there was no tomorrow, panting and quivering along with her.

She wasn't sure she had ever experienced a similar orgasm, so overpowering, hot, soothing, delightful.

"– f-fuck – f-fuck, Aemond, yes –" She whimpered, throwing her head back as she felt his body convulse, his warm seed filling her womb wit his low moans of pleasure.

He released her nipple from his mouth, panting heavily, snuggling his cheek into her chest, letting her arms embrace him in a tight grip, her lips placing tender, hot kisses on his hair.

"– forgive me – I'm ashamed – I –"

"– you are my husband – let me give you relief when you need it –" She whispered, combing her fingers through his long hair.

"– but – it was –"

"– a husband can show tenderness and understanding to his wife, but a wife to her husband cannot? –" She asked in pain, and he swallowed hard, letting out a loud, shuddering breath.

"– it won't happen again –" He muttered, needing, apparently, for her to tell that lie so he could stop thinking about how weak he was, how he needed it, how pleasant it was.

That he would beg in his mind for more.

More of her tenderness.

More of her praise.

More of her love.

"– as you wish –"

[pluralpaganidiocy]

Was reading some posts about HDG, written by someone outside the community.

What absolutely struck me is the lack of understanding about how the setting works.

First and foremost, I don't care what anyone says, it's a disability narrative. All the kink, and layers of horror and imperialism is in service to the disability narrative.

Because when your body or mind do not function like you expect them to, it's fucking horrific.

It's goddamn terrifying when my legs give out climbing the stairs, it's horrifying when I lose my ability to speak when I get overwhelmed and my stutter comes out full force, when I can't move because the pain from my knee is so intense I lose vision.

Quite often when I am like that I don't want help, I don't want anyone near me, I will actively refuse assistance. This is because of pride, fear, shame, a multitude of reasons. I don't want care, but I need it nonetheless.

One of the most powerful and meaningful things my current partner has ever done for me was telling me to shut the fuck up and let her help.

I needed to be forced to let her help me, despite being in so much pain moving made me scream.

She still needs to make me take painkillers, because I won't on my own.

This kind of care is an intrinsic part of HDG, you are so hurt you can't figure out what you need, so we will do it for you, and we will make you if needed.

Additionally, at least for me, another aspect is knowing that the people you care about are being cared for too.

A huge chunk of my life and daily stress is making sure my friends and lovers are okay, making sure I have enough reserve cash if I need to support or be able to make an emergency trip, anything at all to prevent another fucking lost friend and tearful memorial before their names get added to my sad list of loss.

I *know* I am deeply traumatized by loss, by closed casket funerals, of self inflicted wounds. Because I wasn't there, or fast enough, or didn't notice the signs in time.

I have as a result made myself into the kind of person that will drop Anything to be there. To drive across the country at a moment's notice because there was a Possibility that my friend needed me.

In the world of HDG, that isn't needed, everyone is going to be cared for and safe, and I would be able to finally rest. To relax. To enjoy the beauty of my friends instead of standing watch.

And that is a disability narrative too.

[werecreature-addicted]

Imagine an alliance between 2 tribes, the werewolves and the humans, lately there have been many disputes and grudges between the two tribes, so they planned an alliance, a marriage, the daughter of the leader of the humans should marry the leader of the opposing tribe, a young werewolf with the desire to start a beautiful family

He coughs trying to calm his heart as he imagines the great difference in size between the two and the good sex they would have COF COF

You were ready to do whatever it took to keep your people safe, and if marrying the Alpha of the werewolves to keep the peace, so be it. Really this was a good thing, it would double the land your people had access to, double the resources and riches, not to mention werewolves had proven to be formidable adversaries, and they were sure to make invaluable allies. so why were you shaking? why were you so scared? this was clearly the right thing to do for you and the people you served.

You supposed the fear was natural. you'd spent almost all of your adult life fighting these monsters. almost dying to their sharp claws and vicious teeth. it would probably be a while before you stopped seeing all werewolves as a monolithic enemy. Although, you already knew all werewolves weren't bad. When you were a child you would sneak away into the woods and play with a werewolf pup around your age. Now looking back you cringe thinking about how dangerous that was, no doubt one of you would have been killed if either of you had been caught. Still, he'd been sweet, if one werewolf child could be kind, couldn't they all be?

Your wedding was hardly even a ceremony. Guards on both sides lined the walls of the office, fully armed and tense, ready to strike if something should go wrong. you smiled tensely at your husband-to-be as you signed the paperwork officially making you a married couple, he did not smile back. The marriage license meant almost nothing to him, werewolves sealed their romantic ties in a different way.

Every human in the room goes stiff as the werewolf alpha tilts your head to the side, cupping your jaw with one hand and pulling the collar of your shirt to the side with the other. your heart races and you try to be pliant in his hands, but your mind is flooded with your memories from battle. how many times have you been bitten by a werewolf? how many times had you felt the searing pain of their bear trap-like jaws clamping down on you, crushing your armor, and tearing your skin? he bites you just as you start hyperventilating. You scream. he's killing you, he's going to rip your throat out this was all a trap, you're going to die.

He lets go of you and you collapse, your legs shaking too badly to keep you up, The werewolf pulls you back into your arms, licking at the wound he just left, you struggle, still panicked. "sorry, I know it hurt, humans are so weak," he murmurs still licking at your neck. it does soothe the pain, slowly you start to relax too. you hadn't died, he hadn't betrayed you. you were bound together now, Mated as they called it.

You put yourself together again in time for the celebratory banquette. you were a warrior and a leader, you had to be stronger than this, or at the very least look stronger than this. You stood statuesque next to your new husband at the head of the table, humans and werewolves alike cheered in joy, the war was over, the tribes united. People ate and talked merrily, although no one seemed brave enough to cross the invisible boundary line, werewolves ate with werewolves, humans with humans.

there was a lavish meal set in front of you but you didn't feel up to eating, instead, you examine your reflection in the back of a spoon, despite the wound only being a few hours old it's already scared over looking months old. You knew werewolves had some healing properties, you were surprised this magic could be transferred to humans.

"Does it hurt?" you jump at the rough voice, you'd almost forgotten your husband was right beside you.

"no. I'm just surprised that it doesn't," you admit. he reaches over and lays his clawed hand on top of yours comfortingly.

"I'm sorry it scared you," he says and you feel your face go hot you were embarrassed at your reaction. you knew he was going to bite you as a way to mark your union, you should have been better prepared. you look in his eyes, they're a strange yellow color, it's captivating, even if his expression is stoic his eyes are looking at you kindly. you remember again the werewolf boy you were friends with, and you wonder if he remembers you if he's even still alive. You hoped he was, you hoped you could see him again in this new life.

you blink, realizing you'd gotten lost in thought just staring at him. "I- It's alright I mean. I'll live," you stammer. He squeezes your hand reassuringly.

"Of course, you're so tough a single bite wouldn't be enough to take down my mate," he's teasing you you realize, it makes you smile a little. this wouldn't be so bad after all.

[mariasont]

hi hi hi!!! i know you’re working on the bau sleepover buttttt i was wondering if you could write a aaron hotchner x reader fic where like what happened to garcia, reader gets shot and she’s in hospital and they don’t know if she gonna be okay and stuff. her and hotch have this mutual pining for each other and when she gets shot he kinda spirals. after being released, hotch takes her to her apartment and stays with her until they catch him and stuff. i know this is really long, thank you!!!

Some Profiler You Are - A.H

a/n: hi hi hi thank you so so sooo much for requesting <3 i kind of took this a more fluffy route and focused more on the recovery so let me know if you like it :)

masterlist

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

warnings: reader was shot, comfort, angst like a teensy bit, fluff, changing of bandages, kinda shitty ending per usual

wc: 2k

"Do you want to sit down?"

No, you really didn't. After spending the last six hours in a state of near-motionlessness, sprawled across various surfaces, the last thing you wanted was to do was sit down. Your legs had taken on the consistency of overcooked noodles, so you made the grave mistake of misreading the quiet of the house as Hotch's absence, a mistake punctuated by the garage door's sudden rumble.

You should have known better than to assume he would leave you alone for even a second. Now, you were face to face, his scrutinizing eyes boring into yours, arms crossed across his wide chest. He was in a casual zip-up--a rarity that you never imagined him wearing before practically moving in with him. But you really did enjoy this relaxed side of him, he wore it exceptionally well.

Taking work off was a concept you knew was foreign him, yet here he was, not at his desk, hovering over you like a concerned parent. The entire office, yourself included, gaped at him as if he had sprouted a different head when he told them. His next move was even crazier--he insisted you stay with him while you recovered.

You protested. A lot. Shocker. But he wouldn't take no for an answer. Again, Shocker.

You winced as you stepped forward, your hands automatically gravitating to the bandage that spanned around your thigh.

"You can't baby me forever, Hotch," you murmured, though your conviction wavered under the dull throb in your leg.

You braced yourself against the counter, trying to mask the discomfort you were sure was etched all over your face.

Filling the shoes of the communications liaison for the FBI post-JJ's shift to profiling, you signed up for a life of managing the media narrative, being the conduit between local and federal levels, and choosing the cases. You provided assistance in ways that aren't glaringly obvious.

What you didn't sign up for is getting shot.

The movies, the stories, even the firsthand accounts from coworkers--none of it could brace you for the raw, blistering pain of a gunshot wound. It fucking hurt. And the recovery? It was a different kind of torture, and you'd even argue that it was worse.

"It's not babying, it's common sense," Hotch countered.

He was frustrated. You had that effect. He stepped closer, his hand dragging down his face. "You took a bullet. It's still in your leg. It's perfectly rational for me to want to prevent any unnecessary strain on you."

"Feels dramatic," you shrugged, but he was right, like always.

Your grip on the counter tightened, knuckles growing white as you struggled to keep the pain under wraps. His brows lifted in response.

"I'm fine, really, Hotch. I hate this. You're probably dying to get back to work--don't let me be the reason you don't. Despite popular belief, I'm quite capable of fending for myself."

"I'm aware," he said, his attention briefly shifting to your bandaged leg. You were wearing shorts, a choice that felt less than appropriate, but practicality trumped formality under these circumstances. "Work will survive without me. I'm not sure I can say the same about you."

Your laughter was short-lived, swiftly turning into a stifled grimace as your footing slipped. Hotch's reflexes were quick, his hands steadying you--one against your ribs, the other just shy above the hem of your shorts.

"Point in case."

"Poking fun at a wounded woman? Shame on you, Hotch," you chided, your lower lip jutting out in a pout. His eyes darted to it momentarily.

He didn't move, his hands staying put, stirring a gentle, jelly-like feeling inside of you.

This was an odd sort of comfort, the kind you're not supposed to feel with your boss. You shouldn't be talking to him like this, shouldn't be in his kitchen, and certainly, his hands shouldn't be where they were. But the ache in your heart didn't seem to care about shoulds and shouldn'ts.

Hotch's presence was hard to ignore. He was reducing the space with every word.

"You're hardly acting like a wounded woman," he pointed out. "You should be in bed."

You tilted your head, sliding onto the barstool to carve some much-needed space between you. The scent of his cologne was intoxicating, and you needed distance to gather your wits before you did something that HR would definitely not look kindly upon.

The action was a mistake, a fact that became painfully clear as the feeling of something stabbing into your leg took hold. You tried to muster a smile, but you were sure it came across as a snarl. The last thing you wanted was to inflate Hotch's ego by showing that maybe, just maybe, he was right.

"Shit."

You followed his line of sight, landing on the fresh red seeping through the bandage and staining your shorts. Oh. That's not great. Don't think you can fool him with this one.

Hotch didn't hesitate, his response outpacing your own surge of panic, which was incredibly fast, because you were panicking and frankly not that great with blood. His hands were on your skin, easing the hem of your shorts upward to lay bare the wound you had stupidly  underestimated.

You're never going on a date again.

I mean, the only reason you even went was to get your boss of your mind. Since the first day, you'd been hopelessly drawn to him--how could you not be?

But there are a couple factors to consider.

Firstly, he was your boss, and the whole notion of a coercive relationship dynamic seemed problematic.

Secondly, there's the age difference; it had never been an issue for you--perhaps a reflection of your daddy issues--but you knew it would raise some eyebrows.

And thirdly, he didn't even like you back. That was, of course, the biggest issue. If not for this, the other concerns could definitely be overlooked. 

Before this whole incident, he barely acknowledged you beyond was professionally required of him. You knew you hadn't been part of the team long enough to bond--though you weren't sure Hotch did bond in the usual sense, but the point was made.

You were fairly sure you hadn't made much of an impression on him.

"Hold still." That was a tall order, considering it hurt more than a mother fucker.

You found yourself glaring at him--not that he was to blame, but you needed to anchor your frustration on something, or someone. Unknowingly, your grip had latched on the fabric of his zip-up, but he seemed unfazed. He grabbed a clean cloth from the drawer, pressing it against the wound, only furthering the colorful vocabulary going on in your head.

"Fuck, Hotch."

You didn't make a habit of cursing in front of your superior, but the sharp sting forced tears to the brink, your body going rigid as you snapped your eyes shut. 

His other hand found its way to your uninjured thigh, giving it a firm squeeze--a clear attempt to divert your attention. It worked for a second. "I'm sorry, just keep this pressed here, okay?"

He motioned toward the cloth, and you complied, too drained to consider otherwise. Your brows knitted, and you bit into your lip until you tasted something metallicy, your mind desperately racing trying to think of anything other than the blood flowing freely from your thigh.

"Where are you going?" You knew how panicked you sounded as he turned away, stepping towards a cabinet. 

He rummaged briefly before holding up a first aid kit. Catching the brief alarm in your face, he quickly returned to your side, his hand finding the crook of your neck as you instinctively clutched at his shirt once again.

"If you dare say I told you so, I swear, Hotch, fists will fly," you ground out through clenched teeth.

He laughed, and now that did distract you, your eyes zeroing in on his perfect teeth. It was a rare display, and it only served to aggravate you further. Of course he had perfect teeth.

"I didn't say anything."

"I could feel you thinking it," you said, your voice rough as you willed the moisture in your eyes not to fall. "Maybe I should be a profiler."

"Definitely."

"Sarcasm doesn't suit you." You were lying. Everything suited him. He stepped back, and you reluctantly peered at the wound, only to find a neatly sutured leg. "Where did you learn to do that?"

"In this job, you learn to be handy with more than just a gun.”

You’d love to know what else he’s handy with.

He pulled your leg up to rest on his as he took a seat on the opposite stool.

Your body was buzzing, from the closeness, from his hands on you, and also from the pain, but you were trying to ignore that. He grabs a new bandage from the counter, hands trailing up your thigh so slowly you thought you might pass out. He was so gentle. There was no other word for it.

"How's it feel?"

You paused. Eyes fully locked on his precise movements as he wrapped you up. You were closer than you realized, practically sharing the same breath.

"Fine."

"Yeah?"

You nodded, and he finished up his task, his hand lightly patting your thigh to show he was done. You didn't move your leg from his lap, and he didn't move his hand.

"I couldn't sleep for three days."

"What?" Your brows were furrowed, your focus sharpening on his face as the words left his lips.

"When I found out you had been shot." He cleared his throat, his thumb making gentle rotations on your calf. "I couldn't close my eyes without seeing red for days. I wanted to kill the son of a bitch who did that to you. I almost did."

You weren't sure how to process this information, or why he was telling you. "You and me both."

"I'm serious." And you could tell he was, his eyes narrowing slightly as his hand firmly encircled around your leg. You felt a lump in your throat form as heat rose from your neck to your ears. "Do you know what that was like? I felt like my heart stopped."

"Why?"

"Why?" It was more a scoff than a word. He blew out a breath, his fingers pinching into the space between his eyebrows. "Is it not obvious?"

Your heart was beating a lot faster. You wanted to say something, anything but your throat was dry and every time you opened your mouth you found it snapping shut.

Hotch's expression softened ever so slightly, his voice low and bouncing off the walls as he spoke. "Because I'm in love with you."

Your breath stalled, as if every ounce of oxygen had been vacuumed from your lungs. The air felt heavy, almost tangible.

You stared at him, heart skipping a beat.

"That's not funny," you said. It wasn't. You weren't in the mood for jokes, and your brain couldn't comprehend he might be telling the truth. "You...you don't even notice me."

He shook his head. "I notice everything about you." His thumb stilled on your calf. "I'm your boss," he said, as if that explained everything. "There are rules, protocols. I couldn't...I still shouldn't..."

The confession stripped the room of its warmth, leaving a raw aching silence in its wake. You searched his face.

"When you got shot," he continued, "I realized that if I lost you, I'd regret not telling you how I feel for the rest of my life."

"Hotch, I..."

He leaned closer, causing your words to catch in your throat. His hand moved from your leg to your face. You were speechless, the world narrowing down to the man in front of you, to his eyes, the warmth of his hands.

"Say something."

"Are you kidding me?" Your heart was pounding like it was trying to escape from your chest. "I've been in love with you since I started. How could you not see that?"

He looked taken aback, as if your words were the last thing he expected. "Well—,"

But you didn't let him finish. "Some profiler you are."

You were practically climbing into his lap, hands framing his face, pulling your lips to his.

He chuckled against your lips, the sound vibrating through you. "Easy," he murmured, "don't make me fix that bandage again."

You laugh, the sound muffled by his mouth. He tasted like cinnamon and coffee. "Shut up, Hotch."

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna

[miniaturesuitgladiator]

Batfam x Neglected Mortal

Kombat reader

Lucid Dreams llll

Notes: this is part five to lucid dreams.

Warnings: child abuse ,child neglect

___________________________________________

Your heads hung low and you can't see their faces but you can tell their in shock. They all gasp so quietly that your almost sure that you didn't hear them. But you did.....

You mother had hit you. And despite you being stabbed and cut in your life nothing has hurt more than this.

And you don't notice but for the first time in all the time you've lived in the manor. Bruce's sees you. The real you. Not some monster. Just you.

Bruce has always kept you at arms length with such hate. But though he'd never bother to admit it ,he never truly hated you.

He was afraid.

You were something that he couldn't control. Something that he couldn't stop.

Because nomatter how many blood test or experiments he couldn't find your weakness.

Even the famous superman had kryptonite. But you? You were undoubtedly unstoppable.

The fire that you could easily create was as easy and as normal as breathing for you. And all the test bruce did showed no sign of you being a meta you were just.....normal.

But the fire that flowed through you so amazing was not normal whatsoever. Your fire was far to hot. It could burn or melt anything even superman.....

How was bruce not supposed to be scared when he lived with something that could him kill and his family so easily?

But he didn't care to realize that you are his family too. And that was his biggest mistake....

so he pushed you away. And acted as if you didn't exist. Because in his delusional mind maybe if he acted like you didn't exist you'd disappear.

But you haven't ,you've stayed. You've stayed through the pain through the mean things that everyone in this house has said and done to you.

He doesn't understand it. He never has.

Until now. He sees it he sees your reason for staying but only that. He sees your weakness.

But not only weakness, but weaknesses. You have not one ,but two. And he mentally curses himself because how has he not noticed this before?

Your first one is simple and is your strongest weakness. It's your mother.

She's the reason you've stayed the reason you've put up with everything. Because she controlled you. You had done everything she asked. Nomatter if it'd hurt you or not. Your loyalty was unmistakably tied to her.

your second weakness is bit diffrent. It's what always kept you from harming them or saying anything mean back to them. Because at the end of the day.. your just a child.

A hurt neglected child. And he knows that. But he's also hurt you. He's hurt you so much. And feels as if he's the one that been slapped as he looks at you.

But other then regret he's in shock. But not because of your mother smacking you. Or the words that leave your mouth next.

No, he's in shock because how the hell did she land a hit on you?

In all the time he's known you no one has ever been able to land a hit or punch on you.

You were simply to strong. To overpowered.

It's a strong slap he'll give your mother that. But anyone could've stopped it even Alfred. So why didn't you?

And he sees your red and burning cheek and it fills him with such regret even though hes not the one that hit you.

He can that tell no one in this room is on your side. And he knowns you know that. And he knows how that feels. And it hurts him even more because he's done this to you.

He watches as you lift your hand and he feels how the room goes tense at your sudden movement. He reacts quickly ready to defend your mother from your justified rage.

You watch as even your mother flinches and you scoff. You simple lift your hand and rub you cheek where she had hit you.

"You insult me women. Even in your darkest moment's you still think I'm a monster." You say

And your words hit your mother hard. You had never called her 'women'. Never.

You've always been kind and respectful to her. And she's watched as you slowly shifted from calling her mama to mother.

But you calling her women was such a great insult. Why? Because it was such a insult that only she'd understand.

In your old world calling your mother women had undeniably meant that she was no longer your mother. It was like she had meant nothing to you.

And when she looks in your eyes she can tell that's exactly what she is to you now. Nothing.

And she feels the same way she did when she found out that jason was taken by the joker. She feels like she's just lost a child.

Because in reality she knows that she just did. But not only a child. Her child. You. Her one and only blood child.

Her eyes fill up with tears so quickly and her mind can't think of any words to say. Atleast none good enough for you to forgive her actions.

You notice her tears immediately and you don't feel bad for upsetting her like you usually do.

No, you feel nothing but anger towards her.

"You hit me and your the one crying? You really are a bitch." You say. And she sees your anger and hate for her.

And she wants to deny your words or more importantly beg for forgiveness. But she can't. She's completely helpless right and she wonders if this is how you felt like these years....

You stare at her for a moment longer before you begin walking away.

"Scew you and this fucking family!" You yell. As you walk out of the living room. With such angry and loud steps.

No one makes a move to stop you but that doesn't surprise you at all. You leave the manor and slam the big door as you leave.

Walking out you take nothing with you ,but you don't stop your march out of this place. Because it fills relieving finally leaving the cold walls that you've always felt trapped in.

Climbing over the big gate of the manor just like you did last night. Suddenly you don't feel the anger you did moments ago. All you feel is sadness...because your alone....you have no one.

Sighing and decideding not to pity yourself you continued walking.

You want to go to grandfather house..but it's a long walk....and you don't want to talk..and your sure your mother's expecting you to go there so it's better to just stay away from everyone for now.

You've been walking away from gotham for hours now. It's already dark and you just know that everyone's probably looking for you.

Regardless of that you only feel bad for jason and your grandfather.

Your thoughts have been eating you up for hours as walk down a random dark gravel road. Your lost but you don't seem to mind. And it's beginning to snow but your body stays warm with the help of your powers. So you continue walking without a care in the world.

Until you hear foot steps behind you there quiet and soft. And if you weren't so well trained you wouldn't have heard them.

Quickly you turn around only to be met with darkness and a little light from a old street lamp.

Your in the country surrounding by long grass there's plenty of places to hide. And don't have any weapons but you doubt you'll need them. You doubt you'll even need your powers....and maybe it's your fault for doubting.

You here the footsteps agian. You don't recognize them. But you feel like you should.

Like you've heard them before. Now that worries you....And on instinct your hands begin getting warmer by the second waiting for anything to happen.

Then the foot steps are on your right side. And now you know exactly who the foot steps belong to and you try to ignore the shiver that goes up your spine.

Your hands are bawled into first so tightly that you can feel your finger nails digging into your skin. And you can see your breath in the cold air as you beg speaking.

"I know who you are." You say and you turn your body towards the small figure that finally steps out of the tall grass and into the dim light.

And you can't ignore the second shiver that goes down your spine as they begin speaking.

Because nomatter how old you get seeing a ghost is always scary.

"I've missed you ,sister."

___________________________________________

Thanks for reading!!

Taglist: @dhanyasri , @kore-of-the-underworld , @i-adorehannah , @plsfckmedxddy , @phoenixgurl030 @bunbunboysworld @bat1212 @skepvids @sirenetheblogger @Nervousalpacalady @118gremlin @darktrashpoetry @bitternsweet @kksmush @awawage @coffeemin @feral-childs-word @cens0r3d @sweetprincesscomputer @exactlynumberonekryptonite