#you’d rather me pretend to be okay even though you know I’m not

[rynbutt]

safe. | spencer reid.

You were pregnant but JJ had just left the team and they needed you. You hadn't told anyone; you hadn't even told Spencer.

my masterlist!

cw: fem!reader, pregnant!reader, guns, violence, mentions of murder, mentions of drugs (antidepressants and opioids), mentions of car accident, gunshot wounds, death of pregnant woman, general criminal minds themes.

wc: 6.2k

a/n: bruh this was a looooong one! dw some banging smut coming in the next one with post-prison reid >:3

now playing... Fare Well by Hozier

This was really starting to piss you off.

You fell to your knees as bile pushed up your throat, your skin paling as you vomited for the third time today. You tried to keep something, anything, down but you would just wind up curled in on yourself and sweating in the corner of the bathroom stall. You ate a couple of crackers and sipped on water to keep your empty stomach satiated– But you always ended up right back here on the bathroom floor with your head between your knees trying to will the pain away.

Emily noticed your pale complexion and how exhausted you looked, offering to get you some medicine or ask Hotch about sitting out of the next few cases. You told her you were fine, that it was just stress. That answer seemed to satisfy her enough, though she wasn’t fully convinced. To be fair, your workload had increased tenfold since JJ was forced to accept the job at the Pentagon, and you missed her terribly but you were proud of her. But you really could have used her advice right about now.

Because you swore this baby had it out for you.

You found out you were pregnant just over a week ago and you still hadn’t told Spencer. You were still wrapping your head around the whole thing because initially, you didn’t think you were pregnant, you just thought your body was dealing with the stress and workload in, frankly, a bizarre way. Hotch had wanted you to take over doing JJ’s job as communication liaison, which were rather important shoes to fill. He had total faith in your ability to do JJ’s job as well as do your own as a profiler, but you weren’t so sure anymore. 

You would tell Spencer when you were ready and right now was not a good time. Everyone was surviving on four hours of sleep a night, far too many cups of coffee and sheer willpower. The absolute last thing they needed was to lose another team member. So you soldiered on like a champion– a champion who still held her head over the bureau’s less than impressive toilet while she threw her guts up.

“Y/N?” You didn’t even hear the bathroom door open, the ringing rattling around your skull distracting you from your surroundings. Penelope’s heels clicked against the tiles as she cautiously peered around the wall of the last stall where you kneeled on the ground. “Oh my god, sweet thing! What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine, Pen,” your voice was hoarse when you finally replied. You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and tried to smooth your hair down, attempting to look at least semi-presentable before you left the bathroom to pretend everything was okay.

“No, no, my girl, you are not fine!” Penelope stood in behind you, pulling your hair out of your face as you vomited the last remnant of your soul into the toilet. “You need to talk to Hotch, you’ve got a bug or something, my dear. You shouldn’t even be at work when you’re this sick, let me talk to him for you and you just go home–”

“I’m not sick, Penelope!” You didn’t mean to shout at her, you really didn’t, you just felt awful and felt like a shell of yourself with how poorly you’d been sleeping and eating paired with all the stress of doing JJ’s job as well as your own. It was just a lot.

Penelope went quiet but stayed close to you, still holding your hair as you sat back on your heels, running your hands down your face. She let out a soft sigh, knowing you didn’t mean to shout at her. Penelope was stressed too– everyone was.

“I’m sorry, Pen,” you mumbled, your throat hurting from all the vomiting and coughing you’d managed to do today– it had to be a record honestly. 

Penelope just shook her head at you, reaching her hand out toward you, “you don’t have to apologise, sweet girl, I know you’ve got a lot on your plate.” You shook your head, you still felt bad and shouting at sweet Penelope was not the way to deal with all the emotions swirling around in your head.

“It’s not fair,” you replied as she helped you to your feet, gently guiding you over to the basin to help you clean yourself up. “You’re stressed too, I didn’t mean to yell.”

Penelope brushed some of your hair out of your face, her gaze narrowing as she watched you, waiting for you to tell her what was going on. It never came and she knew she would have to push you a little. Penelope thought it was necessary though because seeing you like this was awful and she couldn’t even imagine how Spencer would react if he knew how sick you were.

“What’s going on?” Penelope’s voice was soft; gentle, just trying to get you to talk so she could help. You were stubborn when it came to asking for help and by the time you did, you had hurt yourself more than necessary trying to solve it yourself. Not this time though– Penelope refused.

“I’m okay–” you looked at Penelope and she raised her brows at you, not accepting that answer in the slightest. You sighed, knowing this is a fight you wouldn’t win. “I’m pregnant.”

Penelope’s jaw nearly hit the floor. She knew something was up with you but pregnant? That was not on this year's bingo card. “What?? Y/N that’s–” she gauged your expression and she really couldn’t tell if you were upset or happy about being pregnant. She cut herself off before she finished her sentence, pulling her lips into a line. “Are we happy about this news or are we…?”

“We’re…” you were happy. Honestly, you were. You and Spencer had talked about having kids one day, ideally after you were married but that didn’t seem to be going to plan. You’d been with Spencer for three years, in the BAU for four, it’s not like your relationship was new or in the honeymoon phase, it just wasn’t the original plan and that scared the hell out of you. But you were happy to be carrying his child– the timing was just piss poor. “We’re happy… just scared.”

“Oh, baby,” Penelope cooed. “Of course you’re scared, it’s a huge adjustment. But I know you and I know Spencer, you guys will nail this parenting business.” Penelope managed to prove time and time again why she was your best friend. You often wondered if she knew you better than you knew yourself, which wouldn’t really surprise you given her job.

“I hope so.” You smiled softly, feeling somewhat human again after splashing water on your face and washing your hands. You knew Spencer would be a good dad, he was so good with kids and he was so gentle and patient with you. He was meant to be a dad. You just weren’t sure if you were meant to be a mother. You wanted to be a family with Spencer, it made you feel warm just thinking about it, but you were a person who worried about almost everything, even the things out of your control. What scared you was how in control you were. 

“I’m surprised Spencer hasn’t told everyone, that boy is obsessed with you and you’re making him a dad? God, it must be killing him sitting on this–” Penelope suddenly looked at you wide-eyed, connecting the dots all on her own. You winced as you watched her figure it out, gritting your teeth as she let out a soft gasp. “You haven’t told him?!”

You covered your face with your hands, letting out a muffled squeal of frustration into your palms. You would tell him eventually, just not right now, he was far too busy and was already stressing about his own workload, you couldn’t imagine how much more stressed he would be if he found out you were still in the field while pregnant.

“Pen, please,” you turned to her, “please keep this to yourself. I– We can’t deal with this right now. JJ’s gone and everyone is worked to the bone, I can’t do this to everyone right now, especially Spencer.” Penelope looked at you sympathetically, you knew you were asking a lot of her to keep it to herself, especially when Penelope wasn’t great at keeping secrets.

“Y/N, sweetie, you’re going to have to tell them eventually– You’re an FBI Agent. Being in the field is so dangerous and you don’t just have yourself to think about anymore.” You knew Penelope was right. You carried a gun around for Christ’s sake, you literally hunted down serial killers, active shooters, total psychopaths and everything in between. The field was no place for a pregnant woman. 

“I know, I know,” you sighed, resting both of your hands on the basin in front of you.

“...How far along are you?”

“Twelve weeks,” you said softly, resting your hand against your belly. You didn’t have much of a bump yet but you were sure it would sneak up on you before you even realised. Lucky for you, you wore a lot of baggy sweaters around the office so you had some wriggle room when it came to hiding it.

“...My money’s on a girl,” Penelope was trying to make you feel better. She really was helping because the idea of Spencer hosting tea parties, getting covered in kitten stickers and his hair being covered in tiny butterfly clips made your heart swell.

You let out a soft laugh, “I think so too.”

“Alright, my love, I think we should leave this bathroom before they send out a search party,” Penelope laughed, linking her arm with yours to guide you out of the bathroom. 

You honestly did feel better after talking to Penelope and throwing the rest of your guts up. She made sure to remind you about ten times to call her if you needed anything, you promised you would because it did make you feel better knowing that someone knew about your pregnancy and you didn’t have to bear the weight of the news alone.

You sat down at your desk with a sigh, sipping on your water bottle to soothe your raw throat. You popped a piece of gum in your mouth, willing the taste of bile away. You let out a huff of air as you stared down at all the paperwork you had to do. Doing JJ’s job proved to be intense, especially when you were doing your own work on top of her’s. You picked up your pen when you felt Spencer press a kiss to the crown of your head as he placed a mug of hot coffee on your desk in front of you.

You smiled, craning your neck to look up at him. Spencer took the opportunity to kiss you softly, one of his hands resting on the side of your desk while the other rested on the back of your chair. You smiled against his lips, “shouldn’t you be working?” You teased.

“Are you trying to get me to go away?” Spencer looked at you curiously. You rolled your eyes playfully because of course you didn’t want him to go away. If anything, you wanted him to pick you up and take you home right this second.

“Yes, Spencer,” you replied sarcastically, “I’m trying to get you to go away.” Spencer wasn’t great with sarcasm but he had come to understand your humour over the years. He just grinned and pressed another kiss to your lips.

“Sarcasm is rooted in truth, angel,” Spencer retorted with a gentle smile. 

“I am joking, but we both have a lot of work to do, Spence. I don’t know how I’m going to manage doing JJ’s job as well as my own,” you sighed, leaning back in your chair.

“There’s a reason Hotch wanted you to do it. I don’t think he could have picked anyone more capable,” Spencer replied. Maybe it was the hormones and the fact you were carrying a baby, but the comment made you want to cry. Spencer frowned as he watched your face fall, “what’s wrong, angel?”

“No, nothing,” You replied, sniffling quietly. You gave him a genuine smile, “I’m fine, Spence. I promise–”

“New case just came in,” Morgan called to the two of you, gesturing toward the meeting room at the back of the office with a manila folder in his hand. 

You looked at Morgan with a confused expression because now it was your job to decide what cases the team took after JJ’s departure. Morgan told you the case went straight to Hotch this time; an old friend had called in a favour. 

Spencer pulled a chair out for you, taking the seat right beside you in the meeting room. You opened the case file the moment Penelope dropped it in front of you.

“The victims are 20-year-old Evan Miller and 21-year-old Daniel Clark, both engineering students at Caltech. They were shot three days apart outside their family homes in the local area of Pasadena, California.” You followed along with Penelope as she gave a run down of the victims and the circumstances of their deaths.

The killings were straightforward, the UnSub didn’t try to dispose of the bodies and the men were simply shot in the head execution style. It didn’t seem like the doings of a serial killer who would usually seek some kind of sexual release from torturing and killing their victims. If anything, it seemed like revenge killings.

“They were just shot?” Emily questioned, eyebrows furrowed as she stared at the crime scene photos. 

“Once in the head,” Hotch replied, “there were no witnesses around which suggests the UnSub knew the routine of the victims and the neighbourhood.”

“Could be a stalker?” Penelope suggested.

“Stalker victims are usually the object of a stalker’s affection, they rarely act in violence let alone such a blunt killing,” You replied, confused by the nature of such a straightforward murder.

Spencer flicked through the victim’s files, “the single shot to the head suggests the UnSub just wanted them dead. No physical evidence of sexual release or torture… This could be some kind of revenge killing.”

“Did these victims know each other?” You asked.

“According to their parents, they came from the same friend group,” Penelope replied. 

“Wheels up in thirty. Garcia, you're coming with us. Get your go bag,” Hotch said, quickly standing up from his chair. Penelope made a small noise of surprise before quickly ushering out of the meeting room. Hotch didn’t usually have Penelope come along but given you were short a very valuable member of your team, Penelope had started coming along more often. Not that you would ever complain having Penelope around. 

You pinned up the last of the crime scene photos on the board, standing back with your hands on your hips. Spencer was writing on the whiteboard next to you, jotting down all the things you knew about the victims and possible motives of the UnSub. Hotch and Morgan were engaging in formalities with the local detectives on the case while Penelope got herself settled in the makeshift office they had set up for the team. 

“The parents of the victims are here,” Emily poked her head into the office. “Y/N, Hotch wants you to talk to Ben and Sarah Miller, I’ve got the Clarks.”

“Alright, I got it,” you replied, letting out a dejected sigh. 

“You okay?” Spencer gently tucked some of your hair behind your ear, turning his full attention to you. You let out another sigh, nodding your head tiredly. “You can do this,” he said quietly, his eyes shifting between yours.

“Yeah, I know,” you smiled softly. Spencer planted a soft kiss on your cheek before leaving the office, leaving Spencer and Penelope alone. 

“...I think she needs a break,” Penelope said after a beat. 

Spencer looked at her, eyebrows furrowed, “what makes you say that?”

Penelope tried to be as inconspicuous as possible, “she’s doing JJ’s job and her own. I mean, I think she’s the right girl for the job but… you know what she’s like.”

Spencer sighed, he knew exactly what you were like. You always held yourself and your work to such a high standard and you often overworked yourself to make everyone happy. “Yeah, I know. I’ll talk to her when we get back to the hotel.”

“I think that’s a great idea, lover boy,” Penelope grinned.

You opened the office door, files in hand. Mr and Mrs Miller immediately stood up as you entered and you gave them a sympathetic smile. Mrs Miller had clearly been crying, still clutching a tissue in her hand while her husband paced around the office.

“Please, have a seat, Mr Miller,” you said gently.

“I’ll stand,” he replied firmly. You decided not to argue and sat down on the chair opposite the couch where Mrs Miller sat.

“Mrs Miller, I’m Agent L/N, I’m with the Behavioural Analysis Unit in the FBI–”

“FBI?” She questioned. “Was Evan in trouble?”

“We suspect he and his friend Daniel were killed by the same person,” you explained. Mrs Miller let out a soft gasp, her hand coming to rest over her mouth. 

“Is it alright if I ask you a few questions about Evan?” You asked. Sarah didn’t say anything but she nodded her head, fresh tears forming in her eyes. “Daniel and Evan knew each other, right?”

“They went to high school together,” Sarah replied, her voice shaking. “They were so excited when they both got into Caltech,” she smiled sadly, fresh tears streaming down her face.

“Do you have any idea who killed our son?” Ben asked, his voice sounding angry.

“That’s what we’re here for,” you said, “we’re here to find who killed your son and why–”

“‘Why”?” Ben repeated, “he was just a kid.”

You sighed softly, “I understand that, sir. We’re just trying to figure out a possible connection.”

“Evan and Daniel were good kids. They would never hurt a fly,” Sarah frowned, sniffling softly as she began crying again. 

“Did Daniel and Evan hang around the same social groups?” You asked, turning your attention to Mr Miller, who was still pacing around the office with his arms crossed. “Maybe in some kind of extracurricular activities?”

“They were both on the college basketball team,” Ben said after a beat. “Why? You think this asshole is going to kill more of these kids?”

“I am just trying to get an idea of the social groups Evan and Daniel were a part of,” you didn’t want to get into the gory details of why you were asking such questions and decided they were both far too emotional for you to keep asking them questions; you would let Hotch handle it. “I need to speak with my team but I’ll be right outside if you need anything.” You rested a hand on Mrs Miller’s shoulder and you couldn’t shake how much you missed JJ doing this part.

You let out a sigh as you left the office, rubbing the tension in the back of your neck. You slowly walked over to Hotch, “Evan was on the Caltech Basketball team, he and Daniel went to high school together and Evan’s parents were adamant he was a good kid. I think he was a good kid, just got involved with the wrong people.”

Hotch let out a breath, “I want you and Prentiss to go to the school, talk to the faculty, basketball team coach, anything you can get.”

You nodded, gesturing to Emily on the other side of the bullpen. She firmly nodded at you and the two of you left for the school.

The team worked the case for two days before another body showed up. Everyone was starting early and finishing late to find the person who was doing this and you worked closely with the detectives and other officers on the case. Hotch gave the profile as soon as the team was certain but given the demographic of the suburban areas he was targeting these boys, it was rather unremarkable. The third body belonged to 21-year-old Oliver Marsh, another Caltech student studying Physics. He was shot once in the head while walking his dog no further than a block from his house. 

You stood in the middle of Oliver’s bedroom staring at the posters and certificates that littered his walls. Spencer rifled through papers on his desk, mostly finding papers related to physics journals and essays for school. Emily and David were downstairs talking to the parents while Hotch and Morgan went to see the crime scene.

You walked over to his bedside table pulling it open. There were a lot of birthday cards and a game boy but what caught your attention was the little clear yellow bottles with white caps. You lifted the first bottle out, reading the label–

“Oliver was taking Oxycodone,” you said softly, catching Spencer’s attention. “...And Escitalopram,” you spun on your heel, showing Spencer the two bottles. Spencer took the bottles from your hands, eyebrows furrowed as he carefully read the labels. “Chronic pain?” you suggested.

“Could be,” Spencer replied. “He could have been taking non-steroidal anti-inflammatories too, they’re typically over the counter.”

You rifled through the drawer again, pulling out a blue box, “Yeah, he was taking Ibuprofen too.”

“We should talk to the parents,” Spencer said. You nodded and the two of you ushered down the stairs to where his parents sat in the living room with David and Emily. “Was Oliver suffering from chronic pain?” Spencer quickly questioned before he even fully made it into the living room.

Oliver’s mother held a tissue to her nose, glancing at Emily with a confused expression. You put your hand on Spencer’s bicep, “Has Oliver injured himself recently? Maybe a fall or injury while playing sports?”

Oliver’s father shook his head, “No, not recently. He’s been on those antidepressants for a few years and takes the codeine when he has– had flare-ups.”

“Flare-ups?” David asked pointedly.

“He was in a car accident four years ago,” Mrs Marsh said, “He was in the passenger seat and was in a coma for two weeks… he hadn’t really been the same after that, got really sad and antisocial… he was in a lot of pain too.”

“He had to stop playing Football and running track, his body just couldn’t keep up,” Mr Marsh added, his eyes glazing over. “He lost a lot of friends, I don’t think I ever saw him hang out with anyone, Physics became everything to him.”

“Do you have evidence of his medical records anywhere?” Spencer asked. “Just so I can look them over.”

“Uh, yeah, of course,” Mrs Marsh stood up, Spencer following her to their home office on the other side of the house.

You sat down across from Mr Marsh, “The accident he was in,” you started, “what happened?”

He looked at you with a pain in his eyes, “He was in the car with some of his friends and they were driving home from a party and it was late. I think they were all…” he hesitated for a moment, “they were all drunk.”

“Who was in the car?” Emily asked, not liking where this was going.

“...Evan Miller and Daniel Clark,” his father began to cry, holding his hand over his mouth. You felt your eyes widen, this was a revenge killing.

“Who was driving, Mr Marsh?” David asked quickly.

“Um, god–” He sniffled softly, “Peter… Peter something, he was older than them, I really don’t remember.”

“Thank you, Mr Marsh,” You stood up, quickly moving to the front door to call Penelope. You pulled out your phone, dialling her number. She picked up after the first ring.

“How may I be of service, oh queen of my country?” she sang, her fingers typing furiously against her keyboard. 

“I need you to look into an accident for me, four years ago,” you said with your hand on your hip. “Oliver Marsh, Daniel Clark and Evan Miller were all in the accident too. See if you can find newspaper articles, news segments, anything– I think we know who the last target is.”

“Right, give me a moment,” Penelope replied. You heard her typing before she stopped, “Oh no…” she mumbled softly.

“What’s wrong, Pen?” You furrowed your brows.

“Peter Harvey,” Penelope sighed, “he’s the last boy… He was driving with three other high school boys; Oliver, Daniel and Evan when they struck an oncoming car and killed a pregnant woman on impact; her husband walked away without a scratch.”

“Shit.” You cursed, “What’s his name?”

“Jonathan Hughes, his wife was Katherine… she was 8 months pregnant, Y/N.” Penelope sounded so pained and you knew she was thinking of you and the small baby you were carrying. “Y/N…”

“I know, Pen… After this case wraps up… I’ll tell everyone,” you replied with a gentle sigh.

“And you’ll take time off?” Penelope sounded like she was lecturing you.

You smiled to yourself, “Yeah, Penelope. I’ll take some time off.”

“Okay… I’ll send Hotch and Morgan Jonathan’s last known address, I’m sending you Peter Harvey’s address–”

Your phone beeped as Penelope sent the address through. “Where would I be without you, Pen?”

“Nowhere good, my love,” you could hear the smile in her voice. You quickly hung up before walking back into the Marsh’s house. 

Emily and David turned to look at you, “We’ve got him.”

“Alright, you guys go, I’ll grab Reid and we’ll be right behind you,” David waved you off and Emily quickly ushered the two of you to the car. 

Emily was speeding toward the address Penelope had given you while you called Hotch and Morgan, filling them in on all the information Penelope had given you. They agreed to go to Jonathan’s address to hopefully intersect him before he left for Peter Harvey. You were always nervous when it came to these parts of the case because you couldn’t control the outcome no matter how hard you tried. A grieving man was going around killing these young men and while it was awful what he was doing; you could sympathise with him and the pain he was feeling over losing his wife and unborn child. 

You instinctively rested a hand over your belly, your thumb stroking the small curve. You couldn’t even imagine how much pain Spencer would be in if he lost you, let alone your child too. You would tell him and you would ask Hotch about taking some time off later in your pregnancy and sitting out of cases like this. 

“Shit he’s already here,” Emily cursed when she noticed Jonathan’s SUV parked a couple of blocks from Peter’s address. “Call Hotch.”

You dialled Hotch’s number and he picked up almost instantly, “What is it, L/N?”

“He’s already here, his SUV is parked a couple blocks down from Peter’s address. He’s already out looking for him,” You quickly said.

“We’re on our way, units are already on route,” he hung up after that. 

Emily pulled the car up on the gutter, the car skidding to a stop. You immediately pushed the door open, holding your gun by your thigh as you ran across the lawn to Peter Harvey’s house. You knocked on the door and a woman answered after a beat.

“Mrs Harvey?” You asked, panting softly.

“Yes?”

“Is your son Peter here?”

“No, he went to the store down the street an hour ago, he should be back soon… What is this about?” She asked, her hand gripping the door in concern.

“We believe someone dangerous may be looking for your son,” Emily said. Mrs Harvey rested her hand over her mouth, a soft gasp leaving her lips.

“Mom?” You spun around and Peter stood with a plastic bag of groceries in his hand in the middle of the lawn.

It all happened almost in slow motion. You saw a figure wearing dark clothes stalking across the lawn and without even thinking, you darted toward Peter as the UnSub pulled the gun out of his coat, aiming it straight at Peter’s head. You could hear Emily yelling at Mrs Harvey to go back inside before she pulled out her gun and aimed it at the UnSub; but it was too late.

You shoved Peter to the ground as he fired, feeling the shot burn through your shoulder as both you and Peter fell to the ground. You instinctively pressed a hand to your burning shoulder, warm blood oozing from the wound and through your fingers. 

“Jonathan Hughes?” You said, your breathing heavy as you tried to fight through the pain. He held his gun right in front of your face.

“Move,” he grunted, his eyes glassy.

“I know what happened to your wife,” you breathed trying to stall him as more police cars with blaring sirens pulled into the street.

“They killed her,” tears streamed down his face and you honestly felt bad for him. 

“It was an accident,” you replied softly.

“They were drunk,” he almost yelled, his hand shaking as his gun was still trained on you.

“I know,” you said, “It was a stupid mistake that haunted them, Jonathan. I know it doesn’t change what happened but these boys–”

“They’re monsters!” he shouted, hot tears streaming down his cheeks.

You saw David and Spencer get out of the car. Spencer’s heart was in his throat when he saw you kneeled on the ground, shielding Peter with your body while your hand and shirt were covered in your own blood. He didn’t even pick up his gun as he began stalking toward you.

“Y/N?” His voice was soft when he called you at first, then it turned to outright concern and anger, “Y/N? No, no!”

David grabbed Spencer’s arm, pulling him back as Spencer fought against him, trying to get to you. It was irrational and it was dangerous. David quickly picked up his walkie, “An agent has been shot, we need an ambulance.”

“Who was shot?!” Penelope’s voice rang out in the car as she spoke to Morgan and Hotch.

“I repeat, agent L/N is shot, we need an ambulance,” David spoke before putting his walkie away to hold Spencer back, pulling him to the ground.

“Morgan! Oh my god!” Penelope felt tears form in her eyes.

“It’s okay, babygirl, she’s going to be alright,” Morgan said, trying to reassure her as Hotch stepped on the accelerator. 

“No, Morgan, you don’t understand–”

“We’re going to get an ambulance–”

“She’s pregnant!” Penelope blurted out, not knowing what else to say for them to understand the gravity of why Penelope was so upset and concerned. 

Hotch hesitated for a moment, “She’s what?”

Penelope let out a shaky breath, “she’s twelve weeks pregnant, Hotch. She wasn’t going to tell anyone until after the case– and now she’s been shot.” Penelope began to cry, holding her hand over her mouth as tears slipped from her eyes.

Hotch hadn’t sped that fast since he found out Foyet was in his house. He cared about his team a lot and he had a soft spot for you even though he wouldn’t admit it. The tires skidded along the road as Hotch pulled on the handbrake, both him and Morgan training their guns on the UnSub as they approached.

Morgan’s heart hurt at the sight of you, your skin slightly paled as blood bloomed from your shoulder, drenching your arm and your hands. You looked so scared as the UnSub trained his gun on you, unmoving. Emily had her gun aimed at the UnSub, yelling for him to put it down.

“Jonathan Hughes!” Morgan’s voice caught your attention. “Put down the gun!”

“Don’t move!” Jonathan shouted, “I’ll shoot her!”

“No you won’t, man,” Morgan shook his head.

“How do you know that!? She’s in my way!” He shouted back.

“She’s pregnant,” Morgan sighed. Your eyes widened as you looked at Morgan, who looked back at you with a sad expression. 

Spencer stopped fighting against David, his breathing evening out as the words fell on his ears. You were pregnant. You were carrying his baby and you got shot and now you had a gun held up in front of your face. Spencer didn’t even realise he was crying, his tears cold against his warm skin. All he could do was watch, there was nothing he could do.

Jonathan glanced at you as you held your hand over your belly. “W-What?”

Morgan reached a hand out as he got closer. “Just like your wife, Jonathan… You wouldn’t kill a pregnant woman like those boys did.” 

Jonathan seemed to dissociate, staring at you with such a hurt expression as Morgan leapt forward, grabbing the gun from Jonathan’s hands and tossing it across the grass. He pushed Jonathan to the ground, pinning his hands behind his back. You let out a breath as you felt yourself grow tired. Emily caught you before you fell the rest of the way to the ground, holding you close to her body as she screamed for a medic. 

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” Emily gently rocked you, “you’re going to be fine.”

“I’m sorry,” you muttered, tears running down your cheeks.

Your eyes were heavy as you attempted to pry them open.

You let out a shaky breath as you finally pulled your eyes open, the smell of disinfectant hit you first, followed by the sounds of beeping. You were in the hospital. You glanced down at your arm, an IV stuck in your arm while a pulse oximeter was clipped to your finger. Despite the fact the doctor had prescribed pain medication, you still felt like shit and your shoulder was killing you.

A soft noise caught your attention and you glanced at the chair next to your bed, Spencer sound asleep in a chair with a hospital blanket draped over him. You smiled softly as you saw the flowers, balloons and plushies littered around your room, most likely a courtesy of Penelope.

“She’s awake,” Morgan smiled, standing in the doorway. 

You grinned at him, “Hi, Derek.”

Morgan slowly walked over to your bed. “Feeling okay, pretty girl?” Morgan gently grabbed your hand, giving it a soft squeeze.

“I’m okay,” you replied. You almost didn’t want to ask but you knew you had to, “...is the baby okay?”

“Your baby is fine,” Morgan replied with a soft smile. You let out a breath of relief as you placed a hand over your tummy protectively. “...You scared the life out of everyone though.”

“I know,” you sighed.

“Especially your lover boy,” Morgan said, “he hasn’t left your side.”

“Sounds like my Spencer,” you laughed softly. 

“Y/N?” Spencer’s voice was laced with sleep as he opened his eyes. He quickly got up, ditching the blanket on the floor to tend to you.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Morgan quickly said before leaving the room.

Spencer’s warm hands cupped your face as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, “I thought I lost you, Y/N.” He let out a breath, pulling away to stare at your face and stroke your cheeks with his thumbs. You reached a hand up to grip his forearm.

“I’m sorry–”

“You don’t need to–”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” Tears formed in your eyes as you stared up at him, searching for any kind of anger or resentment. There wasn’t any, he could never be mad at you.

“I wouldn’t have let you come on the case,” he replied after a beat. “I wouldn’t have let you leave the house.”

“That’s why I didn’t tell you… I knew you would be protective– more protective,” you corrected with a soft smile. 

“I’m aware,” Spencer pulled his lips into a tight smile. “You know the odds of… complications are higher in the first trimester, angel. You should have told me,” he frowned.

“I know, Spence,” you sighed. “I just wanted to make sure I was in the clear before I told you… I understand being shot isn’t necessarily helping with that but–”

“I understand,” he replied. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

You stared at him for a moment, “are you happy?”

“Happy?”

“That I’m pregnant? I know we’re not married and our jobs are crazy but–”

Spencer cut you off by pressing a kiss to your lips, he pulled away slightly, “I’ve never been more happy,” he whispered.

You beamed with happiness, a bright smile tugging on your lips. Spencer hesitantly pressed a hand to your belly, his thumb stroking your tiny bump.

“Penelope thinks it’s a girl,” you muttered.

“...What do you think?” He asked curiously.

“I think she might be right,” you giggled softly.

“You know you can’t actually tell yet,” Spencer said and you rolled your eyes playfully.

“You asked what I thought!” you retorted.

He laughed softly, “Yes, you’re right, you’re right.”

“Mmm, did that taste like poison to admit?”

“Are gunshot victims supposed to be this mouthy?”

a/n: phew! i hope you guys liked it <3 i know i disappeared for a hot minute but here she is!!!

[blaydie]

ᥫ᭡ HOW THEY WOULD REACT TO YOU FALLING ASLEEP FIRST DURING A MOVIE — Aventurine, Blade, Boothill, Dan Heng, Dr. Ratio, Jing Yuan + GN reader.

Word count: 1.6K

Aventurine:

Booking out a cinema for a date was something you had gotten used to. Whenever there’s a new movie out that piques your interest, he makes a reservation in the snap of two fingers. Now in the secluded cinema room, you sit in the recliner seats and beam at the big screen while the ads play.

“My drink is here if you want it.” Aventurine pats the cup holder and you nod, shoving your tub of candy his way.

“Take some.”

“I’m okay. Slow down though, you’ll end up with a stomach ache.” 

“Won’t.” You murmur, snatching your tub back and cradling it to your chest.

“Will.” He responds quietly, grinning from ear to ear. Both of you know he’s right. It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve done it. 

The lights illuminating the walkways dim, the room silent. A flash of colour pops back onto the screen, followed by the opening of the soundtrack. You slide your hand over the armrest and link your fingers with his, giving his hand a firm squeeze before devoting your attention span to the beginning scene. 

Nearing an hour into the movie, the sound of your breath picks up in volume, casting Aventurine’s attention to your sleeping body. He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth and pinches your skin, waking you from your slumber. 

“Come. Sit here.” He speaks in a soft tone, patting the space between his legs when your eyes eventually peel open.

Blade:

“Well?” Blade glances at you, pointing the TV remote towards you as if it was a sword.

“You want me to pick something?”

“I don’t typically indulge in things like this.” Blade passes ownership of the remote and rests back on the sofa, his feet resting on the coffee table. 

Since Blade had been going through a tough time, you insisted that you’d be the one to take care of him. As long as he had some company, that’s all that was necessary. Selecting a random movie from the top 100, you slump beside him, your eyes keenly flicking from the screen to his figure. 

Twiddling with his bandages, his attention was directed elsewhere. He had no idea what the demand was with these videos of people pretending to be someone they’re not. It’s more likely to entertain a toddler with a low attention span than it is an unamused adult. 

Rolling his head to face you, he recognises the way your body is slumped—you always wind up sleeping in strange positions like this. He doesn’t care to wake you, he’d much rather sit in silence with you by his side. Switching the TV off, he places the remote on the arm of the sofa and lies you down, your head resting on his lap.

It was refreshing to be vulnerable for a change when he knew no prying eyes were lurking on him. Everything hurts, from his physical body to the thoughts he yearns to rid of—he just learned how to live with it, yet numbing the pain doesn’t remove it. You try your best, and that effort doesn’t go unappreciated.

“How can you be so peaceful?” Blade mumbles, the sensation of his body beginning to relax kicking in. “I almost envy you.”

Boothill:

Throwing on one of his old favourites, Boothill cosies up with you on the sofa. He rests his head against yours, completely entranced by the scenes playing before him despite already watching the movie countless times. He finds that sharing his favourites of the past with you would give them new meaning, allowing him to continue enjoying what he used to without feeling the guilt he’s used to. 

Even though you want to entertain him by speaking about it after the credits roll, you couldn’t make it to the end, your eyelids are too heavy to remain open. You had fallen asleep during the last half an hour, not even the obnoxious noise of the guns could startle you. 

“That’s right! Get that motherfudger!” Boothill exclaims, pointing to the TV screen. “He’s the real bad guy. ‘Shame how he had so much potential.”

Eventually, the cowboy manages to de-arm his rival, pressing him against the floor with a gun pressed to his temple. They remained in that position, continuing their squabble until the sheriff arrived. Boothill was sure to inform you of all the small details you may not have picked up on, completely unaware you were no longer conscious.

As the end credits finally hit, he rotates his head side to side and lets out a yawn, brushing up your arm with his icy, metallic hand. 

“You’ve been quiet. What do you think, hey?” He taps your cheek, receiving a whine in response. 

Squinting his eyes, he turns to face you and sees your peaceful state. Your eyes are closed tightly and your hand is still wrapped around his index finger, entirely knocked out. Now realising he had been talking to himself for the entire time, he snickers and takes you in his arms, redirecting himself from the sofa to the staircase.

“Let’s get you to bed now. We can talk about it tomorrow instead.” 

Dan Heng:

The archive room was always a serene environment. Dimly lit, warm, and strangely comforting. Resting on the makeshift bed, you hug your knees to your chest and observe as the projector plays. Dan Heng often shied away from taking breaks, but after some extensive begging, you managed to reach middle ground. 

“This won’t be as exciting as you’d hoped it would be,” Dan warns, cracking his knuckles before resting back against the pillows. He had been extremely busy all day, the exhaustion now catching up on him. 

“I don’t mind. As long as we get to spend some time together, I’m happy.”

While it’s not the type of movie you would personally choose to watch, he claims that it would greatly assist him with his research if you’re going to persist in pestering him about spending time with you. 

Seeing him in loungewear was almost an eerie sight; you’re so used to seeing him in his daily attire. Growing uncomfortable from your original position, you lie down on your side, accidentally slipping away into a dream before you knew it. 

Not long after you, Dan’s body grew weak, his head sliding down your shoulder with an arm loosely wrapped around you. Both of you were fast asleep, the rest of the movie playing on mute.

Dr. Ratio:

The documentary intro music sounds out from the speakers, the therapeutic sound of rain thudding against the windows in the background. Veritas was fond of educational pieces of media, though he has a strict selection that he engages in. Before he watches anything with you, he skims through it first himself to fact-check if the information it contains is valid. Those who post outdated research get under his skin; it’s often a reason for common misconceptions in society because of how many people watch things like this without a second doubt. 

In the armchair, you curled up between his legs, your head snuggled against his chest. The two of you were in nothing but your nightwear, the crackle of the fireplace burning to keep the living room warm. Veritas himself was like a heater, providing a perfect temperature for you to close your eyes and…

Fall asleep—which is exactly what you wound up doing. Less than ten minutes in and you were out like a light. His strong arms held you tightly, his lips curving up as your breathing pattern became slower. 

“Goodnight. Sleep well.” He muttered, rubbing your shoulders gently before placing his lips on your forehead. “It’s nonsense anyway. You’re not missing out.”

“What type of fool makes a documentary on something so useless?” He grunts, turning off the TV and rising to his feet, your body clung to him. “Perhaps we should’ve watched your choice.”

Jing Yuan:

“You? Want to watch a movie with me?” Jing Yuan muses, placing his hand over his heart. “I’m flattered. It must be something extremely special considering how desperate you are to get me—”

“Shush! It’s going to start now! Hurry up and get in.” You pat his side of the mattress and he dramatically sighs, slinging his shirt to the other side of the room. 

It’s safe to say that you and Jing Yuan have an extremely different taste in movies. While you adore movies which contain thrill, he prefers to sleep through them and then claim he was awake when the ending scene finally arrives. He’s notorious for it. Judging by the way he wrapped the blanket around himself and the way he’s rubbing his face against your hair, you can practically predict the outcome. 

That’s until you realise how awful the movie you picked out was. The plot was absurd, and the CGI itself was a tragedy—never mind the script. After watching the family cat transform into an alien, you briefly closed your eyes and drifted off into a nap. 

Jing Yuan, on the other hand, was horrified at the acting on the screen. Having to ensure himself this was not the result of some twisted dream, he clears his throat and pinches your cheek. When he receives no response, he lets out a scoff. A smirk dances onto his face as he kisses your exposed neck, just enough attention to stir you from your slumber. 

“Congratulations. Were you truly that eager to beat me at something that you put on this piece of rubbish?” Jing Yuan points towards the TV, the mutant alien cat currently doubling in size and seizing the city. “I suppose this makes us even. You slept first.”

“… It had 5% on rotten tomatoes. It was meant to be good.”

“My love, having a percentage that low is not a “good” thing. The higher the percentage, the better the reviews.” Jing Yuan’s low rumble of laughter emerges due to your misunderstanding, now draping a section of the blanket over you to keep you close. 

[perlelune]

Creep | Oliver Quick

Though you can’t grasp exactly what, you know something is very off with your boyfriend’s peculiar new friend.

Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, Stalking, Voyeurism, Cheating, Coercion, Blackmail, Drinking, Smoking, Unhealthy Relationship Dynamic

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

Felix’s long digits drum over your back as he pouts, “You really brought me here just to study, babe?” His raspy, flirtatious tone tugs your lips skyward. Still, your attention doesn’t stray from your laptop screen. Sentences bleed from your fingertips at a quick-fire pace. A little under three thousand words on Bentham’s theory of utilitarianism, due by Monday. The topic isn’t exactly thrilling but you have to hand it over in time.

“If I don’t ace this essay, I’m going to fail this class,” you absently reply. Failure. The one thing you literally can’t afford right now, though you forbear sharing that particular bit with Felix. Best he perceives your single-minded determination as a core stare of your character rather than what it actually is…a necessity, one born of dire circumstances.

He takes a long drag off his cigarette. Grey smoke floats around you, smudging the words on your screen. You repress tears as your eyes burn. You wished he’d curb the nasty habit. You’ve dropped hints before.

But no one tells Felix Catton what to do. Many would kill to even breathe the same nicotin-infused air as him. Felix is the sun and everyone on campus craves to be in his orbit, eager for the slightest chance to bask in his warmth, shower in his light.

You’re no different. The day he asked you out, a little over a year ago, you pinched yourself twice to make sure you weren’t dreaming. Felix Catton wanted…you? It couldn’t be real. 

This was the boy you held in your heart for a decade, the only one you ever had eyes for.

And while your relationship suffered its share of hardships, namely Felix’s wandering eyes, you couldn’t picture life without him at your side.

He’s your everything.

He could hurt you a thousand times and you’d forgive him each of those times.

Felix’s bare shoulder grazes yours as he states, “They won’t fail you, not with who your dad is.”

Your stomach knots with his comment. Still, you shrug, pretending away the guilt steadily gnawing your insides.

“I don’t want to get special treatment just because of my family name, Felix,” you say, trying your best to sound nonchalant.

Though his smile never falters, his jaw ticks. “And I do?”

The ice in his tone scatters in your veins. Immediately, you discard your homework, concerned gaze finding his.

“I’m not saying that.” When Felix doesn’t respond, panic roars inside you. You touch his exposed chest to bring his attention to you. He doesn’t move. “I didn’t say that.”

A thick blanket of silence engulfs the room and your airways constrict. It feels as if your heart is on the verge of collapse as you wait for a reaction from your boyfriend, his chestnut gaze glued to the ceiling.

His head turns to you slowly. He releases a large puff of smoke in your face. Tears rush to your eyes, filling them to the brim.

Felix shrugs.

“It sounded like you did. A little. But that’s okay.” His tone is mellow in that way that oozes displeasure. “I’m just a legacy kid getting by on his trust fund and good looks, right?”

Your mouth quakes and he bursts out a chuckle. He cups your cheek, a wide grin breaking onto his face. “I’m just fucking with you, babe.”

You swallow your budding tears, wiping your eyes swiftly as Felix reaches around you to put out his cig in the ashtray.

You punch him in the chest, your own laughter bubbling out.

“You’re an arsehole.”

His grin expands. Twining your fingers with his, Felix’s tone gets softer.

“I wanted to ask…” He trails off, brown gaze clinging to yours. “Can Ollie come to the party you and Anabel are throwing tonight?”

You tilt your head in befuddlement. “Ollie?”

He traces the lines in your palm, adding absently, “Yeah, Oliver. I told you about him. Saved my arse when my bike broke.”

“Right, bike guy,” you say, remembrance hitting you. You tilt your head. “What’s he like?”

Felix sighs.

“He doesn't have too many friends.  He's also had a rough upbringing. So I thought we could help him a little, you know?” You study him. However casual your boyfriend attempts to sound, you instantly recognize what this is. Yet another try at playing knight in shining armor. Whoever this Oliver guy is, he’s now become your boyfriend’s side project. His charity case possibly.

“He’s not like us so we could try to be nice.”

Not like us. You mask your discomfort with a bright smile. 

About a year ago, your dad’s company filed for bankruptcy. Thankfully your scholarship still allows you to attend Oxford, but your lifestyle has drastically changed. No more shopping sprees. No more casual leisure trips to Europe. No more frivolous spendings with daddy’s black card.

The last straw was when your father emptied every account, including your trust, and left the country without as much as a goodbye text. Since those events, your mother has taken refuge at the bottom of a whisky bottle. You can barely get a hold of her these days.

So not only are you penniless, you might as well be an orphan. 

Felix is all you have left. You can’t risk him finding out the truth. He can never know about the part time jobs you’ve had to take to cover tuition costs or the small flat your mum had to move into after your father had to sell the family manor. He might think you’re beneath him now, working class, destitute. Or worse, he might pity you, treat you like a charity case too. 

You follow the curve of his dark brow with your thumb, sweeping over his silver stud.

“Hm, sure. I can be nice,” you promise.

“I know you can,” he teases, large hands pulling on your thighs to spread you across his lap.

You squeal before scolding him, “Felix…I really really need to finish this essay.”

His eyes darken with lust as he licks his lips. He wiggles his hips, causing the bulge in his jeans to rub against your clothed center. Your breath hitches. “And I really really need you to take care of this for me.” His hoarse, desperate inflection makes your core clench. His palms run over your thighs beneath your short dress. “Just five minutes? Come on, I’ve been hard for like an hour, babe.”

He hums, already playfully fiddling with the edge of your lace panties.

“It’s your fault for wearing this fucking pink dress. You know the way your ass looks in it drives me crazy.”

You resolve crumbles beneath Felix’s heated stare. You can never tell him no. And he knows that. Releasing a deep sigh, you relent.

“Five minutes,” you offer.

He slides one finger inside your weeping core. As you draw a sharp breath, Felix beams.

“It’s all I need,” he coos.

The party’s at his height, loud music blasting from the gigantic speakers and glow sticks waving in the pitch blackness of the underground cellar. You thread your way between tipsy students, carrying two cups of beer in your hands. 

As you reach the VIP corner, you hand Annabel her drink. The redhead mumbles her thanks as she bobs her head to the music. You peer at your surroundings, glad to see everyone having fun. 

It’s a frank success. Pride trickles inside you at that. It’s been hard collecting pockets of free time to put it together between classes and assignments. But you did it. 

Truthfully, you’re also craving some fun tonight. All you’ve done lately is studying. You miss the days when you were more carefree, unconcerned about your grades deciding the course of your future.

You glance down at your watch, scowling as you notice the time. He was supposed to be here three hours ago.

“Where’s Felix?” you ask Venetia. Your boyfriend’s sister  lazily opens her eyes, a drunken smile spreading onto her lips. She shrugs. “Don’t know. Haven’t seen him around.” 

You pivot to the rest of the group. 

“Have you guys seen him tonight?”

Annabel shakes her head apologetically while Farleigh brings his blunt to his mouth with a taunting smile.

“Desperate much?” he teases.

“Farleigh, come on,” Anabel chastises. She bumps her shoulder into yours, her expression sympathetic. “Don’t mind him, you know he’s always a jerk after a few drinks.”

Farleigh sighs. “Darling, you know I love you. It was just a joke.”

“A joke, right…” you mumble. Your cheeks heat though you try not to let your feelings show. Still, Farleigh’s words linger in your head. Maybe you’re being too clingy. It’s something you should mind.  What if you became too needy and Felix grew bored of you? It’s not like he wouldn’t find a replacement for you in a heartbeat.

You lie back on the plush couch, sipping from your beer cup as your friends continue their chat. The conversation has long since stopped making sense, fueled by drug-inspired ramblings. Your attention is halved by your straying train of thoughts, the current whereabouts of your boyfriend still at the forefront of your brain.

Another hour flies by before Felix’s towering frame finally pierces through the crowd. A smaller boy trails behind him, his expression mirroring that of a lost puppy. He adjusts his glasses, awkwardly avoiding the drunken bodies around him. The word “Sorry” doesn’t stop pouring from his mouth. 

You realize this must be Oliver. Astonishment flows through you. This isn’t the kind of company Felix traditionally keeps. But you elect to try your best to be nice and welcoming.

It’s what Felix asked of you after all. Besides, entering a new group of people cannot be easy, your tight-knit circle having known each other since kindergarten for some.

You don’t miss Anabel’s fleeting,  condescending glance as she takes in Oliver though. Getting her assent to let him come had been a hassle, as she regards him as some weird, scholarship kid who’d just bring the mood down. But you insisted and she finally caved.

You trade a meaningful look with her, silently nudging her to be nice. The redhead practically rolls her eyes but squeezes her lips shut. Annabel may be one of your best friends but even you’re aware that she can be quite snobbish at times. 

A sullen expression decorates your face as Felix enters the private booth. 

“You’re late,” you blurt out. Farleigh snickers behind you and your cheeks flare. But everything around you fades as Felix grabs your face and presses feverish lips over yours. Your irritation melts in the heat of the passionate kiss. 

When he frees your mouth, his thumb runs over your swollen bottom lip as he explains casually, “Yeah we were just hanging out and we lost track of time.”

He then introduces the shy boy.

“That’s Ollie.”

“Nice to meet you,” he stutters.

“Likewise,’ you reply smiling.

You gauge him. Beneath the large glasses, you note the slanted blue eyes and soft, round boyish features. Felix’s friend is cute. If only he weren’t so painfully awkward. 

“You should sit with us. There’s plenty of space,” you say. 

Felix draws you onto his lap as he sits. Oliver takes a nervous seat next to the two of you. His eyes keep rising to Felix, as if seeking perpetual approval from your boyfriend. You’re a little perplexed. Farleigh hands Felix a spliff and he lets his hand rest on your thigh while taking a long drag from it.

“So, where are you from exactly?” you ask Oliver.

His gaze on you and Felix is sharp, somehow constantly darting to where your boyfriend’s holding you.

“Prescott,” he answers.

You mull over his response. It’s a few hours away from Oxford. You don’t know much about it. Though, based on what Felix implied about the way he grew up, you expected him to originate from a rougher area. Prescott doesn’t seem too awful.

“Prescott? They must be proud of you back home, especially your parents.”

“Probably not, actually.”

Your curiosity is piqued. “Why are you saying that?”

Oliver shrugs. His eyes find the floor before meeting yours again.

“Just don’t talk to them much,” he mutters. “They got problems and stuff…”

You slant your head. “Problems?”

Felix’s hand tightens atop your thigh. “Babe, that’s enough prying, don’t you think?”

“I’m just making conversation, trying to get to know him.”

“You’re embarrassing him, babe.”

Oliver’s blue gaze lifts to yours, his face unreadable.

“No, it’s fine,” he says, though you detect a slight edge to his timbre that wasn’t there before. A small smile tugs his lips. “I don’t mind questions. Got nothing to hide.”

You nod. An icy tickle blooms at the base of your spine, scattering outward as Oliver’s intense focus doesn’t leave you. You turn away, shifting your attention to your boyfriend. Throughout the entire night, a strange sensation thunders through you, like the lightning before the storm. You can’t explain it. It’s like the world shifted off its axis, though you can’t pinpoint the reason.

Thankfully the strangeness is cast aside by Felix’s soft lips and heady, masculine scent. As the party goes on in the background, the two of you sneak away. You end up making out in a dark corner, Felix’s greedy hands slipping beneath your short skirt to grab a fistful of your ass. He pinches your flesh and you squeal.

A warm chuckle spills from his lips as he peppers tender kisses alongside your neck.

“Let’s go back to my dorm,” he whispers.

You readily agree. He takes your hand and the two of you hitch a ride back to campus. The two of you giggle in the backseat of the car every time the driver berates you for getting too handsy with each other. You laugh it off all the way back to his room, lips locking as you cross the threshold. You jump to wrap your legs around Felix’s tapered waist. He purrs, his hands latching around your hips, pulling you closer. He pushes you against a wall, tracing a scorching path in the valley between your breasts. Moaning, you toss your head back. 

As your eyes flutter however, you catch sight of a silhouette standing outside Felix’s window. Your heart bounces, your eyes growing saucer-wide. You gasp and leap away from Felix. 

“What the fuck?” he curses as you race to the window. Chest pulsing with your quick heartbeats, you peel the window open to peek outside. The cold night air whisks inside the room. Goosebumps break out on your skin.

Your gaze wanders, searching the darkness. Confusion swells within you as you find nothing. Nothing but greenery, the same trees and grass flanking your path whenever you stroll through campus. 

“There was someone outside, w-watching us,” you stammer.

Felix’s frustrated breath grazes the back of your neck. “Babe, there’s no one out there.”

You squint, dumbfounded when nothing but pitch blackness stares back at you. For a minute, you really believed someone stood there. In fact, whoever they were bore a peculiar resemblance to…

You catch yourself before finishing the thought.

Now that’s just crazy.

“But I saw…”

Felix shifts your body towards him. He cups your cheeks and rasps, “Hey. Hey, look at me. There’s no one but us here.” His lips collide with yours. He starts groping you again and you push him off  you, stunned that he wants to have sex at a time like this.

“No, Felix, I-I can’t.”

He stumbles back and scoffs, “Oh.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you inquire, glowering at him.

His gaze flicks over you, his expression cold. “All that teasing just to leave me high and dry?”

“Felix, wait…”

He avoids your touch, collecting his jacket from the bed when your fingers stretch towards him.

“It’s fine. I’m just gonna have a smoke. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Your stomach sinks.

“O-Okay,” you say as your hand retreats to your side.

The door slams shut and you collapse on Felix’s bed. Your eyes veer to the window once more. You could have sworn you caught a glimpse of someone. Maybe all those late nights writing essays and revising for the upcoming exams are slowly catching up to you, dragging you to the brink of madness.

Felix doesn’t call you the following day. Of course he doesn’t. You broke the mood. You acted weird. What reason does he have to want to be around you again? It’s bad enough you neglected him in favor of your assignments and club activities for the last few weeks. Now you can’t even enjoy the sparse time you have together.

Still, you flip your phone open all day long, longing for a word from him, any trivial, insignificant word.

You get nothing. 

You gloomily drag your feet around campus and somehow find your way in one of the empty student lounges, save Farleigh and Venetia. Lying flat on the carpeted floor, eyes glued to the ceiling, the two of them are sharing a spliff. You wedge yourself between them, lying on your back also. You steal the roll from Venetia’s fingers and bring it to your lips. Your throat burns and you cough as you inhale a puff. Venetia’s lips curve upward as your eyes water.

“You gotta take it easy the first time,” she says, amusement lighting her olive orbs. “Tiny inhales.” She shows you how and you mimic her gestures. You go slower the second time and a pleasant numbness sets into your limbs. Your eyes shut. You kind of get it now. For the first time in several weeks, your mind’s almost at rest, your stormy thoughts quieted. 

“You don’t smoke,” Farleigh notes near you.

“I am today.”

“You guys will be fine,” Venetia assures. “You’re always fine.”

Your eyes open, settling on the pristine white ceiling. 

“I fucking hate him sometimes.” You pause, sucking a deep breath. “But I love him more.”

“Yep, that’s Felix,” they utter in unison.

You heave out a weary sigh. They grew up with him. They know better than anyone, how sweet and wonderful he can be, but also cruel and careless sometimes.

Just like the sun, Felix’s light can also burn whoever gets too close. 

For a while, the three of you hang out in silence, the spliff switching hands every once in a while. Eventually, each of them rises, leaving you to your mopey thoughts. 

Before taking his leave however, Farleigh whispers in your ear,

“Oh and darling, next time you wear a rental…make sure the price tag isn’t sticking out. It gives you away.”

You sit up immediately. A smile dances on the boy’s lips as he disappears. You grab the back of your neck, face warming as you feel the tag poking through the collar of your shirt.

You nearly forgot you’re due to return the designer piece in two days’ time. You can’t believe someone noticed. Though you suppose if anybody would, it’d be Farleigh. Nothing gets past his keen eye. You surmise it was a necessity with the way he grew up. Learning to read people, knowing what makes them tick, being able to spot a pretender from a mile away…which you are now.

Maybe it’s ludicrous, acting like you can still afford to live like this, like your life wasn’t turned upside down.

Still, you can’t fathom the alternative. The judgement, the pity, from your friends…from Felix. The thought alone makes you sick. The echo of Anabel’s voice as she disparaged Oliver’s background a few days ago never left you. 

Dunno what Felix even sees in him. He’s some weird scholarship kid who buys his clothes at Oxfam.

That was harsh…and made you wonder what your best friend would have to say about your current situation. 

So you’d rather lie, even if you sometimes look like a fool doing so.

You swallow a wide lungful, willing yourself to be calm. You repeat the mantra, again and again. You’re okay. You’re okay. You just need to keep your grades up and get through the semester.

The rest of the week is hell. Felix all but ignores you, not even sparing you a glance when he brushes past you in the university corridors. The itch to talk to him sears inside you. Unfortunately, he’s always surrounded by a swarm of people, the center of attention as usual, making approaching him near impossible. You can’t picture bringing up your relationship problems in front of so many eyes.

Besides, you don’t want to project desperation, Farleigh’s pointed gibe still resonating in your mind. You need to play it cool, wrap yourself in a disguise of indifference…despite the way you wither away every second he’s not texting you back. 

The agonizing wait is made worse by him. He’s everywhere now. Wherever Felix goes, he goes too. Oliver Quick has essentially become your boyfriend’s shadow. Whether in class, at pub meetups, at parties, the quiet, nervous boy  never abandons Felix’s side, always peering up at him with those round baby blues of his, a strange mix of admiration, devotion and…something else you can’t pinpoint etched on his face.

It’s sort of creepy in your opinion. 

Though you’d never say it aloud. For some reason, Oliver’s his new toy. And you’re acutely aware of how Felix is with his toys. He plays with them for a while then moves on to the next fancy, shiny new one. He did it to Eddie before. Now Oliver. 

And maybe it’ll be your turn one day…if you don’t do something. 

It’s how you end up in front of his dorm one night, already tipsy from half a bottle of vodka. Liquid courage to get you to knock on his door. It’s pathetic. Of course it is, but you just can’t wait anymore. 

You take a deep breath, closing your eyes and shaking off your nerves. Your knuckles are less than an inch from the door when a broken whimper reaches you from the other side of Felix’s door. 

Brows furrowing, you place your ear against the wood. You hear a moan this time. Deep, distinctive, masculine…familiar. Your heart stops. 

You plummet to your knees, peering through the keyhole. You feel wrong for doing so, for invading Felix’s privacy like this. But guilt crumbles beneath the weight of heartbreak at what you witness. 

You almost find yourself wishing you hadn’t looked. Almost.

Rivulets of anguish flow down your face as you watch your best friend and boyfriend lip-locked, practically swallowing each other’s faces. Their clothes aren’t off but the urgent way they’re grinding against each other is a dead giveaway as to what’s to come.

Legs trembling, you stumble back from the door. You shouldn’t have come. This was a mistake. You’re a fool.

You drunkenly stagger through the corridors, clinging to the walls each time you almost trip over your own feet.

You wind up slumped on some stairs, too inebriated to carry yourself much further. Your lids sag as you exhale. More hot tears spill down your cheeks. Your chest aches, a knife piercing through your heart as the memory of Annabel and Felix lost in the throes of passion fleets across your brain. Why are you even shocked? It’s not like you never caught Anabel leering at him while she thought you weren’t looking. And it’s not like Felix is some kind of saint. Still, you can’t help but feel massively betrayed. You thought you meant more to him. You thought they wouldn’t…not with each other.

When your eyes flutter open, you find a pair of intense cobalt orbs studying you.

“Oliver…” you mumble. In your drunken stupor, you don’t bother wondering how he got here, seemingly materializing from thin hair.

He hunkers in front of you. His scent tickles your nose and it twitches. The smell of his cologne is so strikingly reminiscent of the one Felix wears. A wave of emotion engulfs you. Sobs shake your frame as you shrink against the wall.

Oliver’s gaze rises to your weeping face as he questions, “Are you okay?”

“M’fine…” you slur, wiping your snotty nose. You must look a fright, a pathetic heap of tears aimlessly wandering the university corridors.

He tilts his head. “You don’t look fine.”

You consider Oliver. He is cute, which you noticed before. And in the dimly lit stairway, his blue eyes burn even brighter. You loathe that Felix is allowed to hurt you the way he did and can just…keep on. If your friends aren’t off-limits, why would his be?

You bat your lashes at Oliver.

“You got any alcohol?”

His lips curve upward as he rasps, “Would you like me to have alcohol?”

How did you end up there? The question keeps swirling in your head as Oliver’s mouth hungrily devours yours, his arm snaking around your waist to pull you closer. He trails fevered kisses down your neck and you squirm. As his teeth sink into the flesh at the crook of your neck, you let out a sharp cry. You tug on his dark locks and Oliver growls against your skin. The pain mixes with pleasure in your haze. His tongue then circles where he punctured your flesh, dragging slowly as an elated purr rises from his chest. His hard-on presses into your thigh. Alarm bells ring inside your mind.

It’s all a little too real, you realize. You got carried away. You draw back, pushing against his chest. “Oliver, wait…”

You might as well have said nothing, your words falling to unlistening ears as Oliver grabs your wrists and nudges you on the bed on your back. You peer up at him. Lust darkens his blue gaze, making him appear almost inhuman in the darkness.

Your mouth wobbles.

Pinning your wrists at your sides, Oliver kisses you senseless. Soon his lips are tracing a scorching path down your body, his hands moving to peel off your short skirt and panties.

His attentive gaze doesn’t leave yours as he sluggishly drags the tiny layer of lace down your legs.

His throat bobs when your bare cunt is exposed to him.

Biting his bottom lip, Oliver crawls his way to your core. Your legs quake. There is a strange glow in his eyes that sends chills down your back. 

“Oli-” you start, but the protest dwindles in a helpless whimper when Oiver buries his head between your thighs and flicks his tongue against your bundle of nerves. Oliver’s firm hands clasp around your thighs, keeping you in place when you attempt to close your legs. He greedily eats you out, fingers digging into your soft flesh. He suckles your tender button in his mouth and your eyes roll back. Your fingers get lost in his dark mane as your back arches against the sheets. Oliver’s feverish tongue sweeps around your folds and you grow weaker, slumping against the pillow. 

Quickly, stars dangle in your vision. Your fists tighten around the sheets while your legs turn to jelly. A long breath flows from your lips. 

You don’t remember ever coming that hard before, not even with Felix.

Tingles are still dancing over your legs as a sliver of clarity returns to you.

Oliver’s tongue slowly moves, collecting the remnants of your essence off his lips as a look of sheer bliss decorates his face. You shiver.

You try to move off the bed. “I think that’s enough,” you say, folding your knees.

Oliver’s mouth quirks lopsidedly. “Oh, we’re nowhere near done, luv.”

Much quicker than you, Oliver slithers his way up your body and cages you beneath his frame. He steals your lips in a hungry kiss, trapping your wrists above your head. His fingers are tight enough that you just know it’ll bruise. You taste your own bittersweet flavor on his tongue. His hand creeps under your shirt, groping your tits. He plants urgent pecks on your face, dragging his teeth along your jaw.

“Oliver, please…”  you beseech, shock making your voice shake.

He sinks a finger between your slick walls. Your stomach tightens.

Oliver releases your swollen lips and twists his finger inside your core. Your breath hitches.

He smiles down at you.

“But you’re gushing down there, luv. This is what you want.”

Your face warms. You hate that he’s right, that your body clings to him, making space you wish it didn’t…almost inviting his actions.

But Oliver’s mouth and hands are far too good at knowing which buttons to press to turn you into a whimpering mess. Shame pools in your gut as sharp keens leave your lips.

He pumps inside you at a steady pace, his thumb teasing your heap of sensitive nerves every once in a while, pressing until you cry out. He adds another finger and the air in your lungs falters. His hands feel everywhere at once, his teeth and mouth scattering marks all over your body.

He doesn’t stop until you clench around him, soaking his hand with your juices when you shatter with a high-pitched wail.

You crash over the pillows. Your body is still coming off the high. Half-lidded eyes blindly rise to the ceiling. Oliver yanking off his shirt and discarding his pants doesn’t register, not fully, the entire bottle of vodka you emptied before making your mind slow.

He’s suddenly inside you, his thick length splitting you apart as he places his forearms besides your head.

Your lips part in a quiet shout. It feels like if you might break, your walls aching as they stretch around him.

He begins to rail into you, each of his thrusts blunt and animalistic. As if he were possessed by some beast. You know it’s ludicrous. But as the lewd clapping of your damp skin against his rises each time he buries himself balls-deep inside you…it’s how you feel. Like a wild animal somehow broke free and started rutting into you.

Your head lolls against the pillows, your thoughts going blank every time he grazes your sweet spots. Your fingernails rake down his back. 

“Does Felix fuck you like this?” he rasps. He presses his chest against yours, his cock hitting an angle that draws a lengthy moan from you. A crooked smile ghosts over Oliver’s lips. “Or maybe more like this…” 

His warm breath fans over your earshell.

“Tell me luv… How do our cocks compare?”

When you don’t respond, he roughly shoves inside you, his fingers cinching around your windpipe. You gasp in horror, gaping at him through tear-filled eyes.

“Answer me,” he instructs, his voice deeper than before.

“Y-You’re bigger than he is,” you sputter, struggling to get the words out with his hand squeezing your throat. 

A peculiar blend of excitement and disappointment swims in his gaze when you answer.

You weakly claw at his chest, squirming beneath him. He doesn’t let you go, bending to shove his tongue in your mouth. He drags his tongue over your face, licking your hot tears. Sobs jostle your frame.

“Oliver, please,” you repeat.

He shushes you, framing your chin. His thumb follows the outline of your bottom lip, bleeding and swollen from all his rough kisses. 

“Stop fighting it. Be a good girl.” He showers tender pecks across your collarbone before softly whispering against your temple, “Or I’ll tell Felix everything. That you came onto me, begging me to fuck you.” His devilish smile sears into your skin. “I’ll tell him what a good little slut you were for me.”

Your stomach drops. Oliver collects your tears with his fingertips. He shoves his fingers in his mouth, emitting a throaty moan at the taste of your despair. He then dips those same fingers in your mouth, his pelvis snapping into yours.

“It’s beautiful, how much you love him,” Oliver mumbles, growing harder inside you as a fresh wave of tears brim beneath your lashes. “You’re beautiful. I can see why he always comes back.” He rests his forehead against yours, a mischievous smile dancing on his lips. 

“Maybe I’ll keep you for myself when this is all done.”

The awakening in the early morning is rude, the wicked headache and ache in your limbs reminding you of last night’s events right away. Strips of sunlight sneak between the curtains, caressing your face. The usually pleasant warmth does nothing to soothe your frayed nerves. Your stomach clenches as you peer at your side. Oliver’s completely naked, only wearing the silver chain always around his neck. His arm is lazily spread over your belly. You don’t dare move, fearing he’ll wake up. 

What would you even say?

This is a disaster. You somehow ended up in Oliver’s room and…had sex with him. 

You swallow a shaky sob as your gaze travels low. Your panties are torn, which you didn’t notice last night. At least your clothes can still be worn, lying in a messy heap at the bottom of the bed. Carefully, you writhe your way out of Oliver’s hold and grab your clothes. 

You hastily put your skirt and shirt back on, trying not to cry when you realize you’re going to have to walk back to your dorm without your knickers. Heat rushes to your cheeks. 

You toss a glance behind you, relieved when you find him still sleeping soundly. 

You climb off the bed. Your heart leaps when the mattress squeaks as you rise. 

Pulse quickening, you head for the door. 

Pain radiates through your lower body when you move. You stagger the rest of the way, constantly tugging on your short skirt as you pray not to encounter any strong gust of wind on the way back.

Before leaving,  you look back. 

Oliver’s still sprawled on his side on the bed but his eyes are wide open now. 

No word leaves his mouth as he studies you in silence.

A wide, lazy smile slowly unfans on his lips. 

Your blood turns to ice. Fumbling with the doorknob, you scurry outside the door.

Once you’re outside, you slam the door closed.

You dart panicked glances around the corridor. Relief fills you when you note that it’s empty. For now. It won’t be long before students start milling about.

You shamefully return to your dorm. The entire walk back, paranoia lurks at the edge of your mind. You keep wondering if every stranger you come across can tell what you did.

And you keep hoping not to run across anyone you know.

When you reach your bedroom, you lock the door. You make a beeline for the bathroom. You need a shower, expeditiously. Oliver’s smell still lingers on you. When you catch your disheveled reflection in the bathroom mirror, you’re shocked. You approach the mirror on unsteady legs. You crane your neck, your fingertips skimming over the two puncture wounds on your neck. A cool wave ripples down your back. It’s twisted. You feel like a character in a Polidori’s tale. Except this is reality somehow.

The one where you have to face the fact that you shagged your boyfriend’s new friend…and you’re not even entirely sure that you wanted it. Your mind throbs as you search through your memories. You changed your mind midway through. Oliver did not care.

Oliver did not care…

The ghastly realization has you keel over the toilet bowl to empty the meagre contents of your stomach. You slump to the floor and start quivering over the bathroom floor.

A sudden knock on your door has you rising from the floor.

Your heart skips a beat when you glance through the peephole.

“F-Felix?” you stutter, panic hitting a peak inside you.

His deep voice penetrates through the door.

“Hey, can we talk?” he asks. 

He sounds heartbroken, desperate. You almost unleash a sigh. You recognize this. You’ve been there before. This is a rollercoaster you can never get off of, the thrill when you’re high up entirely too intoxicating.

“Right now is not the best time.”

He heaves out a deep sigh. You can literally picture his kicked puppy expression, even with the door between you two. Your heartstrings flutter as you lean against the door. The craving to toss yourself in his arms wars with the sizzling betrayal still sitting in the pit of your stomach.

“Fuck. Are you still mad at me?”

Swallowing the surge of tears, you reply, “No. Just feeling a bit rough. Had a tad too much to drink last night.”

“I could take care of you…”

You nibble your lip. It’s tempting. He’s done it before. Bought you pastries and showered you with kisses and cuddles until you got better. When he wants, Felix can be the perfect boyfriend. When he wants.

“No,” you say firmly. “What do you want, Felix?”

“Can’t you just let me in, just for a minute, babe?” His pleading inflection shatters your meek fences.

“The park. In two hours,” you concede. “I got microeconomics right now, can’t miss it.”

“Thank you. Thank you.”

He’s overjoyed. You can’t bear it anymore. You race back to the bathroom as another wave of queasiness engulfs your insides.

Jittery steps lead you through the park as you rejoin him under an oak tree. You spent the last hour in class totally unfocused, your chest tight as you dreaded how this conversation would go.

“Felix,” you greet.

He wraps his arms around you. You remain still in his embrace, the distinctive scent of his cologne floating around you. You feel sick. Now it doesn’t remind you of Felix anymore.

“I really missed you.”

“Didn’t seem like it,” you mumble coolly.

His long exhale tickles your shoulder. “I know. I’m a wanker.”

“More like a selfish arsehole.”

His hold on you slackens as he draws back a little.

A look of hurt and shock covers his face. He isn’t used to you speaking to him so harshly. To him, you’ve only ever been sweet and forgiving. His brows crumple.

“I deserve that.” He scratches the back of his neck. “Listen I… I almost did something awful last night.”

“What thing?” You fiddle with the scarf around your neck. It’s the sole last minute resort you found to conceal the mark decorating your throat.

Of course you know exactly what thing Felix is referring to. You saw it with your own eyes, that thing. If it weren’t for that, you may not be a complete wreck today.

“Doesn’t matter, cause I stopped. It’s not who I want to be anymore.” He cups your face, warm brown gaze diving into yours. “You make me better.”

Words leave your mouth without forethought.

“Who was it this time?”

He hesitates, his jaw tensing. But beneath your heavy stare, he finally caves in.

“It was Annabel.”

“Oh.”

The knife inside your chest twists. It’s one thing to know, to have seen. It’s another to hear it confirmed from your boyfriend’s own mouth. Last night wasn’t some dragged out nightmare; it was reality. When you turn your head, Felix pivots it back to him. 

Sincerity vibrates in his tone. 

“I ended up kicking her out though.” He wipes the single tear that spills down your cheek. “All I could think about was you, the entire time.” He strokes your face. “You’re the only one for me, babe. This is the last time. I’ve never felt this way about anyone. Fuck…” 

You spot something you never heard in Felix’s voice before. Fear. And instantly, you break. 

He leans his forehead against yours.

“I love you,” he states.

You’re dumbstruck. Those words have crossed Felix’s lips at least a thousand times. He’s said them to so many, even strangers…but never to you. 

He came close a few times, but never has he been this clear, firm, his meaning unmistakable. Butterflies swarm your stomach. 

“I love you,” he repeats.

Felix plants a feverish kiss on your lips, leaving them tingling when he releases you. 

“I love you too,” you whisper as your hot breaths mingle.

A sunny smile breaks out on his face.

“No more lies from now on.”

A sinking feeling spreads through you, but you ignore it, returning his smile.

“No more lies,” you echo. Guilt eats at you the second you utter the words.

Felix’s attention veers from you as he waves at someone behind you.

“Hey, Ollie,” he shouts.

The air around you plummets to a few degrees. You go still against Felix, nudging a shaky smile onto your lips.

“I need to go to class,” you chime. 

You don’t even turn around, his presence alone sending your senses into alert.

Confusion scrunches Felix’s features.

“Your next class isn’t for another hour.”

You pat his chest, willing yourself to sound more cheerful than you feel.

“Just got some studying to catch up on beforehand.”

Felix’s fingers cling to yours as you try to leave. 

“I’ll see you tonight at the pub?”

“Sure.”

He doesn’t let you go until you give him another lengthy kiss. You’re uncomfortable, the weight of a certain somebody’s stare drilling holes into your back.

Things recede to relative normalcy, in some ways better than before, and in others worse. Better because of your relationship with Felix. It improves tremendously. He dotes on you more than he ever has, showering you with gifts and small attentions.

Worse because he’s still there, his unsettling presence the dark cloud over your rekindled romance. Each time you’re forced to be around him, there’s a knowing, smug glint dancing in his eyes, a subtle smile tugging his lips skywards. Perpetual fright eclipses your happiness, all because of Oliver Quick.

What if he told Felix everything? This was a mistake and you’re fairly sure you tried to stop it. You still have nightmares about that night, the way he held you down and wrapped his hand around your neck, stealing your air and ability to defend yourself.

You were helpless. Even letting Felix touch you is hard now, the memory of what Oliver did to you seeping through the cracks whenever you expect it least.

He branded you. And while the marks on your body may have faded, the ones engraved on your soul won’t vanish so easily.

It’s a blessing when Felix finally grows bored with him. You have no idea how it occurred. You simply know that they seem stitched at the hip for months then, suddenly, Oliver is gone. Felix shows up at group meetups without him and stops mentioning him altogether.

As if he took an eraser and wiped him from existence. Just like he did to Eddie back in the day.

You’re relieved…for an ephemeral while alas.

Oliver’s dad's abrupt passing changes everything overnight. 

Once more, Felix feels the need to be Oliver’s knight in shining armor. 

And once more the two of them are inseparable. Two peas in a pod.

You elect to take some distance. While you understand that Felix wants to help him, it doesn’t mean you have to. Thankfully, with summer fastly approaching, you won’t have to bear with Oliver Quick for much longer.

As usual, James and Elspeth urged you to come spend the summer at Saltburn, particularly Elspeth who couldn’t stop gushing about what a gorgeous couple you and Felix are. And while you may have tried to decline every other year, finding his family to be an awful lot, this year is different. This year, more than ever before, you long for an escape. 

Even the pits of hell would be a suitable vacation spot if it meant not having to run across Oliver Quick for two whole months. 

It’s a thrilling prospect. These days you can’t be around Felix as much because being around him means being around Oliver, and you just can’t do it. You look forward to having your boyfriend all to yourself. All day long, you dream about lazy afternoons by the pool and cloud-gazing in the grassy fields.

These are the balmy thoughts floating through your mind as you return to your dorm that day after classes end. A carefree smile decorates your face. You can’t wait to finish packing your suitcase. You saved every penny from your part-time job to buy a new swimsuit. And while it made a small dent in your savings, imagining Felix’s face the first time he’ll see you in it makes the tiny sacrifice worth it. 

But the smile on your lips dies when you cross the door to your bedroom. Your jaw drops, the stack of books in your hands crashing to the floor with a loud thud.

“What are you doing here?” you whisper. You shrink against the door, maintaining as wide a distance as the small room allows.

Oliver doesn’t even spare you a glance, casually lying on your bed with one knee bent like it’s his.

“Your taste in books. A bit of a letdown I gotta say, luv,” he says, flipping the yellowed pages of one of your favourite novels.

You lick your lips. “Look, I’m sorry about your dad…but you can’t be here.” He doesn’t leave your bed, engulfed in his reading. Your brows knit. “Get out of my room, Oliver,” you repeat, folding your arms as you approach the bed.

His cobalt gaze finally settles on you. He places the book on the night table, slow and unhurried as he gets to his feet.

Your pulse soars as he inches closer.

“Or what? You’ll scream?” he challenges. He circles you, gauging you in a way that summons a picture of a lion stalking its prey in your head. Your blood curdles when Oliver’s breath caresses your nape. “Then you’ll have to explain what I’m doing in your room and make a scene.” His voice lowers to a taunting rasp. “Do you want to make a scene?”

Your voice comes out shaky. “What do you want?”

Oliver takes a deep breath while placing his hands on your shoulders. His thumbs trace a slow path along the column of your neck. His lips graze your earshell.

“I want you to come over here, lie on this bed and spread your legs like a good girl for me.” You suck in a sharp breath. His fingers drag down your arm as he adds, “I’m feeling…peckish.”

When you don’t move, he releases a deep sigh. 

“...Or I can tell Felix everything.”

Your heart starts hammering in your chest. “What?” you exhale, spinning to face him. 

Oliver smiles. 

“You guys are great right now. He says you’re the best you’ve ever been. No more lies. No more secrets.” Oliver bends close to you, his smile expanding. “How do you think he’ll react when I tell him that we fucked…” He pauses and you hold your breath. “And that you’ve lied to him about your family this entire year.” 

Goosebumps spread across your flesh. You stumble back, your eyes practically bulging out of their sockets. “H-How do you know about that?”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, Oliver takes small steps forward, causing you to retreat until the back of your knees hit the edge of the mattress. He places his hands on each side of you. His  gaze traces the motion of your neck as you swallow the lump in your throat.

“I…It’s not the right time of the month right now,” you lamely offer. 

Oliver’s blue eyes rise as he sinks to his knees in front of you. Tingles bounce over your skin as he rolls your plaid skirt up your thighs.

“And you think it’s something I’m worried about?”

A moan tears from your throat when he buries two fingers inside your core without a warning.

“From now on when I tell you to spread your legs for me, you do as I say,” Oliver informs, his fingers curving inside you. You choke on your breath. “Don’t make me repeat myself. Do you understand?” The threat laced in his tone scatters ice in your veins.

“Y-Yes.”

“Yes, Oliver,” he corrects.

“Yes…Oliver,” you sputter, legs tensing as his digits reach deeper inside you.

“I’m sure it’ll be a summer to remember.”

Between uneven breaths, you stammer, “W-What do you mean?”

He strokes under your thigh absently.

“Oh didn’t Felix tell you?” He bends over you to whisper in your ear. “I’ve been invited to Saltburn, as a guest.”

When Oliver leans away, he’s smiling from ear to ear. Excitement sways in his cobalt orbs as he studies your crestfallen expression. 

“I know. I’m looking forward to it too.” 

[moonstruckme]

hi author !!! if it is okay with you i wanna request a fic in the same universe as the Big Brother!Sirius one where in reader gets a (secret) boyfriend and then they break up or whatever u want i just want hurt/comfort 🥹

Thanks for requesting <3

big brother!Sirius + little sister!reader ♡ 996 words

When you hear the door to your dorm open, you assume it’s one of your roommates or Regulus coming to shame you for missing dinner, but then your mattress shifts with the weight of someone else sitting down and a familiar teasing voice says, “If you’re dead under there, everyone’s going to think it was me.” 

You peep your eyes out from under the covers. “How did you get in here?” 

Sirius isn’t even looking at you. He’s making himself comfortable at the end of your bed, both legs crossed under him and hair falling in his face as he unwraps dishes and utensils. 

“Reggie let me in. He seemed to think you might need some company.” 

“He’s such a narc,” you grumble. 

Your brother only snickers. “Sit up, I brought you dinner.” 

You’d much rather stay under the covers, but know Sirius would only wrestle you into an upright position anyway. He always gets his way. 

“Yikes.” He makes a face as you sit up, revealing your bedhead and swollen eyes. “You’re having a rough one, huh?” 

“Shut up.” You glower at him and take the plate. “It’s not that bad.” 

Despite your grumbling, a bit of vulnerability sneaks into your tone. Sirius softens.

“No, it’s not,” he agrees, reaching forward to brush a piece of hair away from your face. “We’re always pretty; it’s in the genes.” 

You can’t help the small smile that fights its way onto your face. This is exactly the sort of thing your older brother would say when Regulus was twelve and sulking over getting his first pimple or when you nearly broke down in tears trying to style your hair. Despite his tomfoolery and general ridiculousness, Sirius’ levity actually provided a voice of reason in your family, reminding his siblings and cousins that things weren’t always so dire. 

“Thanks for bringing dinner,” you say.

“No problem,” Sirius replies softly, as though worried his gentle tone will be overhead and his rapscallion’s repute thusly destroyed. “Is it good enough that you’ll tell me what’s gotten you so upset?”

You blink at him in surprise. “Reg didn’t say?” 

Sirius’ mouth twists, dissatisfied. “He didn’t. I guess I would’ve been more likely to find out if I’d just pretended I already knew, huh?” 

That makes you chuckle. “Probably, yeah.” 

“Well, come on. Now you’ve gotta tell me.” 

You feel your shoulders hunch inwards. “Do I really have to?”

“Yes.” Your brother’s voice is firm, but his eyes are hopeful. 

You want to tell him, you find. You don’t suppose any harm can come from it now. 

You eye him carefully. “I broke up with my boyfriend.” 

Sirius’ eyes pop. He nearly topples your plate leaning forward, like you’re back in your childhood beds trading secrets. “You were dating someone?” 

“I was.” You can’t quite look at him, focussing on cutting your meal into small bites. “Or I thought I was. It doesn’t matter. I’m definitely not now.” 

“Wha—how did I not know about this?” 

“Because obviously I’m not going to talk about my dating life with my brother,” you huff a laugh down into your lap, and you swear you can feel the force of Sirius’ eye roll burning into the top of your head. “No one really knew. He wanted to keep it private.” 

Sirius tilts his head, slotting a piece of his hair behind his ear. “Private in an avoid-the-gossip-mill way or private in a dirty-secret way?” 

You close your eyes, shame curdling in your gut. Even your idiot brother knows enough to be suspicious of something like that. Maybe if you’d told him all those weeks ago, you wouldn’t be where you are now.

“In the second way,” you admit in a whisper. “I, um, sort of assumed it was because of the first, and I liked the idea of keeping things private too, but it turned out he had other reasons.” 

You try to take another bite of food, but it feels soggy and unappetizing in your mouth. You set your plate aside. 

“What happened?” Sirius asks. 

Your face feels miserably hot. “He just didn’t like me as much as I liked him. He didn’t want his friends to know.” Tears burn in your eyes, and when you try to speak again they show up in your voice, too. “I feel really stupid.” 

“Oh, sweetheart.” Sirius sits up on his knees, bending over you to fold you into a hug. His hand presses reassuringly between your shoulder blades, and you let out a little sob. “That doesn’t make you stupid, it only makes him a prat.”

You hug him tightly. “I just feel so silly being upset when he probably doesn’t even care.” 

“You are being silly,” he chastises, but there’s fondness in your brother’s tone. “Of course he cares. He may not be regretting things right now, but I’d bet ten galleons he will be by the end of the month. Trust me, babe, boys are idiots. We don’t know how to act, we almost never know what we want, and we’re ten times more likely to fuck something up if it’s important to us. Just ask Remus.” 

Your laugh is a soggy thing. Sirius rubs your back encouragingly. 

“So, what’s the sod’s name?” 

“Oh, no way.” You laugh even harder, pulling out of the hug to wipe under your eyes. “I’m not telling you.” 

“What?” Sirius throws up his hands. “But we were doing so well!” 

“I’ve handled it, Sirius. I don’t want you to go and turn his skin green or make him sprout nose hairs down to his chin.” 

A giddy grin. “That’s actually not a bad idea. Does Regulus know who it is?” 

You fix him with your sternest stare. Most other people would soil their pants, but because he’s your older brother, Sirius only raises a brow. “If he did, he wouldn’t tell you.” 

“That’s alright.” He steals a roll off your plate, biting into it insouciantly. “I’ll find out.” 

[revelboo]

Everything is Alright pt 13

Starscream x Reader-feelings

• Something’s shifted between one of your heartbeats to the next and Starscream doesn’t understand what it is. What’s changed or how to fix it. He just knows that it’s getting under his plating in a decidedly unsettling way. He hates it.

• The entire trip back, you’re silent, not looking at him or Soundwave. Not exactly ignoring them, just distant. Then you ask to sleep in that little bed Soundwave gave you rather than on his chassis even though he knows you’re cold. You’re always complaining about the cold, seeking out his warmth. And he hadn’t realized how accustomed he’s grown to the soft weight of you against him or the sound of your breathing while he recharges. As silly as it is, he needs it.

• The next day, you smile at him when he wakes you, but it’s wrong. It’s empty and his spark constricts. He runs a palm over his helm, wings fidgeting. Angry because this is the only good thing he has. And it’s slipping through his servos and he doesn’t even know why. “I don’t care if you hate me,” he snarls, servos curling under into fists. He can’t reach for you, afraid that he might accidentally break you. “But can you at least have the decency to tell me why?”

• It’s that rough, angry plea that breaks you. Like he honestly has no idea why. Like he can’t fathom why you’d be upset at all. Your fingers close on one of your pillows and you chuck it at him, wanting to scream. His optics narrow as the projectile just bounces off and you wonder if maybe this will be it. That he’ll finally decide you’re more trouble than you’re worth. If it is, you might as well let it all out. “I’m not a pet, okay? I’m a person- I had a life!” You sling the other pillow at him, suddenly, irrationally angry and on the verge of tears again. Sure, you’d hated your job and your ex. Your life may not have been glamorous, but it’d been yours. Not his to take away.

• His hand comes down, gently forcing you down, pinning you to the bed on your back as his servos cage you and he leans into your space. Oh, you definitely made him mad. “And that life is mine now,” he says, voice a dark, rasping threat. “You’re just a little bird in a cage and I prefer a happy pet.”

• There it is. Something besides that empty, apathy. Starscream grits his denta as you glare at him like you can hurt him that way. If only you knew. Even if it’s all a lie, he wants you to play along. Needs it so bad it hurts. Smile for him, talk to him. Hate him if you must, but be there. Be you. Because even if you hate him, he can lie, too.

• He can pretend because it’s all he has and he can’t give it up just yet.

Previous Next

[veilofaponia]

Dum Spiro, Spero

yandere chrollo x reader

warnings: yandere content, kidnapping, implied dub-con, chrollo really sucks

word count: 1.6k

You feel dirty.

No matter how hard you scrub at your skin, how much soap is lathered onto your hands and dragged down your body, it still feels soiled.

The cause of your despair is situated in front of you, a pleased expression on his face while he hums a melody of a certain composer he seems particularly infatuated with lately.

He busies himself by combing his slender fingers through your hair and massaging your scalp meanwhile. If you close your eyes, you can pretend you’re sharing an intimate moment with a lover rather than the one who took you away from everything familiar.

You’re no actor, how much longer can you stand playing the role of a character who you vowed to never become?

This is what you've been working towards for weeks. You can't let this chance slip away.

“Chrollo,” Your voice is quiet, an embarrassingly stark contrast to minutes prior. “I’ve been wanting to ask you something.”

The hands that were previously untangling the knots in your hair spring to a halt. His gray eyes try to meet yours, but you don’t allow them to. You keep your wavering gaze focused on the bathroom tiles next to you. If you were to look into Chrollo’s scrutinizing eyes, he would immediately be able to read your intentions. Any confidence you had managed to scrape together would immediately be crushed, its remains tossed away into the wind.

Chrollo has always emphasized how much he loves your unfiltered thoughts and imagination. You hope he keeps this mindset even now.

“I really, really want to see my family. So... Could you please take me to see them?"

He says nothing. This time, you do meet his gaze, hoping that you’ll be able to gleam his thoughts by staring into the pits. The eyes are the window to the soul, they say.

Chrollo’s eyes are blank, though. There’s no amusement, no sign of mockery, not even anger. His thoughts are impossible to read, no matter how much you study his facial expression.

Desperate to make your point clear, you ramble to fill the silence, to have him understand just how much this means to you.

“I won’t tell them anything, I swear! And I won’t try to drop hints either, you’re smart, so you’d be able to notice them, anyway,” praising him will surely make him become more agreeable, right? “You can lead the conversations, a-and basically say everything in my place so I won’t say anything stupid. You can choose how long and where and when, I just really want them to know I’m okay,” somewhat. “and I want to know that they’re okay too. Please…”

After a silence that’s far too long for comfort, he finally speaks up. Both his voice and countenance refuse to betray what he’s feeling or thinking in the moment. “Your family is in fine health.”

Is that really all he got from your spiel?

“I’m glad, but I really want to see them in person. Please just let me–”

Your tongue freezes, even if you desperately want to keep talking. He gives you a look you’re all too familiar with. The one that tells you to stop pushing your luck, that he’s made up his mind.

If you drop the subject now, he’ll pretend it was never brought up, and you can both bathe in each other's presence. But you refuse to go down like this. He can have you experience luxuries you couldn’t have dreamt of before him, but the pros don’t extend much further than that. The freedom to go out without having to gain Chrollo’s favor first or socializing with whomever you want were taken from you, stolen by a wanted thief.

Against your better judgment, you pursue the topic.

“But!” “[First].” A final warning. You don’t heed it. There’s something to gain, but nothing to lose. “But I’ve been good, haven't I?” You try not to linger on the implication of the word, feeling more like some kind of glorified pet rather than human. “I even let you…” The words are stuck in your throat, making it feel as if you’re choking on your own indignity. There’s no need for you to clarify, anyway, the implication far too obvious to miss.

You feel disgusted at yourself, even if you don’t have the guts to voice that which is obvious. You let him touch you in ways you swore you would never grant him the pleasure of. It was the last part of you he didn’t have in his grasp, and yet you handed it to him on a silver platter, clinging onto hope that maybe if you gave him this one thing he’d acquise to one of your more serious requests.

He sighs, drawn out and heavy. His hand slowly trails up your body, surely noticing but not commenting on how you bristle at the contact, and lingers on the area of your chest a bit too long for comfort. It takes a commendable amount of self control to not slap his hand away, but you manage to force yourself to keep your arms limp by your side.

When his hand reaches your face, he holds your cheek and strokes his thumb over it. The gesture is probably meant to be comforting, but there’s no comfort to be gained from it. No, comfort is a foreign concept when Chrollo is involved.

This set-up feels almost romantic. Maybe it could be, if only he could keep his mouth shut for once. A shame his words effortlessly destroy any semblance of romance the atmosphere had been able to take on.

“You enjoyed it, no?” You blank at his words. It was a reality you were set on ignoring, but Chrollo always seems to be able to tell which topics you want to avoid. It’s unfortunate those happen to be his favorite to discuss.

“Are you intent on ignoring this reality forever? To make yourself feel better about yourself, you convince yourself this was something only I wanted, that you had no choice but to accept whatever I did.” By your stiff posture and pleading eyes, he can easily tell you want him to stop. But he doesn’t relent. “Yet, it was you who initiated. You willingly entered my bed and leaned into my touch.”

Maybe if you had kept your mouth shut, this truth wouldn’t have been shoved in your face, and you could keep pretending you were as unwilling as you thought to be, just so you could justify your actions to yourself.

“Even during it all, I could see the determination in your eyes. You truly are a sight to behold. I could see the inner turmoil, the justification of why you let me claim you. I was content letting you lie to yourself all you desire, but, ah, you seem to have forced the words out of me.”

He gives you a smile of faux guilt. Had you not been feeling so utterly defeated, you might’ve reached out to slap it off his face.

The water is lukewarm, you bitterly note in your head. Even with every remaining part of your dignity being completely destroyed by Chrollo’s words, you refuse to humor him with a response, or any acknowledgement in general. Busying yourself with counting the amount of bathroom tiles seems to keep your mind off the situation at hand for a few seconds, but your tormentor won’t allow you to not give your full attention.

You’re pulled flush against his bare chest. He ignores the yelp you let out in response, placing his face into your neck. Your entire body feels heavy and useless. You want to claw him off, to prove him wrong with both words and actions, but you can’t muster up the energy. Is there even a point, when Chrollo always manages to have everything end in his favor?

He begins to press light kisses against your neck, the skin still sore due to his prior actions. His arms hold your waist in a warm embrace, yet a shiver runs down your spine at the contact.

“You’ve never been the type to give in easily. It’s a trait of yours I truly admire, along with many others.”

In the past, a heartfelt compliment like that would’ve had you beaming at the words and scrambling to give him a compliment back. But in the present, it just has the feeling of despair inside of you growing. He doesn’t voice it, but he doesn’t need to. The words left unsaid are clear.

He made you give in.

When you began hinting towards sex to him, you told yourself that this was for your own gain. That for once, you would be the victor. Chrollo would benefit, yes, but you would too. You could finally have something you truly wanted.

You told yourself this when his kisses got more heated, more passionate, the calm and gentlemanly demeanor he’s always wearing slipping away. You told yourself this when clothes were shed, when he lined himself up with you, when you felt your resolve slipping during the heat of it, when he finally pulled out and it was over.

Throwing away the last shreds of your pride was painful, but you endured. You refused to acknowledge any pleasure he was bringing you, keeping your mind focused on your goal so you could finally win once, as miniscule as your victory may be.

But in the end, Chrollo was the only one who gained anything.

Just like it’s always been.

[yokohamapound]

How about some angsty HCs?? 😏

How would Kunikida, Dazai, Fukuzawa, Chuuya and Fyodor (or anyone else you’d like too) react to their s/o taking a hit for them that would have otherwise been fatal if they didn’t?? S/o ends up being okay but the gentlemen are all angsty in the meantime >:)

Thanks so much lovely! 🥰💕

Hello, my lovely! It's been a while since I wrote some good old angst, so this scratched an itch. I hope these are what you are looking for!

Characters: Nakahara Chuuya, Dazai Osamu, Fyodor Dostoevsky, Fukuzawa Yukichi, Kunikida Doppo

Contents: death mentions, suicide mentions, controlling behaviour, anger issues

Nakahara Chuuya

Ooh, it’s kinda difficult for him to deal with? He’s in two minds about it, really. 

On one hand, he’s strong enough that whatever blow was being dealt to him really wouldn’t have hurt him that much, or so he tells himself. All he can think about is that moment where the bullet/bomb/fireball, whatever it is, was coming toward you. Yes, you survived it, but he had to live through the nanoseconds of absolute hell when he thought he was just about to see another person he cares about die right before his eyes. 

His temper erupts afterward. He’s furious, yelling at you that you “didn’t fuckin’ need to do that!” You’d be forgiven for thinking that it’s his pride you’ve hurt, but it’s anger born of worry. Those few moments he thought you were going to die were harrowing for him. 

Imagine if he carelessly lost the person he loves the most, just because he was too slow or too stupid to see it coming? Shit, he could never live with himself if that happened. 

However, there’s the other side of the coin. Which is that you cared about him enough to intercept a blow aimed at him. Chuuya can’t remember the last time someone did that for him. He’s used to being the tank, to soaking up all the violence so the geniuses can get on with their schemes. He doesn’t really know how to handle someone trying to protect him, like he’s something vulnerable.

He likes it and he doesn’t. He’s grateful and he’s pissed. Chuuya’s a complicated creature. 

Once he’s done yelling and has calmed down a little, he’ll mutter something that sounds like a ‘thank you’, though he says it with his eyes mulishly averted and one arm wrapped tightly around your waist. He won’t be letting you out of his sight for a while, even while he’s being a grouch.

Dazai Osamu

While he might not show it on the surface, this has a rather profound effect on Dazai. Remember the last time someone he loved died in front of him?

While he pretends to be calm on the surface, inside he’s in turmoil. He should have seen it coming; you’re the self-sacrificing sort, always trying to save him in one or another. But before now, it hasn’t been literal. 

I feel like time moves very slowly for someone as fast as Dazai. He was able to process far too much information in those few seconds you were in danger. All of his mistakes, laid out for him as plain as day. 

He tends to convince himself that he can plan around every kind of incident but this is a start reminded that this isn’t always the case.

“Hey, bella?” His tone is unusually serious. His hand on your shoulder. “I’m going to need you not to do that again. Believe it or not, I don’t want to see you die in front of me.”

If you pay close attention, you’ll notice Dazai doesn’t make any more double suicide jokes after that. They don’t have the same appeal. Dazai doesn’t think he could stand to watch you die, even if you did want to join him. 

He keeps a close watch on you after that, turning up unexpectedly throughout your day without any explanation, his lanky form popping up like a weed.

Fyodor Dostoevsky

While he will never, ever reveal it, this will shake Fyodor’s iron-clad ego a little bit. He likes to think he is in control of everything, and he can predict every single action of yours down to the blink. For whatever reason, he didn’t foresee you getting in his way and taking a hit meant for him. 

You gain an element of unpredictability, which is both intriguing and alarming for him. 

There is also the fact that you stepped in to take a hit for him. While he’s used to having underlings who look up to him like a god (Ivan), he doesn’t count you amongst the peons. He’s got you wrapped around his little finger, but in a way that promotes adoration and obedience, not self-sacrificing recklessness. He’ll have to step back and examine your relationship somewhat.

“My darling, what was the meaning of that?” he asks of you, his tone soft and a little dangerous. “I do not need you flinging yourself in the path of danger for me. I have everything in hand.”

He likes your devotion, but he doesn’t want you getting in the way of his plans. And he does care about you, love you in his own way—he doesn’t want to lose something he sees as his. 

If you were injured at all, he will have the best private doctors on hand to treat you. Be prepared for his love and attention to be a little stifling for a while. He won’t want to let you out of his sight. 

As for the person whose attack you foiled? Fyodor will turn the full weight of his enormous intellect to destroying them. They were dead the moment their attack came near something he cares about.

Fukuzawa Yukichi

Fukuzawa is very much the self-sacrificing sort. He’s said more than once that he doesn’t mind giving up his life in order to ensure peace in Yokohama, or to protect the lives of the younger members of the agency. He’s heavily bound by duty.

While he holds these values to himself, he doesn’t expect you to abide by the same code. In fact, he doesn’t want you to. You’re not a grizzled old samurai like him. (His words, not yours.)

He also heavily dislikes the idea that you were in danger because of him. Your relationship with him shouldn’t be a source of danger for you. As soon as he’s sure you’re safe and well, he will sit back and mull things over in his silent, intense way. He considers all options, from simply killing the person who tried to attack him, to ending your relationship with him to ensure your safety.

Thankfully, he comes to the conclusion that you are an adult who knows what is good for you. He’s never hidden the truth from you, and if you’re willing to face that to stand at his side, then Fukuzawa needs to respect that. He can’t make your decisions for you. 

“However,” he says. “I must ask that you do not do that again. I can accept my own death, but not yours.”

“Don’t you trust me to watch your back?”

“Obviously, you can be trusted,” he says. “Today is evidence enough, but know that I could not live with myself if you were injured or killed looking out for me. If death is coming for me, I have earned it.”

He can’t really be talked out of this mindset, but that’s part of why you fell for him in the first place. Just make him a promise that you won’t put yourself at risk on his behalf. 

Kunikida Doppo

Poor Kunikida.

One of his ideals is that he will never watch anyone die right in front of him if he can help it. The last time he had to watch an innocent person die, it almost shattered his psyche. 

If you were to die in front of him, it would break him utterly. Even though you’re fine, the close shave rattles him down to his core. Instead of blowing his top and then settling down, the way you’re used to him doing, Kunikida becomes grim and quiet. 

He refuses to step away from your bedside while you’re in the hospital for a check-up after the incident. His notebook of ideals is folded in his pocket, ignored. The fact he isn’t scribbling anything down is a little alarming. He’s not Kunikida if he’s not adding little notes to it every five minutes. He has his hands steepled together, his face grim behind his glasses.

“Are you going to yell at me?” you ask him. 

Kunikida lifts his gaze to you, almost as if he’s surprised to hear you speak. He breaks out of his reverie a little bit, sitting up and pushing his glasses further up his nose. The light hits the lenses, hiding his expression from you a little. His voice is sombre.

“I must thank you for saving my life,” he tells you, almost formal. 

“That’s not the only thing bothering you, is it?” You know him well enough by now. You reach out and take one of his hands.

Kunikida fingers tighten around yours, trembling slightly. It’s the only way that you can see how completely off centre he is. 

“Kunikida?”

“Don’t…don’t make me worry like that again. Please.”

[junicult]

First of all, love you work!!! Secondly, for the bachelors asking farmer if they can try something new in the bedroom and what do you think the new kink they want to try would be?

!! the bachelors & their kinks

contains ; smut! nsfw. fem!farmer. much suggestive content. kinkplay (obvi). light bondage. fem!masturbation. fingering. slight edging. orgasm control / denial. overstim. squirting. mirror sex. oral (f!receiving). very brief mention of an insecure!reader (elliot’s.)

note ; i got another ask like this about just their fav kinks, so i’m combining them both here.

harvey.

- now, to some of you, this man may scream vanilla.

- which, okay, isn’t untrue.

- he loves those nights when you’re just needy and desperate, you just need him to be with you, no extra stuff.

- missionary, holding hands, moaning into your mouth while whispering abt how much you love each other—yeah, that’s his favorite.

- but, are we just gonna sit here and pretend like he’s not literally an overthinker?????

- OFC THIS MAN IS KINKY!!!!!

- but he’d much rather live in ignorant bliss then know you’d be turned off by his kinks.

- so yes. he’s got some pretty closeted fantasies, things he’s always wanted to try but has been wayy too scared to even mention.

- even if you’re like, “oh c’mon, you’re telling me there’s nothing you want to try?” practically BEGGING for him to confess,

- he’s just gonna swallow and shake his head.

- the thing about harvey, tho, is that during sex (even though he enjoys it very much), his main goal is to make sure you’re feeling good.

- it’s all about you, and whatever you want to try.

- you’ve definitely told him your biggest kinks, and can i just say you’ve definitely tried them all.

- that’s just bc he wants to do that for you.

- he was excited to help you fulfill those fantasies, especially since it made you feel so good.

- and depending on what a few of them were, he definitely tries to incorporate them into every night sex.

- anyways—

- it (annoyingly) takes a while to finally get him to open up.

- but once he finally tells you, ohhh boyyy.

- firstly, he’s into bondage. i said it.

- light, but still enough that you’re restrained at least somehow.

- whether it’s using his tie to pull your hands back, or a full on rope tying your limbs to the bedposts—i swear.

- he’s super gentle, tho. tying each knot and asking a quiet, “is it too tight?” every time.

- but fucckkkkk

- he’s gonna be so criminally slow.

- i wanna say he’s a switch. a big fan of letting you take the lead somedays, and him some others.

- so being able to tie you up is like his own leverage this time.

- he gets to see you squirming underneath him, body scorching and you’re just so desperate for him to fuck you,

- but he won’t. not yet, cus you just look so so pretty and, well, if this is his biggest fantasy, then he’s gonna take his time.

- secondly…roleplay.

- 🫡

- now, this may not be an everyday fantasy, but it’s definitely something he’d want to try at least once.

- and if we’re being literal, the only roleplay i can see him really wanting to try is some sort of doctor play.

- this man would NEVER (ignoring the fact that ur technically one of his patients so really not never) visualize his patients in such a way. he takes serious pride in being a doctor, and his professionalism.

- but hear me out—he’d die to have you on his table, you’re just so fucking horny and he’s kinda stressed, so he just fucks u right there in his office.

- lab coat still on, stethoscope hanging around his neck still. he’s literally in his entire work uniform.

- that’s just his biggest fantasy, tho.

- realistically, he’d never do that.

- it’d be a serious violation of anyone found out, and he’d lose his job (and likely much worse.)

- not to mention, extremely unsanitary. as much as he’d love to, he’d literally never.

- so, approaching this kink wouldn’t be easy.

- you’d probably get him to tell you, and he’d finish it with, “i’d much rather keep my job then throw it away by doing something reckless,” and you understand that, but it’s super exciting to see his face get all red and his eyes avoid contact.

- that doesn’t stop the thought from invading your mind every time you pop into the clinic to say hi to him.

- dropping him off a warm cup of coffee, and if he isn’t busy, you may even lean across the counter to give him a chaste kiss.

- except you’re sliding your hand around the back of his neck, feathering your fingers through his short brown hair and pulling him in, sorta taking him by surprise cus that’s hardly a kiss for a greeting.

- and you’re smiling when you pull away, a little devilish twinkle in your eye when you say, “i’ll see you at home, doctor,” just before waltzing out the door.

- hah. yeah.

- it’s gonna be a looonngg shift.

sam.

- he’s an open book.

- it didn’t take any prying at all, but the topic probably didn’t come up for a while.

- not until you guys were just sitting together one day, just talking like you usually do.

- and out of curiosity he asks, “is there anything you’d ever wanna try in bed? sexually?”

- so you tell him, and then proceed to ask the same question.

- he pretends to think for a moment.

- but really, he already knows what he wants to say.

- and he probably has a whole story to follow it up LMFAO

- “like, a long time ago i was, y’know…watching porn or whatever, like you do,” he’s looking down at his hands, twiddling his thumbs, “and i saw this one thing once. thought it was pretty cool.”

- “…which was?”

- he clears his throat. “just like…a dominatrix…”

- yeah.

- this man wants to be dominated 🤷‍♀️

- he probably went as far as to make a vow to himself that he’d try it once.

- don’t get me wrong, he’s definitely a switch as well. he likes being in control, and even a healthy dose of letting you be in control,

- but i’m talking DOMINATED.

- like, talk down on him, be a little rough, use him like he’s a toy.

- he’ll go fucking crazy.

- he genuinely doesn’t care what you do, just as long as you’re getting so much out of this, just using him however you please.

- i think i’ve said this a million times,

- but once he gets going, this man won’t shut the fuck up. he’s just talking and talking, spewing nothing but porn from his lips,

- and the moment you stuff ur panties in his mouth to shush him…

- yeah, that’s it. he’s done. he’s fulfilled his biggest dream.

- and he’s so glad you did it for him.

- another kink i feel like he’d have is you using him somehow to get yourself off, without touching his dick or something.

- and he definitely didn’t know he had this kink until once when you were just making out, you were so desperate that you subconsciously started rubbing against his thigh,

- and he didn’t realize what you were doing until you just cut yourself off moaning, head hanging and eyes lidded.

- he just placed his hands on your hips, watching you, how your hips moved against his clothed thigh and how your eyebrows pinched,

- you weren’t actively touching him or anything. but he got so hard that he started to feel like you literally were.

- he lets you use him to ride out your high, hardly paying attention to the way you’re panting, “‘m sorry, jus’ couldn’t—i’m sorry—“

- he’s already cutting you off,

- “do that again, fuck, do that again please.”

shane.

- he’s so kinky lol.

- the real question is what isn’t one of his kinks?

- no cus honestly, i feel like he’d be down to try anything at least once. just to see if he liked it, and to see what he didn’t.

- for the most part, he kinda likes everything.

- within reason, of course.

- so i feel like getting him to open up about it wasn’t hard at all. especially if you’re already really close and connected with one another.

- as for his kinks, like the ones he prefers over everything else, well…i feel like they’re surprisingly underwhelming.

- his absolute favorite will forever be handcuffs.

- cuffing you to the bedpost, arms up high and out of reach so he can tease you all he wants.

- and he loves when you just get so flushed and embarrassed, but you can’t use your hands to cover your face.

- it’s so rare he’d ever be the one cuffed. he likes it much more when you are.

- plus, i feel like you tried once, and you got way too cocky that he just ripped through them and fucked you stupid.

- so yeah. cuffs are appreciated.

- another one of his kinks would be watching you masturbate.

- or even guiding you through masturbation.

- it’s just so hot when he has you laying in front of him, legs propped and spread apart, with your hand teasing your cunt however you like.

- kinda, sorta degrades u while praising you at the same time.

- “you’re not gonna cum yet, are you? i thought you were better then that.” “it’s up to you, baby. you wanna cum now, or let me give it to you later?”

- he’s gonna make you edge yourself.

- but really, it’s your call if you wanna cum without his permission or not.

- if u do, that’s fine. he’ll bask in the sight of you trembling and whining from your own doing.

- however, just so you know, he’s not gonna fuck you for the next few days.

- so why’re you all clingy now, desperate and whiny?

- after all, it seems like you don’t even need him.

sebastian.

- hmmm.

- he’s absolutely not an open book.

- it took him a while to even have sex with you first, anyways. obviously he’s not gonna bust out every position or activity he’s ever wanted to try right away.

- he’s probably not going to be able to talk about it unless he’s already horny, and his pride is out the window.

- now, this man has long, thin fingers.

- yeah, he’s always liked the idea of fingering u.

- that’s not necessarily a kink, so let me take it one step further.

- his fingers can reach really deep inside of you, and in some ways, his fingers feel a little better then his actual cock.

- after years of practice with you, he’s gotten very good at learning what you like, and what you don’t like. he’s super vigilant.

- he knows just where to curve his fingers inside of you, just how quickly to pump them in and out of you to the point where you’re nothing but stuttered gasps and choked out moans.

- and because he has such long fingers, he knows exactly where that small, rough spot is inside of you.

- and he knows what can happen if he focuses specifically on just that one spot.

- see where i’m going w this?

- every single time he fingers you, he always has one end goal.

- to make you squirt.

- whether you realize that’s what he’s trying to do or not, he’s obsessed with the possibility of feeling your arousal all over his hand, making a mess out of your sheets and even his clothes if he can try hard enough (gn.)

- it wasn’t until one day when he was finally able to do it—i swear he thought he was a dead man.

- he literally came in his pants just from the sight alone 😇

- your body shaking, mind so foggy you don’t even realize what you’ve done until your breaths finally even out minutes later.

- it’s even cuter when you finally do, and you grow all embarrassed.

- “holy shit, did i just…?”

- but when you look at his flushed face, and down at the growing stain in his pants,

- let’s just say ur no longer the one who’s embarrassed.

alex.

- when it comes to sex, he’s pretty vanilla.

- he likes fucking you until you both cum, he’s not really one to edge or overstimulate you.

- but as it turns out, his kinks are pretty specific.

- i feel the need to mention that immediately, as soon as i got this ask, i just knew i had to talk about this.

- don’t get me wrong, i love alex so much. he’s so adorable.

- and this probably doesn’t count as a kink, but please hear me out when i say,

- he’ll definitely give u his jersey to wear when he fucks u stupid one day.

- i’m sorry.

- some may say narcissistic, he says confident!

- just the way his jersey engulfs your frame, his last name written in large letters above his number makes him…nghh.

- like, he was unpacking to move into the farm, found his old jersey in one of his boxes and he excitedly showed it to you.

- he was so cute about it, reminiscing on that time in his life before you offhandedly asked him to try it on.

- and he was all, “oh, no way. it wouldn’t fit me anymore.” so instead, you tried it on.

- and it just clicked on his mind.

- like a literal switch that just immediately gave him a hard on.

- he couldn’t help but kiss all down your neck, and eventually have you bent over one of the cabinets, your hair wrapped in his loose fist so he could see the jersey properly while fucking you from behind.

- ur moaning so loud, panting and whining, and he can’t help but love the fact that you’re all his.

- he’s just obsessed. ur definitely doing that again.

- this next one kinda ties into his slight narcissism, too.

- and this one also isn’t really a kink, but with how badly he wants to try it, it may as well be.

- alex likes anything that proves how strong he is.

- fucking you against the wall, holding you up entirely, literally anything that shows off his strength.

- so it shouldn’t have been a surprise when he turned to you one evening, and was just like, “you should sit on my face.”

- when you agree to it, he knows you well enough to know you’re just gonna hover.

- and he’s not having that.

- “don’t be shy, actually sit on it. c’mon, you think you could hurt me?”

- “what if you stop breathing?”

- he almost wants to roll his eyes. “then it’d be a rightful way to die.”

- “alex!”

- “baby, just sit! i’m gonna be fine, i promise. please. for me.” he’ll use puppy dog eyes, even stick out his bottom lip of he has to.

- finally, when you do, he feels like he’s ascending to heaven.

- wraps his arms around your thighs to tug you down further, and he’s looking up at you moaning like crazy while he eats you out like he’s starving.

- there was no easing into it, he’s immediately diving in.

- cus once again, if there’s one honorable way to die, then it’s buried between your thighs.

elliot.

- it’s a given he’s extremely romantic.

- he’s the type to surprise you with candlelight dinners at home, or a fancy, all expenses paid (by him) evening in zuzu city.

- all of his romance, deep love and affection for you of course translates to sex.

- he’s written a lot of novels, he’s read a lot of romances.

- but, i feel like he likes to keep it simple in bed.

- much like harvey, he prefers when you’re just in the moment together, holding each other, finishing together.

- he probably wouldn’t be against trying many things just to try them out, or if you really enjoyed them,

- but when it comes to his own kinks? they’re super tame.

- for one, he absolutely loves when he gets to put you in front of a mirror, completely naked slotted between his thighs, with either your or his fingers rubbing against your cunt.

- you just roll your head back into his shoulder, panting while he whispers words of praise into your ear.

- it’s like, he’s showering you with endless levels of pleasure, all of which you’re too short-circuited to focus on any.

- he mostly loves this position after you offhandedly, or subtly mention something poor about how you look.

- so he uses that opportunity to let you see yourself the way he sees you.

- “my pretty baby, i don’t believe you could even think so poorly of yourself.” kissing your cheek in whispering in your ear.

- he won’t edge you. he couldn’t deprive himself of waiting to see you finish.

- so another one of his kinks that he’ll never fail to forget is overstimulation.

- he’s not done until you’re practically stupid, nearly drooling.

- when all you can speak are incoherent babbles, breath staggering in your chest.

- that’s when he knows he can finally finish, bc that’s another thing,

- he’s not cumming until you’re entirely fucked out.

[anifever]

can you pls do an outsiders x Nerdy fem reader? Like, braces boy band fangirl who rants about comics type. Would rather have it being Curtis sister reader but you can do whatever, tyy <33

Gang w/ a Nerdy!Reader ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The Outsiders x Fem!Reader

୨୧ : The Curtis gang with a nerdy reader

A/N : This is kinda bad bcs I get unmotivated to write sometimes but I swear I’m trying omg. Also I didn’t do Curtis sister simply so it’d be more ambiguous, sorry 💔 Anyways this is literally me except I just don’t have braces anymore

˖⁺‧₊˚ 👓 ˚₊‧⁺˖

Darry

୨ You cut pics of The Rolling Stones members, etc out of the newspapers he reads and keep them

୨ He’s confused at first then he’s like “Oh..” when he realizes what’s happening- he doesn’t mind tho

୨ You write the dumbest little notes/pickup lines and put them in his lunch bag for work

୨ He doesn’t understand most of them but he likes them regardless

୨ He read comics here and there when he was a kid, but he definitely doesn’t anymore 😭

୨ He’s always arguing with Pony about those things and just doesn’t really get it

୨ Even though he doesn’t understand yours and Pony’s infatuation with stuff like that, he thinks it’s nice you’re able to bond with each other over it

୨ At some point you convince him to watch one of your favorite sci-fi type tv shows with you whenever he isn’t busy

୨ It’s a pipeline of him saying he doesn’t like it, pretending he doesn’t like it, then being really invested in it

୨ Anyways, even if your interests don’t exactly line up, you still love each other

୨ You rambling over stuff all the time honestly helps him forget about the stress in his life

Two-Bit

୨ He has no room to talk when his favorite show is still Mickey Mouse at the age of 18 and a half

୨ He thinks it’s cute in an endearing way

୨ He makes fun of you a bit but he doesn’t mean it seriously- that’s just how he is

୨ You guys discuss superheroes together and get way too in depth about it

୨ When he sees your room for the first time there’s like little figurines everywhere, etc and he’s just like “Huh, I have that one too” while pointing at the Hulk or something

୨ He doesn’t gaf, at least it’s clean unlike his

୨ If you have braces, he’s absolutely making jokes about it

୨ You’re getting called metal mouth but it’s out of love I promise

୨ He doesn’t let other people make jokes about it though

୨ Like that’s his job!!! Leave his girl alone!!!

୨ This man defends you with his life I’m so serious

୨ Anyways, whenever he gets super drunk and he starts rambling the exact same way you do normally so it sort of evens you out

୨ Idk what else to even say because you both just make so much sense- it seems so obvious

Steve

୨ I hate to say it, but he calls you brace-face

୨ Ironic because he needs some himself!!! 😊

୨ You said something along those lines to him once and he was so caught off guard and offended

୨ Even though he’s a smartass and you’d figure he’d be mean abt it, I feel like he’s probably kinda the same as you- at least when he was younger

୨ Bro knows his DC and Marvel lore

୨ You guys are constantly re-watching ‘Godzilla’ together

୨ There’s probably a picture of him from when he was younger dressed as it for Halloween or something too

୨ You have made him go to a concert with you

୨ He didn’t even really care about you freaking out over the guys, he was more upset that you chose The Beach Boys of all people

୨ He considers it “Soc music”

୨ You most likely don’t understand anything about cars

୨ He could sit there for hours trying to explain stuff to you and it just won’t click

୨ He’s like “How can you remember every fucking Beach Boys song but not what an exhaust does??”

୨ Okay you probably aren’t that dense but still

Dallas

୨ Yeahhh, he’s making fun of you

୨ It’s out of love tho 😇 most of the time..

୨ You constantly make references about comics and shows and he has no clue what you’re talking about

୨ You use the word kryptonite around him and he’s like “..What the HELL did you just say to me?”

୨ Most of the things you ramble about, he doesn’t understand, like, at all

୨ Much to his dismay, he can’t help his features from softening when he watches you do it

୨ You definitely gives him a break from all the reckless crazy stuff he does

୨ You use so many big words (they usually aren’t that crazy) and he’s just like “Could you speak English?”

୨ When he first went inside your room, it was covered in posters from movies like ‘Dracula,’ ‘Creature from the Black Lagoon,’ ‘Psycho,’ ‘Frankenstein,’ ‘The Birds,’ etc

୨ At first he was like “Jesus…” but really he thought it was pretty cool

୨ You guys are horror movie enjoyers⁉️

୨ You’re probably more of a geek over them than he is, but it’s just barely (he’d never admit it)

Soda

୨ You definitely fangirl over The Beatles and it lowkey hurts his feelings

୨ You have to be like “Soda.. you literally look like a movie star why are you worried-”

୨ Yes you know Paul’s blood type, time of birth, and who his fourth cousin twice removed is; so what? 🙄

୨ Knowledge-wise you balance each other out

୨ You have amazing grades in all your classes and he’s dropped out 🤍 but on the other hand, you are not very street smart

୨ Like if you have a gun held to your head, let’s hope they’ll ask you trivia about ‘The Twilight Zone’ for your freedom

୨ Anyways, he tries to keep up with and understand the stuff you talk about

୨ Give him time 💔 he’s trying

୨ He probably already knows a bit from having grown up with Pony, but it’s still nothing crazy

୨ He carries around extra wax for your braces in his pocket in case they ever start hurting you (idk if they were invented yet in the 60’s but let’s pretend)

୨ Throws wrenches and things like that at Steve if he says stuff about you

୨ You get pretty insecure since he’s so popular with girls and they usually aren’t like you; but he’s always reassuring you over it

Johnny

୨ You guys read comics together

୨ He’s a spider-man lover and I’ll die on this hill

୨ Someone write Johnny Cade spider-man au rn

୨ He’s constantly telling Dallas to “lay off” when he says stuff about you

୨ Finds your braces cute- he thinks they just add to your charm

୨ Anything that helps him somewhat escape reality, he enjoys; he gladly talks about nerdy stuff with you

୨ He gets along with Pony so well and he has most of those interests, and it’s the same way with you

୨ You guys sit in the lot and stargaze constantly; each time you point out and name the constellations along with explaining their backstories

୨ He listens with a fond smile on his face every time

୨ He thinks it’s cool you’re able to remember all of that

୨ You’re both just so cute I’m crying

୨ Whenever he comes over, he always admires the figures, posters, books, etc you have around your room

Pony

୨ Idc his ass is also a nerd

୨ Maybe not in the exact ways you are, but he definitely still is

୨ You help him in certain classes he’s not doing well in which he is extremely thankful for

୨ You guys also read comics together 😋

୨ Usually you make him read them out loud though since you love his voice and also think he’s good at the sound effects

୨ That being said, you both give each other book recommendations

୨ You guys go to the drive-in/theater together constantly and have heavy debriefings over all of the movies (mainly the sci-fi ones)

୨ You guys are both big fans of Elvis

୨ He’s a fan music-wise, you’re a fan of literally everything

୨ You’ve seen every single one of his movies. Multiple times.

୨ Definitely makes him a little jealous but he tells himself it’s not a big deal

୨ He can’t even be mad at you geeking out when he preforms on TV, he understands

୨ All that being said, you guys actually go really well together

[hihello-pinky]

Sight (4)

Suna Rintarou x F! Reader

Sometimes, it takes losing someone to finally see them. He wished he knew this before, but Rintarou had to learn this the hard way.

WARNINGS: descriptive smut, foul language, implied multiple rounds of sex

WC: 2.7k

Genre: Angst, Romance, Hurt/Comfort

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and in no way represents my views of the original anime/manga characters.

Here's part 4! As usual, thank you for waiting for the update. This is quite a short chapter and you can treat it as an extended calm before the storm.

Spoiler alert for the next part: that's where all hell breaks loose HAHA (okay, maybe an exaggeration).

Kindly reblog and/or leave a comment if you liked this short update!

part one part two part three

kofi ~

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT ‼️

˚✧₊⁎⁎⁺˳✧༚

If someone told you a few months ago that one morning you’d wake up to the sight of your husband watching you intently while you slept, you would have laughed at their face and dismissed them.

But alas, here you are, slowly blinking the sleep away from your eyes as you make out Rintarou’s face. You half expect him to turn away and pretend he wasn’t watching you but to your surprise, he only raises an eyebrow at you. “Morning”.

You try to sit up but immediately groan as your body protests in pain. Rintarou chuckles a little as he offers help. “Too sore?”

“And whose fault is that?” You retort as you let him help you while at the same time trying to hide your blushing face, knowing that you’re miserably failing.

Rin hums before replying with a smirk. “I definitely wasn’t the one who sugggested for more…”

Your eyes widen before you playfully swat his hands away. He laughs again, the sound foreign to your ears not but unwelcome. You silently hope you’ll be able to hear it a lot more often soon. “Rintarou!”

The two of you are interrupted by the sound of incessant knocking on your bedroom door. It prompts you to look at the clock. “Oh my god, it’s late!”

Rintarou tilts his head to the side. “It’s Saturday though?”

Before you can answer, the sound of your kids’ concerned voices rings through the door. “Mom? Dad? Where are you… We’re scared.”

You hear a muffled groan from your husband as he pulls away from you and you hastily get yourself prepared.

~~~

Suna watches as you cook pancakes for breakfast. He can hear the kids playing in the living room, the sound of the cartoons they had insisted to “watch” playing in the background.

“Is it not tiring?”

You send him a curious glance before returning your attention to the pan. “Cooking?”

“All the house work,” he clarifies as he moves from the kitchen island to join you near the stove. “You never tried to ask if we could hire a new helper when Jiri left.”

He feels you tense a bit once he’s standing close to you. “I like doing all the work.”

“Still, a little help would have been nice, right?”

He’s surprised when you turn to him, an outstretched hand holding a spatula. With a smile, you tell him, “Not from a stranger.

Suna reluctantly takes the tool from you and you laugh a liittle. “You don’t know how to cook?” He feels sheepish as he nods. You purse your lips. “Okay. Maybe you can help with other chores.”

As you try to take the spatula back from him, Suna softly grasps your hand. The action surprises even him.

“What?” He tries to conceal a smirk as he notices the faint blush beginning to color your face.

“I’d like it if we spend a few hours every week where you teach me the ways around the kitchen.”

“I’m not really good at cooking. Why don’t you ask Osamu instead?”

Suna gives you a rather mischievous smile as he maneuvers your hands so that the spatula is placed on the counter. Your fingers are intertwined, his wedding ring digging into yours “I’m not married to Osamu, why would I want to spend time in the kitchen with him?”

~~~

“Grandpa, Grandma, Mommy and Dad almost burned the kitchen!” You watch as Risa. runs towards her grandmother’s open arms while Ryuu runs to his grandfather.

Rintarou’s mother sends you a curious look and before you can respond, he goes to her and kisses her on the cheek. “We just got pre-occupied.”

The statement makes Rintarou’s mother let out an excited squeal as she beams at you. “Are we going to expect some good news soon?”

You instantly blush, realizing what she was implying. “T-That’s not…"

“Honey,” Your father-in-law says as your husband hands him the kids’ bags. “Don’t embarrass them like that.”

The statement reminds you that over the past years, the two of you have somehow managed to convince Suna’s parents that after the forced marriage, you were able to actually work out together as a couple. Though you wonder how stories of Rin’s numerous affairs manage to evade them.

You go and give goodbye hugs to your children. “You two behave, okay?”

Ryuu nods and smiles at you, his smile very similar to his father’s. “Yes, Mommy. Risa is the one who doesn’t behave.”

Your daughter’s protests die down as you plant a kiss on the top of her head. “Shh, Risa. Don’t listen to your brother’s teasing.”

Rintarou laughs a little as he ruffles the kids’ hairs one after the other. “Don’t give your grandma and grandpa headaches, okay?”

“Okay, Dad!"

As soon as Rin’s parents and the kids drive off, you’re left alone with him. “I should probably go do laundry…”

“Do you need help?” He asks as he shuts the front door.

“Not really…”

“But…?"

A small smile finds its way to your lips. “But if you want to help, I’m not gonna stop you.”

~~~

When you let Rintarou help you in doing the laundry, you weren’t expecting that it wouldn’t be the only thing he’d be… doing. You can barely recall the things leading to your current predicament: you seated on top of the washing machine as Rin slowly thrusts into you.

“Shit,” he curses against your ear hotly. “This feels so good.”

Your grip on his bicep tightens at the pleasure coursing through your body. “Rin, I’m almost there.”

At your words, his movements speed up. His heavy pants not helping you hold back your release. You tighten around him and just as you reach your orgasm, Rin thrusts harder. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! I’m gonna cum.”

Groans and heavy breathing reverberate in the laundry room as you’re both trying to recover from your orgasms.

He’s the one who catches his breath first. “I’m gonna pull out, okay?”

Too exhausted to come up with a reply, you only nod your head. However, the drag of his cock as he pulls out makes you whine in sensitivity and you reach out to his arm to try to slow him down.

“Fuck, sorry.” You close your eyes as you feel your mixed liquids beginning to slip out. Neither of you try to wipe them.

Rin breaks the silence before it can fully take place. “I have a question.”

“Hmm?”

“How come you never got pregnant despite the times I fucked you in the last four years?”

Despite your current position, his question still makes you blush. You only mutter one word. “Contraceptives.”

He’s quiet for a while. “I see.”

~~~

For the rest of the day, Rintarou helped you in doing the house chores. But for every time you finish one task, you somehow find yourself doing some sort of… intimate act with him.

“Listen, I’m happy to hear that you’re both spending more time together,” Sacha says over the phone. “But it’s concerning me that all you do is have sex. Do you two even talk?”

You’re currently propped against your bed while Rin is in the shower. You look at the door to the bathroom before turning back to your phone screen, where Sacha is currently doing her night skincare routine. “We do talk… just about regular stuff.”

Even through Facetime, you can hear the deep sigh from your friend. “That’s not good. At all.”

You know it as well but truth be told, you’re scared to initiate deep or serious talks with your husband, the last time being when you asked him for divorce. “I’m aware but I don’t know how to bring it up. What if he decides to block me out again?”

Sacha gently taps the moisturizing cream on her cheek for better absorption. “Then this resolve of him trying to make your marriage work is a big fucking joke. Make sure to call him out.”

It’s your turn to let out a deep sigh. “Okay. I’ll try to find the perfect time to bring it up.”

In the background, you hear the shower turning off. “I’ll be hanging up now, ‘Cha. Talk to you again soon.”

“Sure, dear. And see you soon?”

“Yeah, see you soon.”

Sacha waves through the screen and makes a kissy face. “Bye! Love you!” You smile at your friend as you faintly hear the sound of the bathroom door opening.

“Love you too, bye!”

As the call ends, you feel Rintarou looking at you. You meet his gaze. “What is it?”

He blinks, as if only now realizing that he was staring. “Nothing,” he replies as he makes his way across the room to retrieve clothes.

Just like the night before, you try your hardest not to watch him, ignoring the way droplets of water slide from the tips of his hair down to his nape.

You try to break the silence that was starting to take over the room. “How was today? Doing chores with me?”

You can tell your question surprises him and you can’t even blame him. In your attempt to make small talk, that was the first thing that popped into your mind.

Suna pulls a gray tank top over his head as he wears sweats. He walks over to you after he drapes his towel against the chair by the vanity. “Fun, I guess.”

He stops at the edge of the bed, still standing, and cocks his head to the side as if daring you to ask him more questions. You decide to take the challenge. “Which parts were fun?”

Rintarou’s answer is immediate. “Spending time with you.”

In response, you can already feel the blood rushing to your cheeks, especially since the next question is already leaving your mouth. “You mean the part where we have sex?”

You half expect him to laugh, his lips curving into his signature smirk. Instead, he looks into your eyes seriously. “No. I meant the part where you were telling me what you usually do and showing me how I can help. I liked watching the way your brows furrow in concentration and the way your lips pout when you’re trying to think of how to explain stuff to me.”

He retains the eye contact as he finishes talking. When you don’t respond, he finally moves again and joins you on the bed. “Y/N.”

Your breath hitches as Suna comes closer. “Y-Yes?”

“We need to talk.”

You nod slowly, still processing what’s currently happening.

Rin shakes his head. “That’s not talking.”

You clear your throat. “Okay.” A long inhale. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Us.” His hand moves to hold yours but at the last second, he pulls back, putting it at his side instead. “I meant it when I told you weeks ago that I want to make our marriage work. But it’s not just about us not fighting anymore and being on good terms. It’s not just about me stopping with my cruel treatment of you from before.

“Do you know what the hardest part was for me for the past years? Fighting my attraction to you. What I’m trying to say is, I actually want a relationship with you, not just have marriage as merely a label.”

You open your mouth to speak but he puts a finger against it. “Let me finish, please?” The pleading look in his eyes, partnered with the gentleness with which he put his finger against your lips, urges you to nod in agreement.

“I know I was a horrible person to you. I took advantage of you when you were drunk because I was young and stupid and rebellious. Actually, I think I’m still stupid because when we were forced to get married, I threw away the chance of making it up to you and still treated you harshly. Instead of apologizing, I resented you because I thought you were taking away from me my freedom.

“And that’s fucked up because I was the one who took everything away from you. So, really. I don’t think I can ever apologize enough for everything I put you through. In fact, I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness. But if you ever decide to forgive me and give me a chance to make it up to you, I would cherish it.

“You’re beautiful, Y/N, and I’m not just pertaining to your physical appearance. You have a beautiful heart and soul, you’re a beautiful person who does not deserve everything that happened to you because of me. I’m sorry, I don’t think I will ever stop apologizing to you. But still, I want to have another real chance with you.

“I’ve been denying my attraction to you for years and I’m now tired of running away. I want to know you more, Y/N. And in return, I want you to know me as well. Will you give us a chance?”

Surely, he must be able to hear the loud thumping of your heart. You’re at a loss of words. This is the most he has ever spoken to you.

Suna looks at you gently. “You don’t have to answer right away.”

You know that, but still, you reach for his hand on the bed. “When I was younger and read stories of people giving second chances, I always got frustrated. Why would they risk getting hurt by the same person again? I told myself I would never make the same decisions as them.”

He adjusts your hands so that he can rub his thumb against your palm. His eyes do the talking for him. “Go on.”

“Yet, look at me. Weeks ago, I agreed to give our marriage a chance. And just now… I want to tell you that I feel the same about wanting to start over again. I want us to get to know each other more.

“I don’t know what’s next to come, if we’ll even have a happy ending. But I want to take the risk with you, Rin.”

Your eyes meet his and the sincerity in them almost makes you tear up. You remain with locked eyes until finally, he says, “I’m glad. Thank you, Y/N.”

What he does next makes your heart pound against your chest. He leans forward, his breath warm against your face as he squeezes your still intertwined hands. You feel your cheeks heat up as his lips touch your forehead.

Rintarou leans back and gives you a soft smile. “Let’s go to sleep?”

Still flustered from his sudden forehead kiss, you can only respond with a nod.

~~~

Suna has always been an early riser. As a student, the habit paid off a lot as it allowed him to have ample time for academics and volleyball. As a young adult, it was useful when it came to escaping from awkward morning-after conversations with his one night stands.

Now, he’s beginning to discover another appreciation for his body clock. Similar to the day before, waking up before you gives him time to observe your features.

You look peaceful when asleep.

Now that the denial of his attraction to you is thrown out the window, it seems to Suna that he can’t get enough of you. Your soft, steady breathing and the serene look on your face tugs at his heart.

The feeling of wanting to protect you from anything that can potentially hurt you almost makes him scoff at himself. After all, he was the one that hurt you in the past few years.

If he wants to protect you from pain, he really should just distance himself from you. But Suna knows that he’s a selfish person. So, he’ll take another route instead: change and improve himself. Be someone who won’t hurt you; someone worthy to stay at your side.

It’s the determination that came to him last night, when he had closed his eyes trying to go to sleep, basking in the warmth of your body beside him.

For all the years of taking you for granted, Suna vowed to himself that from now on, he’s going to cherish every moment he spends with you.

TO BE CONTINUED.

taglist (lmk if you wanna be added or if you changed your user): @warrior-of-justice @alisa--things @wolffmaiden @kurookinnie @simp-nerd-16  @alex-is-100 @k4g3hika @harukaaaaa172993 @themoonreflectsthesun  @lvjycrow @cantbedenied @sweetlikerockcandy @sirimiripetrichor @yamiakari-chi  @noideawhothatis @nervouscoffeetaco @lovemyfamily4ever-blog nervouscoffeetaco  kamukayakmonyet  yuqixidle ieathairs  cantbedenied  gariben  beomeomgyu  esmeisdrunk-blog  123j456l  iluv-ace  semitje @justablogforreblogs @alienvarmint @itohsi @tamimemo @mshope16 @jeonsfizz @syndyj @susuarin @ssc7514 @tkooooop @lialoveskaisersomuch @dilucsleftshoelace @bakingcuriosity

[astolfofo]

Aventurine + only one bed trope

(No you both have to sleep on the bed- don't try "I'll/He will sleep on the floor or anything of the sort)

That's it

Let is infest in your brain and stays there rent free

Written as me????? I guess???????. Realistically. I’d probably just take the blanket from him and use it like a sleeping bag. Or I’d just lay there. Unable to sleep at all. Because no way am I trusting him to be that close to me. Even while fully conscious. Probably couldn’t even move a centimetre because it’s gonna wake him up.

Okay note; UM SO I GOT CARRIED AWAY WITH THIS BRO IM. NAH IM GONNA REGRET THIS IN THW MORNING. 😭😭😭😭😭 if you open keep reading it’s raw dialogue with no editing just a fyi. It’s 4am. Cut me some slack 💀 also this is some really disjointed writing and prob ooc

————-

It had been a while since you had been forced to stay in a hotel. Sure, you liked staying away from home. But not under this kind of circumstance.

You just didn’t know what to expect. Aventurine had to practically drag you away from the platform (much against your own will. You had already boarded the train, ready to get the hell out of here) into an expensive-looking hotel. You assumed he had some kind of connection with this certain one because he didn’t even glance at the check-in counter. Just pulled you by the arm into one of the suites on the highest floor. You guess he chose the highest floor, specifically so you couldn’t get away that easily again.

the door clicks when you insert the card in, and you slowly push it open. The door seems to close very quickly, and you barely manage to hold it open.

It’s heavy.

You push the door open again, and and walk in. The door almost immediately slams shut this time, followed by two clicks.

one, was the door lock.

the second was a lock typically stored where a door chain was. It required a code to open. One that you didn’t know.

You then see the single bed in the middle of the room, and the colour instantly drains from your face. You were locked inside a room, stuck with none other than a suspicious man. A suspicious man that you were trying to get away from no less than two full hours ago.

you feel a gloved hand slink over your shoulder.. immidieately, you want to recoil. Sink into the floor. Run away. Slap the hand off. But you don’t. You stand there. Still.

“You didn’t expect me to let you off that easily did you?”

You don’t need to turn your head around to know who it is. You don’t want to hear his voice. Pretend he’s not there.

“You’re going to sharing the same room with me tonight,” he continues, leaning closer into you, “You’re okay with that, right?”

You didn’t respond. It wasn’t like you had a choice. You really should’ve brought that lock cutter along with you.

Aventurine doesn’t seem to mind though. You don’t ever recall seeing someone so giddly about anything. Ever.

——-

You stare at the single bed in the room. “Aventurine, there’s only one bed…”

He says nothing in return but you really do not want to see his facial expression right now either.

“Um… I guess… I’ll just sleep on the floor then. You can have the bed.”

“You’re not really suggesting you’re going to sleep on that cold, hard, floor without anything are you?”

“I’m not going to be sleeping anyways. It makes no difference whether I sleep on the floor or on the bed.”

“Seriously? You’d rather not sleep at all before even considering sharing a bed with me? Do you really hate me that much?”

“It’s not the first time I haven’t been able to sleep because of you,” You snapped. “plus, it’s not even the first night I didn’t sleep at all.” You added, ”I wouldn’t be able to sleep anyways if I had to share a bed with you.”

“Then why don’t I make you fall asleep, hm? Would you… prefer that instead?”

“Hell no! You’re the last person I’d let-“

“But your face is turning bright red, is it not?’

“Yeah well that’s because your embarrassing me!”

“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about you know…”

“Whatever. You’re not doing that. I won’t hesitate to saw that sorry thing off you if you even try it.”

“Oh that’s such a scary threat,” He replies, sarcastically. “But I promise you… that when we do it… you won’t want me to stop.”

He leans closer. “You’ll be begging me not to stop. I’m going to make a mess out of you. I’m going to fuck you until this cute little personality of yours melts away. Until you can’t even remember your own na-“

You throw a pillow and hit him square in the face. “You…. You…”

He laughs and pulls the pillow off his face. “You’re interested now, aren’t you?”

“I am NOT. Interested. Disgusted would be a better term to suit what I just heard.”

“Suit yourself.” He shrugs, “It’s going to happen one day though, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Last thing you could make me do is enjoy… that.”

“You can say that all you want, darling.”

You glare at him hard enough that he puts his hands up as a sign of peace.

”So anyways, do you want the left side of the bed or the right side of the bed?”

[dira333]

I'd rather have one Snorlax than the whole world - Murasakibara Atsushi x Reader

tagging @true-deru and @alienaiver for the Pokemon theme even though I don't know if you know this Anime

“What kind of Pokemon would you be?” Kise asks just as you all sit down to eat.

“What kind of stupid ass question is that?” Aomine asks back.

“You’re just angry because you’d be something stupid like Electrode,” Kise snarks.

“Quiet, Jigglypuff,” you tell him off, swatting at Atsushi’s hand when he goes for your dessert.

“But it’s Matcha Flavored,” he whines, “You don’t even like that.”

“Still. You’ve got to ask.”

“Can I have your dessert-”

“I am NOT Jigglypuff,” Kise cries, interrupting Atsushi.

“The iffy one? For sure.” Aomine snorts, getting out of the way when a book comes flying, smacking Kise in the head.

“What was that for?” Kise wails, rubbing his reddening cheek.

“You interrupted me,” Atsushi points out, voice dripping with annoyance before he turns to you again. “Can I have your dessert please?”

You sigh. “You didn’t have to hit him for that. Sure you can.”

“Yay,” he wiggles around a bit on the bench, knocking his hip into yours. “You can have my veggies.”

“Forget it, they’re for you to eat.”

-

“I’m telling you, Kurokocchi, you’d totally be a Squirtle. Your hair has the perfect color for it.”

“I am not sure-”

“And… and Midorimacchi is Turtwig. Green color and they both look kinda constipated.”

“Excuse me?!” 

With a sigh, Atsushi’s head drops onto yours.

“Tired?” You ask, rolling your shoulders back a little.

“They’re still at it,” he mumbles. “What’s so interesting about Pokemon?”

“Well, they all have some kind of character. It’s fun to compare.”

He’s quiet for a while.

“What Pokemon would I be?” His voice is so low, you barely catch it.

“I’ll tell you when we get out of here,” you promise, not wanting Kise to overhear. 

Atsushi huffs and sits beside you, pretending to look into the book you’re reading. Soon enough though, his head sinks onto your shoulder and his breathing evens out.

You let him sleep, even though it’s a little uncomfortable. After all, they have only so few breaks in between Class and Training.

-

Somewhere in front, Kise’s still discussing Pokemon choices, unable to find one that fits Akashi well enough to present it. 

Satsuki’s hanging off Kuroko’s arm, asking him what kind of Pokemon he thinks she’d be most like.

It’s still warm out, the approaching fall season not yet strong enough to fight the last remnants of summer. Still, Atsushi’s warm hand feels nice, wrapped around yours.

It’s not that you haven’t told anyone that you’re dating yet. 

It’s just that no one thought to ask. 

You’re pretty sure that both Kise and Aomine have no clue. After all, Atsushi is neither less nor more affectionate toward you than he was before.

Midorima would blow a fuse if he knew, so whatever he’s thinking about all the time, it’s not the relationship status of his friends.

Satsuki has only eyes for Kuroko and Kuroko, well… He knows. He knows for sure. 

But just like Akashi, he knows when to stay quiet about a topic, choosing to let it play out the way it wants to, smiling knowingly whenever Atsushi drapes himself over you.

“Okay guys, Satsuki, we’re leaving.” You call after them, motioning at the turn in the road that leads you home. “See you tomorrow!”

“See you!” Satsuki waves her hand exaggeratedly. “Let me do your hair tomorrow, okay?”

“We’ll see!” You tell her, which translates to a “Nowhere in hell” but she laughs and nods and runs after the others.

-

Atsushi’s quiet as you walk the rest of your way home, his thumb drawing odd shapes into the back of your hand.

“What’s on your mind?” You ask when your house comes into view, knowing full well he’s going to crash there first, taking a quick nap before entering the madness that is his own home - five children with equally large appetites do not create a peaceful atmosphere.

“I was thinking about what Pokemon you would be.”

“Oh?” You turn, curious.

“I don’t know,” he admits. “The only one I know is Pikachu but you’re cuter.”

“Aww, that’s so sweet.” You coo, pulling your joined hands up as if to kiss it before biting into his. “I could eat you up.”

He laughs, the sound rumbling through him.

“You’re so weird.”

“You love it.”

“I do.”

You smile up at him at that, pulling him up the stairs to your bedroom.

“You know what Pokemon you are?” You ask, managing to fluff up one pillow before he drops onto them like dead weight.

“What?”

“Snorlax.” You grin, flopping down on top of him.

“Because Snorlax is big and lazy and cuddly and sweet and he likes to eat and sleep and do nothing all day.”

“Hmmm…” Atsushi pulls you in, hooking his head over your shoulder. “What a life.”

[2knightt]

IM SORRY, I KNOW U GOT A REQUEST ON THIS SO MUCH ALREADY BUT…

Your motherly!reader fics are so good 😭! can you pleasee do another? platonic with the gang!! no romance 🥰 thank youu ❤️❤️❤️ your work is amazing btw!

the gang x motherly!reader

!warnings!

1.i did headcanons i hope thats okay😭

2.fem!reader

3.swearing and a small mention of violence.

Johnny Cade ;

like i’ve said before in other fics, he loves you so much.

honestly, you might be one of his favourite people!

when he walks down the street and he just so happens to see a cute flower, he picks it and gives it to you!

when he first met you, he refused to see you when he was injured in anyway. he thought you’d think he was weak and never see him again.

but as time went on, and you showed that you genuinely cared for him, he showed more of his vulnerable side.

johnny likes it when you patch him up now!

he thinks it’s calming, relaxing, and a, ‘nice change of things rather than lettin’ mother nature cure it.’

when he unknowingly/accidentally vents to you about his home life, he does get embarrassed.

he didn’t want you knowing, but when you hugged him real tight and told him sweet nothings?? he teared up ngl.

johnny wishes you could’ve been his mom.

when or if you have kids, johnny wishes they don’t take the, ‘how was your day?’ and the, ‘how’s school going?’ for granted.

because to johnny cade, that would be his perfect fairytale.

having someone as sweet as you to turn his life around, makes him excited to see tomorrow.

Dallas Winston ;

another bitch with mommy issues who is glad to have you.

mrs.curtis was definitely the mother he never had but always wanted and when she died, he was devastated.

but when you came along and started being that mother he missed??? he was both annoyed and over the moon.

he didn’t like that every time you bailed him out of jail, he got an ear full. however, he did like to know verbally that someone cared about him

he doesn’t show you any sort of affection, but he will tell you how he feels when drunk.

“thank you, so much y/n. i-i don’t know where i’d be without you.”

for mothers day, he doesn’t do anything special.

BUT—you didn’t hear this from me, before the clock hits 12, expect to hear like a cute little knock at your door, and open it to see a single flower on the ground with a pack of cigarettes.

dally ran off before you or anyone else could see him.

even though he didn’t sign his name, you knew it was from him. so, next time you see him, say thank you.

Ponyboy Curtis ;

he’s like a toddler around you???

ponyboy definitely pretends to be like, your own bodyguard.

but really, who’s scared of ponyboy?

he tries though!

when he watches a movie and some character reminds him of you, expect that to be the first thing he tells you.

“ya know, when i went to the drive in, you really reminded of this one character.”

“oh? why’s that?”

“well because-“

and now you have to sit there and listen to him.

he’ll draw for you so much :(.

if you tell him your favourite flower, he WILL give you a drawing of it the next day. he’ll stay up all night if he has too!

Sodapop Curtis ;

he’s literally your #2 fan. first place goes to johnny.

he’s your biggest hypeman??? omg???

“gee, y/n! you’re lookin’ real fancy!! gonna get all the guys, eh?”

when ponyboy and darry argue and he just can’t take it anymore, he calls you and asks to come over.

and of course, you say yes everytime.

so please, PLEASE, just let him cry into your arms!!!!

when he’s done, he’ll try to go home but i’m begging you to tell him he’s welcomed to stay the night.

and if he does stay? ponyboy will be at your doorstep too.

he’ll share his famous chocolate cake with you!! he’ll make sure steve doesn’t touch it.

“STEVE THAT WAS FOR Y/N! ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!”

“OH SHIT SHIT SHIT! WE MAKE MAKE ONE TOGETHER! THE MORE PEOPLE THE FASTER THE CAKE WILL BAKE RIGHT?!”

“DO I LOOK LIKE A SCIENTIST??”

Darry Curtis ;

he is so thankful for you i legit can’t stress that enough.

you keep the gang in check, you keep ponyboy happy, and you help him around the house. what more could he ask for?

you legit force darry to relax while you look after the gang to make sure nothing bad happens.

“we’ll be fine, darry. go to bed, your dark circles are gettin’ darker by the minute.”

“yeah super-man! we’ll be fine with y/n!”

“yeah!!”

“fine, but if she wakes me up to tell me about any of you, so god help me.”

if you welcome him home with a newspaper and his favourite cup of coffee after a long day at work, he might ask you to move in.

Steve Randle ;

steve pretends that he doesn’t like you that much.

but he really does. like, the second he hears some soc threaten or insult you? he’s after them.

shit, he might be chasin’ after them in two-bits car while two-bit yells at the person.

he will legit go to war for you if you asked him nicely.

he will rant to you about cars if you let him😭.

he’ll rant to you about anything, honestly.

“and then the old bastard asked for a refund! the ‘no refunds’ sign was right on the door! how could that old bat not see it?!”

“steve! don’t call people that, but yes, it was very rude of that man to do that too you.”

“RIGHT?!”

Two-bit Matthews ;

he forces you to relax and watch mickey mouse with him.

he says it’s for your own good but when really, he just wants to spend time with you without the gang interrupting.

“guys! you’re stressing her out with all your STUPID questions! c’mon, y/n, mickey mouse is calling our names. can’t you hear it?”

“or maybe its the booze you had at 10AM.”

“i will sock you in your fucking throat steve.”

he plays with your hair…he finds it fun!

please tell him how to do some styles so he can go home and impress his little sister :(.

he offers you beer every once and awhile just so he can say he got you to loosen up.

“so y/n…you want some?”

“oh! no thank you, two. you know i don’t drink.”

he calls you mom in a joking way, ya dig?

“momm! steve called me a dumbass!”

“steve, be nice! apologize.”

“what the fuck?!”

author notes ;

1. i like totally rushed near the end LMFAO.

2. i never thought you bitches would eat motherly!reader up like this??

3.are you guys okay??

4.THANK U SWEETHEART OMFG??

5.i think theres no romance??

may 15th, 2023. 6:39PM

[solxamber]

Solicitous — Geto Suguru x reader

Geto Suguru always thought that staying by your side had been enough. But when he thinks that you might choose to go to his best friend over him, he can't help the bitter feelings that arise, till he's met with an unexpected truth: your heart had always been his.

The rain patters lightly against the window, a soft rhythm that slightly soothes his pounding head. His head aches, his body weak and feverish, but it’s not just the flu that’s weighing him down. It’s the thought of you—choosing to take care of Satoru, like he’s sure you will. After all, Satoru is strong, funny, and annoyingly good-looking. Why wouldn’t you choose him?

Suguru sighs, pulling his blanket up around his shoulders as he glances toward the door. He tries not to let the bitterness creep in, but it does, swirling in the pit of his stomach. You’ve always seemed close with Satoru, laughing at his ridiculous antics, smiling when he teases you.

Suguru thinks maybe he’s been reading too much into the times you’ve stayed by his side, fussing over him with that warm, caring gaze. Of course, you'd choose Satoru.

Just as his thoughts spiral deeper into insecurity, a soft knock echoes through the room. His heart stutters—he’s not ready for this. He isn’t ready to see you walk through that door with all your affection meant for someone else.

“Suguru?” your voice calls softly as you step inside, carrying a tray with a bowl of steaming soup. His eyes widen in surprise, but he quickly composes himself, mustering a weak smile.

“You’re here?” he asks, voice raspy and disbelieving. He thought you’d be with Satoru.

You set the tray down on the bedside table, sitting beside him and running your fingers through the hair that had fallen into his face. “Of course I’m here. I came to take care of you.”

He opens his mouth, then closes it again, unsure what to say. The knot in his chest tightens. “But… Satoru…”

“Satoru will be fine without me there” you say, waving off the concern as you spoon a bit of soup and hold it up to his lips. “I’m here for you, Suguru.”

He hesitates for a moment, his dark eyes searching your face for any sign that you’re lying, that you’d rather be anywhere else. But all he sees is genuine concern, affection even, and it while it makes his heart ache, a small hope also blooms with it.

He lets you feed him, savoring the warmth of the soup, though it does little to calm the storm brewing inside him. As you fuss over him, wiping his forehead with a cool cloth, tucking the blanket around his body, he feels the familiar crack in his resolve. He can’t keep pretending everything is okay.

“You don’t have to do all this,” he says quietly, eyes averting from yours. “You should’ve just gone to Satoru. I know you…" his voice cracks "like him."

You freeze, slowly retracting your hand from his forehead, looking at him in shock. “What?”

Suguru clenches his fists beneath the blanket, the words spilling out before he can stop them. “I see the way you look at him. He’s better than me, stronger. Of course, you’d choose him over me.”

Your brows furrow in confusion, and before you can respond, he continues, his voice trembling, filled with emotion he’s tried so hard to bury. “It hurts. Watching you with him, thinking you’d rather be with him than with me. I know I shouldn’t be jealous, he's my best friend but I can’t help it. I just—” He pauses, his breath hitching as a tear slips down his cheeks, the first real crack in the mask he’s been wearing for so long. “I can’t lose you to him.”

“Suguru…” you whisper, your heart breaking at the sight of him, so vulnerable, so open in his pain.

You cup his cheek, turning his face toward you so that he’s forced to meet your eyes. He blinks, the tears making his vision blurry, but he can still see the softness in your gaze, the tenderness that’s meant for him.

“I don’t like Satoru,” you say firmly, your voice steady. “I’ve never liked him like that. It’s always been you, Suguru. You’re the one I care about. You’re the one I love.”

For a moment, he just stares at you, as if your words don’t quite register. But then the weight of them sinks in, and his breath catches, more tears spilling over as he breaks down completely.

“You… you love me?” he chokes out, his voice barely above a whisper, like he’s afraid saying it too loudly might shatter the moment.

“I love you,” you repeat, your voice gentle and dripping with affection as you wipe away his tears, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.

A sob escapes him, and he pulls you into his arms, clutching you tightly against him as though he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go. His body shakes with the force of his emotions, and for the first time in a long time, Suguru lets himself cry without holding back, without pretending he’s okay.

You don’t let go. You hold him through it, your fingers gently threading through his hair, your lips pressing soft kisses to his temple, his cheek, his jaw, until his sobs begin to quiet.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice hoarse. “I’ve been so stupid.”

“You’re not stupid, maybe a little dense, but not stupid” you murmur, brushing his hair away from his face. “You’ve been hurting, and you didn’t want anyone to see it.”

He sniffs, pulling back just enough to look at you, his eyes still red and puffy from crying. “You still love me, even after all that?”

You smile softly, brushing your thumb over his cheek. “Of course I do, Suguru. I always will.”

Relief floods his system, and for the first time in what feels like forever, he allows himself to smile—a real, genuine smile that reaches his eyes. He leans in, pressing his forehead to yours, and for a moment, there’s nothing but the warmth of your breath mingling with his, the closeness of your bodies, and the quiet understanding that your eyes have always been on him.

“I love you,” he whispers, his lips brushing against yours.

And then you’re kissing him, slow and gentle, a promise of everything that’s to come, and in that moment, Suguru knows without a doubt that he doesn’t need to pretend anymore. He has you, and that’s enough.

Masterlist

he's so special to me :(( god i miss him sm

[her-satanic-wiles]

October 12th

Medical Play, Papa Emeritus III x Reader

Masterlist

Words: 2.5k

Warnings: Medical play; GN!Reader; dom!Reader?; cringey Terzo; subby!Terzo; established relationship; latex kink?; glove kink; hand job; mild praise; anal fingering; taunting; mild degradation; mild humiliation; power kink; mild edging; cum eating; cumswap; reads like an 80s porno; awful medical terminology, I'm sorry to all the doctors and nurses reading this lmao;

Taglist: @sodoswitchimage @enchantedbunny @bitchywitchygardener @thew0man @sodomiser @the-did-i-ask @copias-sewer-rat @gehrmansbignaturals

🔞 MDNI 🔞

The graveyard shift was always the worst - or rather, the slowest. As most of the Siblings were asleep in the dead of the night, you had free roam of the medical centre of the Ministry. Not that there was ever much to see given that it was hardly decorated and filled to the brim with medicine and multiple medical journals, all of which you’d perused on your off or slow hours.

Thankfully, your job was always made easier by the fact that no one in the Ministry was stupid enough to get themselves into a lot of trouble. Even during the day, the worst injury you’d seen was someone’s ritual or blood play wounds get infected, but thankfully it was easy enough to sort out. It was the most difficult thing, becoming a doctor and going through university - even getting a job within the Ministry itself was a difficult task. The job itself though - paid to read books mostly.

Though, it was different that night. Your socked feet were up on your desk and a book was in your lap. You were, of course, reading what your friends liked to call your “dirty girl books”, when there was a gentle knock at the door. “Come in!” You called. Immediately you brought your feet off the desk and put your bookmark in the book, hiding it from the view of your guest. You still didn’t want to appear unprofessional, even though there was no one around… well, almost no one.

The door opened to reveal a smaller man, black hair and wrinkles. You recognised him instantly. “Good morning, Papa.” You said, standing to your feet out of respect.

“Ah, hello, doctor. I hope I am not disturbing you while you are busy?” Terzo stood there in the doorway uncharacteristically awkward in his demeanour and make up chipping from his face. He looked tired.

You looked at the clock: four o’clock. It was so early. “I always have time for you, Papa. How can I help you?”

“Ah, it is a little embarrassing, doctor.”

“Whatever it is I’m here to help, judgment-free.”

This was the moment you’d been waiting for. The thing is - you weren’t Terzo’s personal physician. Given the nature of their job and the importance of their status, each of the Papas had their own personal physicians at their beck and call all times of the day and night. You weren’t part of that club, rather, dealing with the rest of the Ministry including the Ghouls and the Clergy. You may not have been Terzo’s physician, but you were his partner… so to speak. This whole arrangement had been set up and pre-decided weeks ago, and when he had time, he’d drop in to see you with some “medical emergency” and you would be the doctor to “treat him”. You would pretend not to know each other which was the most crucial part of the whole scene. So now you were just waiting for Terzo to say his next line, not that you knew what his next line was.

“Well you see, I am an old man. And my, how do you say? My dick is broken.”

This fucking guy.

“Okay, in what way?”

“It doesn’t stand for very long. It grows tired very quickly, like me. Or my fratello.”

Please don’t compare your penis to your brothers.

“R-right.” You blinked at him a few times, not quite expecting him to be so forthcoming with his “issue” - or even quite so chaotic. “Please come and take a seat on the bench for me.” He did as you instructed. “Would you mind unbuttoning your shirt, Papa?”

“Ah, doctor, that is the other thing. My fingers are tired today, too. I am afraid they can’t unbutton anything.”

Of course they can’t.

He looked at you and gave you the biggest shit-eating grin, clearly eating up his role. Despite knowing Terzo as intimately as you did for a number of years, he still managed to find ways to fluster you.

You moved forward, trying your best not to smile and keep it “professional”, but the excitement within him was simply radiating off of him and infecting you. He was, for lack of a better term, buzzing with it. Your fingers carefully began to unbutton his white shirt and avoiding his gaze, but you could feel it on you. His mischievous eyes studying you and your expression so intently you were sure it would leave a mark.

Once his incredibly hairy chest was completely exposed to you, you took the stethoscope from around your neck and set yourself up to use it. “This may be a little cold.” You warned before placing the bell over his heart. Of course, this wasn’t a real check up, so it didn’t matter what you heard. In fact, you were only doing this for his benefit because you knew he’d want it.

“Can you hear that, doctor?” He asked.

“There’s nothing unusual.”

“But my heart, you should hear that it beats only for you.”

This. Fucking. Guy.

It took everything in you not to blush or react to his words in any way. “Okay, I think we should do a few tests just to make sure everything’s okay. Would you mind removing your pants, Papa?”

You took a step back and allowed Terzo to stand from the bench and do as you’d asked. You looked away to feign privacy, despite the fact that you’d been up close and personal with that part of his body for a long while. But out the corner of your eye, you noticed that the little shit had decided to forgo underwear. How you were surprised was a mystery unto itself.

“You know, doctor, usually I buy ladies dinner before I let them undress me in their offices.” He teased.

“Usually ladies don’t examine you for erectile dysfunction.” You taunted back. “Are you ready, Papa?”

“Of course, doctor. I await your professional opinion.” He plonked himself back up on the bed and leant back confidently, completely exposing himself to you. He was enjoying this game a little too much for your liking. You began prepping your hands, first sanitizing them then putting latex gloves on to keep up appearances. When you moved back over to him, you noticed that his mismatched eyes were heavily trained on you, only moving when you did and fixating on your gloved hands. Time to bullshit your way through this. “To make sure you can maintain a healthy erection, we need to give you one first. Is this normally something you have a problem with?”

“Not at all. Usually my partner is able to get me up just by looking at me.”

You nodded. “So you won’t need any help from me today, then?”

“On the contrary, doctor. My partner is not here, and so I am having trouble. Please take care of me.”

He gave you the best doe eyes he could muster knowing that it would work on you because it usually did. And so, you nodded, and poured some of the office’s lubricant onto your hand. “This will be cold.” You warned him.

As soon as your lubed hand made contact he hissed and jumped, perhaps making more of a show of it than he ought to. Your hand began to work away at his flaccid length, which was filling up with blood a lot quicker than you anticipated. With each tight stroke of your hand, Terzo’s hips bucked slightly. He wasn’t quite ready or sensitive enough for it to feel mind-numbingly good, but the little breaths and whimpers he was releasing was proof enough that it was working. One of his own gloved hands came up to your arm and gripped onto it, trying to keep himself grounded. The other hand grasped onto the bench with as much force as he could.

You tightened your grip and began focusing entirely on the head of his cock, making sure he was feeling as much pleasure as possible. The feeling of the lubed latex on his head had his mind reeling. His eyes were tightly shut, his bottom lip had been taken into his mouth and trapped between his teeth. He was trying so hard to keep up the pretense but he was obviously feeling good. You decided to be a bitch. “Tell me, Papa, what do you usually do to keep the erection?”

“What?” He asked, opening his eyes and coming to his senses.

“Well, this is a new problem, isn’t it? What usually works? What usually feels good?”

Terzo, whom you had never seen so flustered before, gulped and took in a sharp inhale before continuing. “M-my partner usually uses their mouth.”

“Where?”

“What?”

“Where does their mouth go?”

“M-my cock and sometimes my a-asshole.”

You moved your other hand to his taint and then to the rim of his hole. “Here?”

“Yes! Merda! There!”

Then, all of a sudden, you removed all of your hands and took a step back. “You seem to be healthy, Papa. I think maybe you’re just stressed.”

His eyes were wide and he couldn’t quite believe you’d done that. “What?”

“Lack of sleep can also be a cause of dysfunction. Do you get enough sleep?”

“Yes. Doctor, I- I am confused.”

“What with?”

“Well, I… you… stopped.”

“Of course, Papa. You needed help maintaining an erection, we’ve since discovered that you don’t struggle with that regularly, and you’re certainly not now.”

“You can’t just leave me like this.” He gestured to his now angrily erect cock before muttering something in Italian, clearly irritated by you.

“Maybe if you were to ask nicely, I might help you out.”

Terzo hesitated for a second, clearly wanting to say something but not wanting to either be so desperate that he begs for it, but also being to embarrassed to say anything. He was perhaps the filthiest person you knew, never shy or bashful, but apparently when his partner had the upper hand he was a total mess.

“Per favore.”

“Not good enough. Try again.”

“Will you… help me out?”

“Sure, what with?”

“Porca puttana! Make me cum… please, Doctor.”

He almost forgot himself.

You stood and sauntered back over to him applying more lube to your gloved hand as you passed that shelf. “Good boy.” You told him with a teasing smile, wrapping his cock back up in your hand and continuing exactly where you left off. “Nothing wrong with you now, is there? You’re keeping it up well enough, aren’t you?”

The same hand that was gripping onto the bed had moved up onto your shoulder, a gorilla grip on it. His eyes were open but focused on the wall, glazed over a little in the sheer pleasure your hand was providing. Your other hand went straight back to the rim and began rubbing over it again. His noises got louder when you did, hips having a mind of their own. The position wasn’t great so you got him to sit back, keeping him width-ways on the bench with his cheeks on the edge and his feet propped up and legs spread. You cursed your boss for giving you the wrong chair to use for today, what you would have killed to use the gynecology chair with the stirrups. It would have humiliated him so much to be so exposed. He would have loved it. Though he looked like such a whore in this position, you thought perhaps this was more humiliating.

With more lube on your hands, one went back to his head, and the other started pushing inside his hole. His mouth dropped open in a perfect ‘O’ and his brow furrowed, the pleasure almost overwhelming him. “We do have to make sure all parts of you are working correctly, hm? Especially this nice little button in here.”

“Cazzo!”

Only your pinkie was inside him at the moment. You didn’t want to hurt him and as he hadn’t pre-stretched himself out, you thought it was best to take your time. You wiggled it around a little, trying to make his hole fit two of your better, and kept at it until he was lose enough. Eventually, your index and middle fingers were able to fit inside him, and so you went in search of that button you mentioned. “Touch your cock for me.” You instructed. Like the obedient whore he was today, he did as you asked, wrapping his own hand around the head and moving quickly. “Ah-ah.” You scolded. “Slow down.”

“But-”

“Slow!”

His hand gradually put the breaks on, dropping to an almost torturous level. You could see how much it pained him. Given the fluttering of his hole around your two fingers, you could tell he was already too close. He was too overwhelmed. He needed that sweet release that you were refusing to give him. Why? Why wouldn’t you just make him cum? Why would you drag it out as much as you did? He couldn’t fathom it. But he was so desperate to finish he couldn’t ask you to stop.

This was a completely different man in front of you. The head of the Satanic Church was riding your fingers in your office as if he didn’t hold all of the power. Because right now he didn’t. You did. In his desperate need to cum, he was obeying your orders down to the letter. He was whining and writhing for you and only you. No one else got to see him like this: his entire body on fire and chasing a release he’d practically been begging for since he entered the medical ward, drool dripping from the corner of his mouth where it had opened so wide, and loud moans were spilling out with it. His pants completely removed and his white shirt unbuttoned completely. He was positively sinful right now - a proper Babylonian whore giving himself to another for his own pleasure. And oh how he sang for you when you reached that spot. How he stopped breathing when you finally hit it. How expletives poured from his lips to cope with the devastating bliss your fingers were giving him. Choruses of “yes!” and “right there!” and “don’t stop!” providing him comfort while you had your way with him. His own hand matched yours and as you got faster, so did he. He was so close. He could almost taste the sweet release that was on its way to him.

It was when your hands came up to play with his balls he finally tipped over the edge. Cum spurted from his cock and pooled over his hairy stomach, and even reaching up his chest in the intensity of the orgasm he was experiencing. His toes curled and his body seized up. You were, the whole time, talking him through it. “That’s it,” you told him, “give it all to me, Papa. Give me everything. Such a good boy.”

When you were sure he was fine, you gently removed yourself from inside him and bent forward, your tongue running through his spend and lapping it up into your mouth, keeping it there. You looked up at him and saw his eyes were ablaze with something. More lust? Frustration that you were doing something so sexy and he was too tired to do anything about it? You weren’t entirely sure. But the moan he released when you kissed him, swapping his cum from your mouth to his was enough to tell you all was forgiven… at least for now.

Previous Day ⛧ Next Day

[scarletemeraldpurple]

Kinktober (was supposed to be) Day 20: Daddy Kink

Daddy! Agatha x transfem! Bottom! Reader

Agatha takes you home after a lovely date, and can just sense what you need.

Notes: Reader receives oral (‘bulge’ and taint), lots of praise and reassurance, lots of “good girl” “baby girl” etc.

She was just stunning. So put together. So sure of herself. She ordered for you at the restaurant. She didn’t pick out your meal no no, you mentioned being nervous about your pronunciation at this authentic Greek restaurant, so she offered to order for you. She was a polyglot you see, she spoke fluent Greek, as well as Italian, French, and Mandarin, oddly enough. She didn’t mind ordering for both of you at all. Either didn’t notice, or was totally understanding of the anxiety it gave you.

She was fascinating, you could listen to her talk forever. And yet, she kept turning turn conversation back to you, for some reason that you couldn’t ascertain, she seemed as interested in you as you were in her.

You offered to pay for dinner and she quickly shushed you, not even letting you pay for your half.

“Let me take care of this.” She said, gently squeezing your hand. Your heart fluttered.

—

She offered her arm as you two started on a walk after dinner. You took it.

Thank you Daddy. A small part of you said internally. You quickly shooed that thought away. You barely knew her. That was weird. She didn’t need to know you were weird.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about hon?”

“Oh, nothing.” You lied.

Agatha hummed, not believing you. You felt like she could see right into you.

“Lovely night.” She mused as you two walked around the city.

“Mhm.” You responded. It was just a touch chilly, but Agatha’s arm was warm. You wished you could be a bit closer to her.

She looked at you, her eyebrows raised for a second. “You must be cold sweetheart. Take my jacket dear.”

“Oh no I’m okay.”

“I insist. That flimsy little blouse and you didn’t bring a jacket?” She tsked. “Good thing your Da-date’s here to take care of you.” She said as she wrapped her long blue coat around your shoulders.

Her hand moved to rubbing your back and it took all of your focus to keep walking. Eventually she settled on your lower back, guiding you down the sidewalk. You consciously took deep breaths, pretending to look at the buildings you two passed.

Agatha could see how flustered you were, it was quite cute. “You know, my appartement’s not far from here, why don’t we get you properly warmed up. I could make to some tea or coffee, decaf of course.”

You looked at her surprised.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I can help you get home if you’d rather.”

“No! I mean, that sounds really nice.”

She smiled at you. “Yeah? I’m just a couple blocks up, we’ll be there soon.”

—

She lived in the fanciest building in the area. Always wanting to be helpful, you started walking a little faster to get the door for her.

“Hon, you need a key fob to open the door.”

“Oh. Yeah that makes sense.”

“The effort was very sweet though.” Agatha said as she tapped you two in and led you inside. Her hand went back to the small of your back as she led you to the elevator.

She pressed the 10 button. You let out breath.

She turned to you, leaning an arm against the wall. She wasn’t really much taller than you, but her Presence obfuscated that.

“Something tells me you’re normally the one taking care of people.”

“Well, y-yeah you could say that. I mean it’s not like I mind.”

Agatha looked at you sympathetically. “Of course, it’s nice to take care of people, but you can’t pour from an empty cup can you?”

“What are you saying?” You said, staring into those deep blue eyes.

“I’m saying, I want you to let me take care of you tonight. Let Daddy take care of everything. Sound okay to you baby?” Agatha asked, cupping your face gently.

You felt those words go straight to between your legs. “Yes Daddy.” You said breathlessly.

“Oh you really needed this didn’t you? You poor thing,” Agatha said, brushing a few strands of hair away from your face, “but that’s okay darling, Daddy’s got you now.”

She kissed you, firmly but not roughly, not yet. You found yourself being backed into the corner of the elevator, Agatha’s hands feeling up your sides and back. Before you knew it the elevator dinged, bringing you out of your lust induced daze.

“Come along baby, I did say I would warm you up properly.”

—

Her apartment was quite spacious. Agatha held your hand and led you around.

“Shall we have some tea darling? Or should I warm you up in another way?” She said, wrapping an arm around you.

You averted your eyes, only to be led back up to look at her by a finger on your chin.

“There’s no pressure baby, but if you want something, just ask.”

You looked at her nervously for a second, before taking the finger that was under your chin and put it in your mouth, giving her your neediest eyes.

Agatha licked her lips. “You need Daddy to take care of you don’t you baby? I can do that.”

She led you to her bedroom and flipped on a warm yellow light that perfectly set the mood. Her bed looked plush, with a dark purple comforter and grey sheets.

“I wanna put my mouth all over you baby.” Agatha husked into your ear from behind, wrapping her arms around you. She kissed your neck and you felt yourself start to melt.

“Everywhere?”

“Everywhere baby, I wanna taste you, want you to come undone on my tongue. Sound good to you babygirl ?”

“Yes Daddy”

“You’re such a good girl, let’s get these clothes off.”

You raised your arms as Agatha pulled off your shirt, moving to kissing your back and shoulders. You turned to her, showing off your black lacy bra.

Agatha bit her lip as she took you in. Her eyes darkened with desire.

“Can you lay back in the bed for Daddy so she can take your skirt off?”

“Yes Daddy”

You laid back, legs hanging over the foot of the bed.

Agatha knelt down in front of you and tugged at the waistband. You lifted your hips to make it easier for her.

Agatha smiled at your obedience. “Such a sweet girl, how has nobody else snatched you up?”

She spread your legs and pressed gentle kisses to your inner thighs, before surprising you with a bite.

You gasped and put a hand in her hair.

“Too hard baby?”

“No Daddy, but, maybe don’t go any harder?”

“Of course doll, thank you for saying something.”

She left a few more love bites on both of your thighs before putting her attention elsewhere.

She saw how you were dripping through your panties. She ran her tongue over the stained fabric, earning a gasp and some squirming from you.

“Can I take these off angel?”

“Yes Daddy, please do.” You smiled down at her.

“You’re so well behaved sweet girl, you’re driving me crazy.” Agatha crooned, causing you to blush.

She tugged down your panties, freeing your soft, dripping, bulge.

“Can I taste you baby?” Agatha said sweetly.

“Please Daddy.”

Agatha swirled her tongue around the head before sucking on it gently. She used one of her hands to gently rub your taint.

You squirmed from the sensation.

“Feeling good, sweet girl?”

“Really good Daddy, intense but good. Hard to think.”

“That’s okay baby, you don’t need to think. That’s my job baby. Just let Daddy take care of you.”

Agatha then moved her mouth down to where her hand was and licked up and down, seeking out the most sensitive spot with her tongue.

She gripped your thighs so you couldn’t squirm away.

Your head went blank from pleasure. Agatha continued going down on you but also brought a hand back to rub your head in firm circles.

“Oh fuck, Daddy—I’m close, Daddy please can I cum?”

“Cum for me babygirl.”

You bucked against her and came with a cry.

Agatha moved to lap up the cum that had landed on your stomach and then kissed her way up to your chest.

“I can’t believe I didn’t have you take this off, though it is very pretty.” Agatha said, tugging at your bra.

“I mean, it’s not too late to take it off right?” You responded.

“Of course not. No such thing,” Agatha smiled.

She made quick work of the fastenings and immediately cupped them. She rubbed her thumbs over your nipples, causing you to squirm.

“Sensitive babygirl?”

“Yes Daddy, but it feels good. You feel good.”

Agatha smiled at you before pulling you in for a kiss. You sucked on her tongue and she moaned, you could’ve cum again just from the sound.

“Such a good girl for Daddy.” She whispered against your lips.

“How can I make you feel good Daddy?”

“Oh baby, I already feel so good.” She tried to assure you.

You looked at her, as if you say “are you sure?”

“Tonight is all about taking care of you baby. Is that anything more you want? anything at all sweet girl?”

You fiddled with the comforter.

“Baby?”

“I don’t want to sound silly.”

“Nothing you say could be silly baby.”

“Can you hold me Daddy?” Your voice was so small. You were so embarrassed. You felt so vulnerable.

“I would love that babygirl, come cuddle with Daddy. But be warned,” she said with a kiss to your cheek, “I might not be able to let you go after tonight.”

You chuckled as she peppered you with kisses. “That doesn’t sound so bad.” You whispered.

She gave you the softest smile before stripping and climbing under the covers with you, holding you until you both fell asleep.