#what if... i just went home and went back to sleep?

[akeaaan]

If Only...

Jinu X fem.Reader

word count: 2.4k

a/n: this is my fourth fanfic of jinu and I'm going crazy someone stop me please. Also I'm losing ideas so if you have any request please do drop a note. I still have another idea of angst until I make some soft happy endings lol

Synopsis:

╰┈➤ If Only...

It was never supposed to happen.

You weren't supposed to feel this. To hesitate.

But fate — cruel, laughing fate — had always toyed with you, over and over again. And here you were, caught in its trap once more.

Your scythe had cut down hundreds of their kind. Demons had crumbled into dust at your feet, your blade unflinching, your heart colder each time.

But now?

Now you couldn't kill even one.

Why him?

You didn't belong in the spotlight. You hated it — the blinding lights, the staged smiles, the never-ending swarm of paparazzi. The fake interviews, the forced poses, the soul-sucking brand deals. You hated being told to be perfect.

So you stayed in the shadows, right where you belonged.

You let Huntrix shine in the public eye: Mira, Rumi, and Zoe — the idols, the faces, the voices. They danced in the light, while you hid behind soundproof glass.

You were their producer — the faceless fourth. The one who stayed up late tuning tracks, patching lyrics when writer's block hit, and crafting every beat that sealed away the honmoon. You wove magic into the melody, just like the ones before you.

Because this was tradition. Always three on the stage. Always one in the dark.

You were older than them — not by much, but enough to feel responsible. You were their unnie, their protector. You had more battle scars, more stories, more secrets. That's why they never worried when you went on solo missions.

And that was your greatest weapon: anonymity.

The demons thought there were only three.

There had always only been three — as far as they knew.

But behind every generation of Hunters, there was someone else. Someone offstage. Someone who wrote the songs, not to climb the charts, but to trap the shadows lurking in the echoes.

You didn't need powerful vocals.

You had powerful visions.

And now... your power betrayed you.

Your mind spiraled. A million thoughts screamed inside your skull.

Should I let my heart keep listening? Up 'til now I've walked the line—nothing lost, but something missing...

You had everything, didn't you?

A found family that never let go. Best friends who would die for you. Your parents—alive and well. A career that others only dreamed of.

So why... why did your chest ache like something had been carved out of it?

And then—you saw him.

That's when it clicked.

What you were missing wasn't something. It was someone. It was love.

The kind that doesn't knock politely—it breaks the door down and stands in your ruined threshold.

You cursed yourself, quietly, for saying yes to Bobby.

"Come on," he had begged, "You've got the lightest schedule. Just help us set up the fan sign?"

And because you were you—softhearted, capable, and impossibly easy to guilt-trip—you agreed.

Even went the extra mile.

You planned the whole event. Stayed up finalizing logistics. Then told the rest of the staff to clock out early and go home to their families.

Now here you were. Alone in the quiet morning, taping up last-minute signage outside the venue.

You were halfway through unfurling a tarp when you spotted them—four bundled shapes huddled in sleeping bags along the curb.

"...Idiots," you muttered, frowning. Fans like these were rare and reckless. Sleeping outside just to be first in line for autographs?

You shook your head and kept working—until one of them stirred. One pulled back his hood and stood, dusting off the creases from his shirt.

That's when you saw him.

Eyes still puffy from sleep. Hair a soft, tousled black. That calm, unreadable face framed by the dawn's early light.

Back then, you had no idea who he was.

You'd been off the grid for days. Locked in the studio producing songs for idols you barely knew. Huntrix had been hunting without you. You hadn't checked socials in a week.

So when he stepped forward and said—

"Uh... can I use the bathroom?"

—you didn't even blink. Just sighed, rolled your eyes, and jerked your head toward the venue.

"This way."

No thanks. No recognition. He simply nodded and followed.

You didn't think much of it. You were too busy—back to climbing a wobbly stool to hang the tarpaulin behind were the girls will be sitting .

Balancing on tiptoe, gripping the thin banner with cold fingers.

Until a quiet voice called behind you:

"You know, that thing's totally uneven."

You didn't have to look to know it was him.

"And you're going to fall if you keep shifting like that."

You gritted your teeth. "I'm fine."

"You're not," he said flatly. "At least let me help."

You finally glanced down—and your heart skipped. He was already walking toward you. Calm. Composed. His face unreadable, but his hand was outstretched, palm open like he already knew you'd take it.

You didn't.

And in that split-second—of course—you slipped.

"Shit—" you hissed as your balance gave out and gravity claimed you. The ground rushed up too fast. You braced, eyes squeezing shut, waiting for the sharp slam of wood against your back—

But it never came.

Instead, strong arms wrapped around your waist, halting your fall mid-air like it was nothing.

Your breath caught.

Slowly, you cracked one eye open—then the other.

There he was.

Smug. Too close. Too confident.

That crooked smirk on his lips practically screamed "told you so."

His dark eyes flicked over your face, glittering with something unreadable—maybe amusement, maybe something else entirely. The hold on your waist tightened just slightly, grounding you in his grip.

He was close. Too close.

You could feel his breath against your mouth. Hear the steady, unbothered rhythm of his heart. And yours—yours was stammering like it didn't know what to do with itself.

He tilted his head a little. "You always this stubborn?"

You swallowed hard. "You always this annoying?"

His smirk widened—but his eyes softened, just barely. "Only when I'm right."

Later that afternoon, the event hall buzzed with energy—fans lined up, banners waving, cameras flashing. But your focus narrowed sharply when your eyes caught a familiar face.

Him.

He was back, but not alone this time. He stood upfront at the signing table with a few others you recognized from earlier—those same guys who'd been in the sleeping bags back at the entrance. And now they were freshen up, styled, and posing as if they belonged.

The Saja Boys.

You stood stiffly near a concrete pillar, arms crossed, trying to keep your face neutral. Rumi, Mira, and Zoe exchanged less-than-thrilled glances. No one had told you this was going to be a joint fan sign. The Huntrix event you had personally organized—put your own hours into, from venue to logistics—was now sharing space with a brand new K-pop boy group?

Your eye twitched.

You caught sight of him again, seated right next to Rumi. They were speaking quietly, heads close. Something about the way he leaned in, relaxed but confident, made your skin prickle.

"Do they know each other?" you murmured to no one in particular.

You flagged down one of the event staff, your voice firm. "Who approved the seating chart? Who is that?"

She gave you a sheepish smile, clearly overwhelmed. "Oh—uh, that's Jinu. He's the leader of the Saja Boys.

Your stomach dropped.

Leader? Of course he is.

As if on cue, Jinu glanced up from the table and locked eyes with you across the venue. Recognition flickered instantly in his gaze—and then he smiled.

That same maddening, devastatingly charming smile from earlier. The one that said he knew exactly what he was doing.

You didn't bother looking back.

The moment you stepped off and slipped behind the black curtains marking the backstage area, it was like you could finally breathe again. The air felt less heavy away from the flashing cameras, squealing fans, and—most of all—him. You paced for a second, then stopped by a corner to scroll through your phone, pretending to be invested in it. Anything to not think about the way your stomach twisted when he was near.

The distant noise of the crowd faded just enough for you to hear footsteps. Lazy, heavy, tired ones. You looked up.

It was Jinu—of course it was. He stood a few feet away, sharp eyes unreadable beneath dyed bangs, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips, the rest of the Saja boys passed by in a blur of exhaustion—Abby tossing his bouquet dramatically into a trash bin, Mystery yawning, Baby leaning heavily on Romance's shoulder as they all disappeared toward the van.

But Jinu? He was the only one who didn't just throw the bouquet in. He placed it gently—deliberately—on top of the pile. A folded piece of paper stayed clutched in his other hand, something he didn't discard. A letter from a fan, maybe. Or something else.

You glanced back down at your phone. He didn't leave.

"So what are you to them?" he asked, voice smooth, slightly amused. "Their manager? Event organizer?"

You looked up again. He was staring at you, head slightly tilted, brows raised in quiet challenge. The others were gone now—just the two of you. You squared your stance.

"I'm their producer," you replied flatly, folding your arms. Cool. Professional.

Jinu's lips tugged into a half-smirk as he slowly folded the paper and slipped it into his pocket. "And you planned the fan event too? Damn. All in one, huh?"

He took a few slow steps in your direction, casual but not aimless. Calculated.

"I'm a perfectionist," you said simply, holding his gaze.

"Mm. Figures," he said, voice lower now as he closed the distance just a little more, eyes scanning your face. "You've got that look. Like nothing ever passed by you."

There was something in the way he said it—less teasing, more observant. He didn't mean just the event.

You looked away first.

You always did.

And ever since that day, your lives kept tangling—deliberate or not. Jinu always seemed to be just a few steps behind you. Or ahead of you. Or waiting.

There was something about the way he smiled—just a little too slow, a little too soft. The way his eyes held yours longer than they should've, almost as if memorizing the shape of your face each time. And then there was the way his gaze would flick down to your lips before rising back to your eyes, like a secret only he knew.

It wasn't just glances. It was tension. Thick and charged, like static before a storm.

The day he reached out—his hand resting on your waist to move you gently aside in the crowded idol common room—it felt like something clicked into place. The contact lingered. Not enough to raise suspicion, but just enough to make your breath catch.

Then there were the late-night run-ins. The 24-hour convenience store closest to your apartment, where you'd both pretend surprise even though you frequented it around the same hour. That time he "accidentally" found you working late in the studio, hunched over your laptop, trying to produce a new track under deadline.

"I didn't know anyone else was here," he'd said. But his voice didn't match the words. It was too calm. Too knowing.

Neither of you made the first move right away. But one night, you both stopped pretending.

Your lips met—slow, hesitant at first, then hungry. The kiss tasted like everything you'd both been holding back. Like the first breath after drowning.

And somehow, it felt like more than just a kiss. It felt like a beginning. A fragile, burning beginning.

You were falling for him. And he was falling too.

But then you heard it.

A conversation behind closed doors—Huntrix voices lowered in warning, laced with urgency. Jinu's name. A word you weren't meant to hear.

Demon.

Your heart plummeted like it had been cut loose from your chest.

Enemy.

And now, here you stood—frozen in place, suffocating beneath the weight of everything you knew and everything you felt. Love, twisted with betrayal. Warmth, laced with danger.

I can't decide what's wrong, what's right... Which way should I go?

The lyrics echoed in your mind, torn from a memory you couldn't quite silence. A song that once comforted you—now mocking your indecision.

Your scythe's blade hovered dangerously close to Jinu's neck. Your hands trembled, not from fear, but from fury barely contained. Your jaw locked as your blurred vision clung to the shape of him. The boy you used to trust. The demon he became.

Jinu didn't move. Didn't even raise his eyes to meet yours at first.

The wind whispered across the rooftop ledge, catching the hem of his jacket and brushing through your hair like some ghost trying to push you apart. He let out a slow breath, and when he finally looked at you, it wasn't with defiance.

It was guilt. Heavy. Real. Like he'd been carrying it for lifetimes.

"I never wanted you to find out like this," he said quietly, voice low and raw.

Your grip tightened on the scythe's handle. The curved blade shimmered under the moonlight, inches from his skin.

"You lied to me," you hissed, each word heavy like it cost you something to speak them aloud. "All this time. You were one of them."

Jinu lowered his gaze again. "Four hundred years is a long time to regret something."

"Don't you dare make this poetic," you snapped. "You could've told me. You let me care about you—trust you—when you knew what you were."

He didn't defend himself. Just stood there, letting your anger land where it may.

"I'm still me," he finally said, barely louder than the wind. "Even if the past is monstrous... I never stopped being me when I was with you."

Silence stretched. Your blade didn't waver, but your heart did

You didn't know when the tears started to fall—only that they burned on the way down.

All this time, you thought he was your safe place. The quiet in the chaos. But now... now he was the very storm you'd been trying to survive.

Jinu stepped forward—slowly, cautiously, like he was approaching a wounded animal. Like he knew one wrong move would shatter everything.

"You're right," he said softly. "I should've told you. I should've let you hate me from the beginning. But I didn't want to lose you before I ever had the chance to keep you."

A bitter laugh escaped your lips, half-choked and broken. "So instead you let me love a lie?"

He flinched.

The scythe dropped from your hands with a metallic thud against the rooftop. You couldn't hold it anymore. Couldn't hold anything anymore. Not the rage. Not the love. Not the grief curling inside your ribs like fire.

"I don't know if I'll ever forgive you," you whispered.

Jinu looked like he wanted to speak, but the words never came. Maybe there weren't any left that could fix this.

And maybe... that was the point.

You turned away from him, the wind now at your back. The skyline blurred through your tears, the city below indifferent to the war inside your chest.

Behind you, Jinu didn't move. Maybe he knew chasing you would only make it worse.

Maybe he knew he'd already lost.

Your voice broke the silence one last time, barely above a breath:

"If only I knew what my heart was telling me... Don't know what I'm feeling, is this just a dream?"

And then you were gone— leaving Jinu standing alone beneath the stars, with nothing but regret and the sound of your fading footsteps.

[dark-night-hero]

Imagine coming home late at night. It was already two in the morning by the time you got home. Although you aren't tired, all you wanted was to get home. To be right next to him.

Imagine ever since you started working at night shift, the lesser time you spend with your lover. Despite that, every night you would come home with already cooked food waiting for you and same goes upon waking up.

Imagine you feel bad. Of course you do, he already has too much on his plate, has to wake up early in the morning but still has time to cook food for you. So you wanted to give back. You planned to go home early tonight. But shits unfold and you were forced to take an over time.

Imagine closing the door behind you gently. He must be sleeping already just like any other day. So you went through the dimmed living room only to halt upon seeing his sleeping figure on the sofa. What is he doing in here?

Imagine coming over to him. Eyes softened as you look fondly at him. "Caleb." You caresses his cheeks gently. "Why are you sleeping here?" You tap his cheeks gently but strong enough to wake him up. As much as you want to carry him into your shared room. You don't think that would be possible. But you also think how uncomfortable it would be for him to spend a night in the sofa. "Come one bud, wake up. Let's mobe you to bed."

"Bud?" He stirred up on his sleep, opening one eye. "Who's bud? I'm only your baby, honey, darling, love-" "Yes yes honey, now move so I can help you get into bed, okay?" Instead on doing as you said, he yawn, stretched out and sat comfortably at the sofa, tapping the vacant spave beside him. "Caleb, it's late. You should seriously go back to sleep."

Imagine Caleb who was leaning on the sofa eyes closed, snapped open before reaching out a hand towards you, pulling you into his lap. You can feel his breath on the back of your nape sending a shiver down his spine. "That's too bad. I was waiting for you so we can eat dinner." That stunned you for a moment. "Baby, it's already two in the morning." "Oh."

Imagine sitting across him as he heats up the food. You can’t help but to stare at him. "Long day at work?" He could feel the weight of your stare. "No." You replied. "Just thinking how lucky I am to have you." You saw him halt, then he look back, a smile on his lips as if he cannot help it. "I should be the one telling you that." When he said that with such a genuine smile and look in his face. Who are you not to believe that?

Imagine you missed this. Eating with him, talking with him. You missed this. Longed for these moments to last. You missed him. "You know I love you, right?" He asked, eyes looking fondly at yours. You smiled at him. "Of course." You replied softly. "And you know I love you too right?" "I always do."

Imagine as Caleb wake up in the morning, your peaceful sleeping face greeting him. There is nothing more he could wish for. He already has everything within his arms. And he couldn’t wait for forever to come.

[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2025°

: laughing my ass of because I always do my daily around 12-3am and Caleb- my guy is always asleep lmao. And basically what leads to here. I see Sylus as the only man who can keep up with me but my heart wants Caleb :(

[yukkiji]

i js wanted to drop in and say ur writing is some of the best here on haikyuublr right now and u have such a talent <3 loved ur iwa and atsumu fic and greatly loking forward to reading more of ur stuff after writing this. thank u for sharing ur stuff and excited for whatever else u decide to write!!! ALSO i would love to request something longer with suna if thatd be possible,, maybe something where reader's feeling insecure bc its been a while since theyve done anything? when in reality suna's js exhausted from work and accidentally neglected her T-T if u dont wanna do this i dont mind at all anything with sunarin is fine <3 love ur writing againnn

still here, still yours

after weeks of exhaustion and unintended neglect, pro volleyball player suna gently reassures his insecure partner through tender, praise-filled intimacy—reminding her she's always wanted, never forgotten, and deeply loved.

starring. suna rintaro x fem!reader

genre: fluff, romance, light angst, smut

warning: 18+ mdni., smut, nsfw, praise kink, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, squirting, dom!suna, emotional neglect, reassurance, light spanking, shower scene, soft aftercare, verbal praise, body worship, unprotected sex

wc: 11.8k

author's note: long overdue but here it is! i hope you enjoy reading this hehe

it’s subtle at first.

the distance.

not a storm, not a blowout, not even a sharp word. just… a creeping quiet. the kind you don’t notice until you’re already sitting in the dark, wondering when the lights went out.

you chalk it up to exhaustion—the kind that’s expected from a professional athlete grinding through mid-season. rintarou comes home past midnight most nights now, his footsteps dragging, his voice low. the door opens, then closes with a tired sigh. his bag hits the floor, and he exhales like the weight on his shoulders is just too much.

he always greets you. always. a soft, automatic “hey,” murmured against your hair as he walks by. sometimes a kiss on the top of your head if he remembers. sometimes, if he isn’t too far gone, he pulls you against his chest for a minute, just holding you in that quiet, liminal hour between exhaustion and sleep.

but more often lately, he heads straight to the shower. a ten-minute rinse, the door left cracked open so the steam doesn’t fog the glass. when he returns, towel slung low on his hips, he drops into bed beside you with a grunt, kisses your shoulder if he’s awake enough, and passes out before you can even finish whispering, “welcome home.”

you tell yourself it’s nothing.

because technically, nothing’s wrong.

you still laugh at the memes he sends you at 1 a.m. from his side of the bed. you still hear him humming under his breath when he makes you tea in the morning. he still saves your leftovers when he eats out with the team. he still picks up your favorite snacks at the corner store without you asking.

but something’s missing.

something deep.

and you don’t even realize what it is until the third night he doesn’t come home at all.

no warning. no messages until after midnight, just a tired update: [rintaro]: staying at the facility tonight. too tired to drive back. love you.

you believe him. of course you do. you never doubt him. suna may be many things—dry, aloof, chronically low-energy—but he has never lied to you. never once gave you a reason to question his loyalty, his commitment. he’s yours. fully.

and still—you ache.

you lie in bed in one of his old shirts, the fabric stretched soft from years of wear, and your hands wander. you trail your fingers down your ribs, over your hips, part your thighs and slip under your panties.

you try.

you really try.

but your hand doesn’t feel like his.

your fingers don’t curl with the same hunger, don’t slide with the same deliberate slowness that he always used when he wanted to wreck you slowly. they don’t press firm and steady on your clit the way he does, the way that always made your legs shake. they don’t fill you the way he does—long fingers that crook just right, mouth murmuring praise between licks as you unravel under him.

you moan, trying to conjure him. you imagine his voice, low and thick with sleep, telling you what a good girl you are. how sweet you taste. how soft you feel. you remember the way he used to breathe harder when he got close to making you come, like your pleasure turned him inside out.

but it’s not the same.

your own touch feels foreign. lonely. hollow.

and when the heat finally builds and fizzles out, you lie there unsatisfied, eyes burning, chest aching more than your thighs.

not because you’re angry. not because you don’t trust him.

but because you miss him in a way that makes your body ache.

you miss the way he used to need you.

now it feels like he needs rest more than he needs you.

you know he’s tired. you know he’s overworked. you’ve seen the stiffness in his shoulders, the way he winces when he peels off his tape, the dark circles deepening under his eyes. you know that every match, every practice, every press event chips away at the energy he has left.

but still—you miss him.

and more than that, you miss feeling wanted.

not just loved. not just adored in the passive, every-day kind of way. but craved. desired. claimed.

you can’t even remember the last time he touched you like that. not out of obligation. not for routine.

but because he couldn’t not.

because his body had to be on yours, had to taste you, had to feel you wrapped around him.

you pull your hand back and curl into yourself, frustrated tears pricking the corners of your eyes. you’re not mad. you’re not suspicious. just…

lonely.

quietly, devastatingly lonely.

and you don’t know how to bring it up without sounding like you’re asking for too much.

without sounding like one more thing he doesn’t have the energy for.

but this quiet?

it’s starting to feel like a slow kind of heartbreak.

like watching the tide pull away, further and further, and wondering if it’s ever going to come back to shore.

it’s starting to feel like a slow kind of heartbreak.

like watching the tide pull away, further and further, and wondering if it’s ever going to come back to shore.

you wipe your hand on the hem of your shirt and breathe in deep—once, then again—trying to convince your body that the tears pooling in your eyes are just from frustration. not sadness. not rejection. just a fleeting ache. something that sleep will solve.

except, sleep doesn’t come easily anymore.

not when the bed feels too cold on one side. not when the sheets still smell like him, and your fingers ache from trying to replace a warmth that only he can give.

so you sit up.

pad into the kitchen. open the fridge. close it. not hungry.

you scroll your phone, rereading old messages from months ago—selfies he used to send from the gym, photos of his legs iced up and flexed after a match, paired with a lazy “you like this, don’t lie” and a smirking emoji. voice memos of him mumbling how much he missed you after a long away game. a grainy video of him shirtless in the locker room, whispering a low “wish you were here” against a backdrop of noisy teammates.

that version of him feels so far away now.

not gone. but buried. like a season passed, and no one told you it wouldn’t come back the same.

you curl into the couch with a blanket over your lap, eyes on the clock.

12:46 a.m.

then 1:22.

then 1:37.

no update.

he’s not home.

again.

you check your phone just to be sure, even though there’s no buzz, no badge.

nothing.

you think about calling. about asking if he’s okay. about whether he ate dinner, or if he remembered to put on the muscle rub that helps with his back. but then you imagine him in the locker room, tired eyes barely open, chin tucked to his chest as he tries to survive the day, and guilt gnaws at your resolve.

you don’t want to be a burden.

but when the door finally creaks open at 2:04 a.m., your body jolts upright before you even realize you’ve moved.

he looks… drained.

dark circles. damp hair. eyes dull like a storm cloud that never opens up. he kicks off his shoes without looking up, his bag thudding against the door.

“hey,” he mumbles, like always.

suna walks toward the couch, still shrugging off the weight of the day, and bends just enough to press a soft kiss to your temple. the press of his lips is warm—familiar—but distant, like a habit rather than a want.

"why are you still awake, baby?" he murmurs, voice low and raspy, like gravel smoothed by exhaustion.

you stare at the muted tv for a beat too long before answering.

“i couldn’t sleep.”

he hums absently, his hand brushing the top of your head in that same distracted way he always does lately. like he means to be comforting but doesn’t linger long enough to make it count. then he turns, already peeling off his hoodie as he makes his way down the hall.

"don’t wait up for me,” he says, voice fading as he walks, “i’ll head to our bedroom after i shower, okay?”

you don’t answer.

because if you do, you’re scared it’ll come out as a sob.

so you just nod, even though he can’t see it, curling in tighter on the couch as you listen to the bathroom door click shut. the sound of running water soon follows—soft at first, then rushing.

you stay where you are.

wrapped in silence. in soft cotton and worn-out longing. your body curled like muscle memory, trying to make yourself small. the blanket's gone cold now, and the cushions beneath you are sunken with the weight of waiting.

you think about getting up. think about brushing your teeth and sliding under the sheets like nothing hurts. think about pretending you didn’t cry earlier, about slipping into bed beside him and offering your back like a silent invitation he probably won’t take.

but you can’t move.

not yet.

because even now—after he’s home, after he kissed your temple, after he said he’d meet you in bed—there’s still a hollow ache in your chest that hasn’t quieted.

you hear the water shut off.

moments later, the door opens. his familiar steps thump softly against the hallway floor.

you expect him to go straight to the bedroom like always.

but instead—

“…babe?”

his voice comes from behind you, confused. not panicked. but uncertain.

you blink slowly, still curled up on the couch, and turn your head just enough to see him standing there, fresh from the shower.

hair damp, sticking in dark strands across his forehead. a towel slung loosely around his hips, clinging low on his hips. water still glistening down his chest—broad, lean, the kind of frame built from quiet discipline and relentless training. his hand clutches a shirt he probably meant to put on in the bedroom.

but he never made it that far.

because you’re still not there.

and he notices.

“…why’re you still out here?” he asks quietly, his brows drawing together.

you don’t answer at first.

you just look up at him.

and that’s when he really sees you.

the tired set of your shoulders. the way your lips are pressed together like they’re holding back a flood. the way your eyes glint—not from the tv light, but from the tears you refuse to shed a second time tonight.

his expression falters.

he drops the shirt in his hand, chest still rising and falling slowly from the heat of the shower—and maybe now, from something else.

he crosses to you without a word, crouches beside the couch, and touches your knee with gentle fingers.

“talk to me,” he says, softly. genuinely. “please.”

and that’s when your voice cracks.

“did i do something wrong?”

you don’t mean for it to come out like that.

small. fragile. broken around the edges.

but there it is—bare and trembling in the air between you.

“did i do something wrong?”

suna’s breath stutters, his hand tightening just slightly on your knee. not out of anger. out of heartbreak. it’s written all over his face now—the pieces finally clicking into place, sharp and clear and cutting.

“no,” he breathes. “no, baby, you didn’t.”

you look away, ashamed, eyes blinking hard as your throat constricts. but he doesn’t let you pull away—not even in silence. he gently climbs onto the couch beside you, still shirtless, still warm from the shower, and wraps an arm around your shoulders like he’s trying to shield you from the weight you’ve been carrying alone.

“i just…” your voice trembles. “you haven’t touched me in weeks. you don’t look at me the way you used to. you barely come home anymore. i thought maybe—maybe i wasn’t enough for you anymore.”

“hey—hey.” he pulls back just enough to cup your cheeks, to make you look at him. “don’t say that. don’t even think that.”

you try to hold it together, but your bottom lip quivers.

“i trust you, rin. i do. i never thought you were cheating, or that there was someone else, i just… i miss how it used to be. i miss how you used to be with me. i miss you.”

he lets out a quiet sound, like it physically hurts to hear.

and then his forehead is pressed against yours, his hands cradling your face with aching care.

“i’m so sorry,” he whispers. “you didn’t do anything wrong. you’re still everything i want. everything i need. you always have been.”

“then why…?” your eyes flicker shut, voice barely a breath. “why did it start to feel like i wasn’t?”

“i got caught up,” he admits, voice hoarse. “with the team, and travel, and press—and i kept telling myself i’d make it up to you after the season, or the week after, or the next time i had energy. but all that time, i didn’t notice i was slowly… fading out of us. and i didn’t realize how far i’d drifted until i looked up tonight and you weren’t in bed. you were still out here, waiting.”

“i wasn’t waiting,” you say, barely.

he nods. “i know. i mean—i know you were done waiting. i should’ve come home to you weeks ago. i should’ve noticed that i was holding you at arm’s length when i should’ve been holding you close.”

he pauses, then says quietly:

“you never stopped being enough. i just stopped showing you that i saw it. that i saw you. and that’s on me.”

you blink again, this time letting the tears fall.

“rin…”

he wipes them with his thumbs, leaning in to kiss your cheeks—once, twice—then your nose, then your forehead.

“i love you,” he murmurs. “i love you so fucking much. and i’m sorry for making you feel anything less than wanted. i hate that you thought you had to question how much i still want you.”

your voice comes out cracked. “it’s been hard.”

“i know.” he kisses the corner of your mouth, soft and slow. “let me make it easier again.”

you hesitate. “i don’t want you to do it just because you feel bad.”

“i’m doing it because i miss you,” he says, firmer now. “because i’ve been starving for you and too fucking tired to reach out. but i’m reaching now. if you’ll let me.”

you nod slowly, and he presses his lips to yours fully this time—gentle at first, then deeper, like he’s pouring every apology and longing into the kiss. like he’s been aching too. like he finally remembered how to hold you.

he kisses you like he’s starved for it—like he’s been standing in the doorway of himself for weeks, unable to find the key, and tonight you finally let him in.

his hand slides up your thigh, warm and steady, until his fingers dip just beneath the edge of your shorts. his knuckles brush your inner thigh, and you shiver, gasping softly into his mouth. the heat that floods your body is instant—dizzying—and he groans as you squirm in response, like your reaction only feeds him.

“come here,” he murmurs, already tugging your hips toward him until you're lying flat on the couch cushions, head tilted back against the armrest.

he drops to his knees between your legs, and the moment he looks up at you—wet hair falling over his eyes, mouth already parted like he’s hungry—your breath catches in your throat.

“you okay?” he asks, softer now.

you nod, eyes half-lidded.

“i just… i missed you,” you whisper. “so much.”

his jaw clenches.

“i know,” he murmurs, voice low and rough. “i’m gonna make it up to you, baby. just lay back. let me take care of you.”

you lift your hips obediently when he starts to tug your shorts down—slow, reverent, like he’s unwrapping something fragile. he kisses your inner thigh first, just barely grazing his lips over the sensitive skin, then drags his mouth higher.

when he sees how wet you are—already slick, glistening under the dim light—he pauses.

his eyes flick up to yours, and you don’t even try to hide it.

“i touched myself earlier,” you admit, cheeks burning. “it didn’t feel the same. i—i needed you.”

his jaw tightens, eyes darkening.

still kneeling between your thighs, his gaze drags down slowly—over your flushed cheeks, your heaving chest, the soaked curve of your panties stretched tight against your pussy. and he just stares.

his voice drops, low and edged with heat. “you know i hate it when you touch yourself, baby.”

you shiver.

“but…” he leans in, nuzzles your inner thigh, his lips brushing hot against your skin, “…i wasn’t there for you, huh?”

you nod faintly, biting your lip. “i tried. it just… didn’t work.”

he hums against your skin, one hand trailing up your thigh, splaying wide over your hip. “because this pussy doesn’t open for anyone but me.”

your breath catches in your throat.

then—he hooks his fingers into your panties and drags them down excruciatingly slow, eyes locked on your glistening cunt. you swear you feel his breath hitch when he sees how wet you are.

“fuck,” he breathes, like it punches the air out of him. “you’re soaked.”

he leans in without hesitation, licking a long, slow stripe from your entrance to your clit—and moans.

loudly.

like the taste of you alone nearly makes him lose it.

“missed this,” he murmurs, eyes fluttering shut for a moment. “missed you.”

then he dives in.

his mouth seals over your clit like he’s starved—tongue warm and wet, flicking in tight, steady circles that make your thighs twitch. you gasp, back arching, and he groans again, like your reaction turns him on more than anything.

his tongue flattens and licks broad and slow, then tightens again to flick quick patterns over your clit. when you whimper, he slides his hands up, pressing your hips down with his forearms to keep you in place, to stop you from squirming away.

“you don’t get to run,” he says against you, voice muffled. “you wanted this—missed this. let me give it to you.”

and god, he gives.

he moves like he’s memorized every sound you make, every tremble, every part of you that begs to be touched. his tongue works your clit in perfect rhythm—slow, steady, precise. he moans every time you gasp his name. and when your fingers slide into his hair, tugging, gripping, he growls into your cunt like he wants to drown in it.

“rinnie—” you gasp.

that name. that soft little plea.

it makes something snap in him.

he pulls back for a second, lips slick, panting, and stares at your ruined expression.

“say it again.”

“rinnie,” you whisper, voice shaking.

his mouth crashes back to your clit and he slides two fingers into you with practiced ease. they stretch you open—deep, slow, curling perfectly against your sweet spot.

you cry out, body arching. “oh my—rin—!”

he starts fucking you with his fingers—deep and unrelenting. his pace is slow, but brutal, curling on every thrust. paired with his tongue flicking your clit again, your whole body starts to tremble.

you’re drenched. you hear it. every wet drag of his fingers, every slick suck of his lips over your clit.

“so fucking tight,” he rasps against you. “this pussy’s been waiting for me, huh?”

“y-yes—!”

“this is mine,” he growls. “say it.”

“yours! it’s yours—rinnie, please—!”

his fingers speed up.

his mouth stays locked on your clit, sucking harder now—his tongue flicking faster, relentless. the combination builds fast—pressure curling, tightening, cresting under your skin like a wave you can’t stop.

“i wanna feel you cum, baby,” he pants against your pussy. “you gonna let me taste it?”

you’re too far gone to speak.

so you moan, and moan, hips bucking, thighs trembling.

and then—

you fall apart.

your orgasm rips through you—sharp and hot and overwhelming—your walls fluttering around his fingers, your cries echoing in the room.

suna moans into your release, drinks it down like it’s holy. he doesn’t stop. not until your body jerks from oversensitivity, and your hand pulls weakly at his hair.

then, slowly, he eases his fingers out and kisses your inner thigh like he’s thanking you.

you’re a mess—panting, legs trembling, chest heaving with every shaky breath. your skin is flushed with heat, overstimulated and glowing, and slick glistens between your thighs, dripping onto the couch cushions beneath you.

and him—suna—he’s still kneeling there, shirtless, broad shoulders rising and falling slowly, his chest kissed with droplets from his earlier shower. the towel around his waist has loosened just slightly, dangerously low on his hips, and his cock strains against the fabric, hard and heavy.

his chin glistens with your release, his lips swollen and pink. his eyes—dark, glassy, starving—drink you in like he’s imprinting every ruined inch of you into his memory.

and then—

he raises his hand.

two fingers glistening with your cum. slick and shining in the low light.

and without breaking eye contact—

suna brings those fingers to his mouth and sucks them clean.

slow. leisurely. obscene.

his lips wrap around them and he moans low in his throat, tongue dragging up to savor every last drop of you.

your breath catches hard in your throat.

you feel it.

another gush of heat between your legs—like your body’s responding all over again, already throbbing with fresh want.

he notices.

the corner of his mouth lifts, slow and lazy, but his eyes are still hazy with need. still dark.

“you’re wet again,” he says quietly, fingers slipping from his mouth with a soft pop. his voice is low—dangerous—but wrapped in velvet. “that turn you on, baby?”

you can’t even deny it. not when your thighs press together involuntarily, chasing the friction. not when your skin burns under his gaze like he’s touching you with his eyes alone.

your voice comes out breathy. “rinnie…”

and that name—that sweet, submissive lilt—makes his towel tent even more.

he growls, climbing up onto the couch, crowding over your body.

“you taste so fucking good,” he murmurs against your mouth, kissing you again. “and you’re gonna let me fuck you now, yeah?”

your breath hitches.

he presses his forehead to yours, thumb caressing your cheek.

“let me make love to you slow, baby,” he whispers, voice wrecked with reverence. “let me remind you what it means to be mine.”

you barely nod before his arms are sliding beneath your back and thighs, lifting you effortlessly from the couch. the shift makes you gasp, but he holds you close, your bare chest pressed to his while your legs instinctively wrap around his waist. the towel is bunched between you now, loose and useless, your slick center brushing against the rigid outline of his cock.

you can feel him—hot, thick, already throbbing.

suna walks with slow, steady steps toward the bedroom, eyes fixed on you. he nudges the door open with his foot, never once faltering in his hold. the hallway light hits just enough to cast the sharp lines of his jaw and the soft gleam in his eyes.

you’re both half-undressed, your body flushed and still twitching from your orgasm, but your need spikes again just from feeling him so close—so hard. you grind against him instinctively, rolling your hips forward to chase the friction.

he hisses under his breath, arms tightening around you.

then—smack.

his hand lands firm and hot against your thigh, just enough to make you jolt.

“behave,” he mutters, voice dark now. his lips graze your ear, and you can feel the warning in his breath. “you wanna cum again tonight, don’t you?”

you bite your lip, nodding wordlessly.

“then wait,” he says, his palm smoothing over the sting he just left. “be good for me. i’ll give you everything. just let me get you to bed.”

you whimper, the heat between your legs pulsing at the way he speaks to you—firm but reverent, like you’re something precious and his.

on the way to the bedroom, his hoodie and your bra are discarded along the hall—rushed, messy, fevered. the moment you reach the bed, he lays you down gently, almost worshipfully, like you’re breakable and holy all at once.

he looks down at you.

bare. breathless. glowing.

and he lets the towel drop.

it pools at his feet, but your gaze doesn’t follow it. your eyes are locked on the heavy line of his cock—hard, flushed, thick, the tip glistening with arousal. he’s already leaking, already twitching as if your soaked body alone is enough to ruin him.

your thighs instinctively fall open, legs parting like muscle memory, inviting him in. suna watches the motion with a soft inhale, his eyes hungry, dark with something primal.

“look at you,” he murmurs, climbing over you slowly, like he’s savoring the view of your bare body spread out just for him. “dripping for me already.”

he leans down, kissing your collarbone first—slow, open-mouthed—then drags his lips across your skin until he reaches your mouth. and when he kisses you again, it’s warm and deep and wet, the kind of kiss that swallows everything.

he kisses you like he’s been dying of thirst and you’re the only thing that could ever quench it.

his hips dip lower, cock sliding through your folds, coating himself in your slick. he moans softly into your mouth when he feels how ready you are—how wet and swollen and clenching at nothing.

“feel that?” he murmurs, voice rough, hips rocking gently to tease your clit with the thick, aching head of his cock. “your pussy’s begging, baby.”

you whimper into his kiss, hips rising to meet his.

then—finally—he pushes in.

the tip eases past your entrance, stretching you open so slowly it makes your eyes roll back. he doesn’t rush it. he keeps kissing you, swallowing your shaky moans as he fills you inch by inch. his tongue slips into your mouth with the same lazy intensity, syncing perfectly with the slow, deliberate slide of his cock.

“fuck,” he hisses against your lips. “so tight. so warm. still the best thing i’ve ever felt.”

you break the kiss with a gasp, head tilting back into the pillow. he follows, mouthing down your throat, your jaw, the edge of your lips. you’re trying to breathe, trying to think, but he’s barely halfway in and your body already feels like it’s burning alive.

your hands clutch at his shoulders, nails digging in when his hips roll forward again, pushing deeper.

“r-rinnie,” you moan, voice breaking into a whisper. “it’s so much…”

he kisses you again—slower this time, deeper.

“i know, baby. you’re taking me so well,” he murmurs against your mouth. “just like that. let me in. let me fill you up.”

his hand cups your thigh, spreading you wider. his pace never quickens—never—he sinks in slow, thick inch by thick inch, kissing you through the stretch, through the way your body tightens around him like you’ve been waiting to be whole again.

you whine against his lips, body arching, tears pricking the corners of your eyes from the overwhelming stretch and sweetness of it all.

when his hips finally press flush against yours, he doesn’t move.

he just holds himself there—buried to the hilt, twitching inside you—his lips brushing yours with a reverent sigh.

“there,” he whispers. “finally.”

you nod, dazed, barely able to speak.

“you feel me, baby?” he murmurs. “deep inside you, where i belong?”

“yes—rinnie, i feel you, i feel everything—”

he kisses you again, swallowing the way your voice trembles, and he doesn’t pull out yet. instead, he rocks his hips gently, barely moving—just enough for you to feel the weight of him, the thickness, the stretch.

“gonna take my time,” he promises, voice thick with emotion. “gonna love you so good you’ll forget all the nights i wasn’t here.”

your hands cup his face now, lips brushing his as your eyes flutter closed.

“just don’t stop,” you whisper. “don’t leave me empty anymore.”

his expression softens like he’s about to break.

“i won’t,” he says. “never again.”

and then—he pulls out just an inch, then slides back in, kissing you harder now.

and finally, finally, suna starts to move.

his hips roll into you with a lazy, deliberate rhythm—each thrust slow, smooth, like he’s memorizing the way your walls flutter around him. there’s no urgency, no rush. just the deep, steady grind of his cock inside you and the weight of his body pressed so perfectly into yours.

his lips never stray far from your skin. he peppers soft, open-mouthed kisses along the curve of your neck, then down to your shoulder, lingering at the dip of your collarbone like he’s anchoring himself there. every kiss is slow, reverent—matched to the way he moves inside you, the way he fills you with every deep, perfect stroke.

“feels so good,” he whispers against your skin. “so warm. so tight. you always take me so well.”

you gasp softly, fingers threading through his hair as you tilt your head, giving him more of your throat. he takes it, mouthing gently at your pulse point, his breath hot and ragged.

“missed this. missed you.”

he thrusts again—deep, slow, the kind of pace that makes your toes curl and your breath catch.

“i never got tired of you,” he murmurs, voice rough but steady. “not once. never stopped wanting you, baby.”

you whimper his name—“rinnie”—and his hips stutter, just slightly.

his hand slides down to grip your thigh, spreading you wider as he rocks into you again, a little deeper this time. your body stretches around him perfectly, molding to every slow, grinding thrust like he was made for you.

“not your body,” he continues, kissing below your ear, “not your voice, not the way you look at me when you’re falling apart.”

his words settle deep, like warm honey sinking into cracked skin.

“fuck, i missed this sweet little pussy,” he groans into your shoulder, voice husky. “i’ve been so out of it i forgot how fucking good it feels to be home.”

you choke on a moan, clinging to him tighter as your hips roll up to meet his—chasing his rhythm, desperate to be even closer.

“rinnie—please, don’t stop.”

“not going anywhere,” he breathes, kissing your jaw, your temple, your mouth again. “you hear me? i’m not gonna stop. not until you believe how much i still love you.”

his thrusts stay deep, measured—his cock dragging perfectly along your walls, kissing that sweet spot inside you with every roll of his hips. you feel so full, so cherished, your body buzzing under the slow build of heat.

and all the while, he never stops touching you, kissing you, talking to you.

“you’re everything to me.”

“you’re the best thing i’ve ever come home to.”

“i’m sorry it took me so long to show it.”

your heart squeezes painfully, eyes brimming with tears as you breathe out his name again.

and he kisses the corner of your mouth, whispering against your lips:

“let me stay here. let me love you right this time.”

the words linger in the air, wrapped in the heat of your skin and the tremble of your breath. your legs are still wrapped loosely around his waist, your arms clinging around his shoulders like you’re afraid he’ll disappear again if you let go. but he doesn’t. suna stays right there—inside you, above you, around you—thrusting slow and deep, like he’s in no hurry to reach the end.

his palm smooths along the side of your face, thumb brushing over your cheek. his forehead rests against yours, breath mingling as he presses another kiss to your lips—soft, warm, home.

it’s quiet for a beat.

just your bodies moving together.

your soft moans swallowed between kisses.

the slick sound of him sliding in and out of you.

the weight of weeks of longing melting between the sheets.

but the ache is growing—coiling low in your belly. the slow rhythm is beautiful, addicting—but it’s not enough anymore. not with how full you feel. not with how much you need him.

your voice is barely more than a whimper.

“rin… faster, please.”

he freezes, eyes flicking down to meet yours.

and just like that—his expression shifts.

from tender to something darker. more possessive.

his lips curl into a quiet, knowing smirk. “could’ve just asked, baby.”

then his hands slide down—gripping the backs of your thighs as he pushes your knees toward your chest, folding you beneath him in one smooth, practiced motion.

the mating press.

his favorite.

because this is the position where he feels the most connected to you—where he can press every inch of himself into you, watch the way your face contorts with every thrust, feel your pussy tighten around him with nowhere to run.

where he can fuck you deep enough to hit your soul.

“you know i love you like this,” he grits out, adjusting his hips until the angle is perfect, until he’s buried even deeper.

you cry out at the stretch, the sudden change, your hands clutching at the sheets.

and then he starts to move.

harder. deeper.

his hips snap into yours, the sound of skin meeting skin echoing through the room. every stroke punches a moan out of you, your legs trembling where they’re pinned against his chest. he doesn’t let up—he won’t.

then—he leans down, shifting his weight so your thighs are still pressed high but his chest meets yours again. his mouth finds your breast, warm and wet as he wraps his lips around your nipple and sucks.

your head falls back with a moan. “rinnie—!”

he groans around your skin, tongue swirling slowly, then fast, then pulling off with a soft pop before switching to the other.

“can’t get enough of you,” he pants, voice muffled against your chest. “wanna be close. wanna be inside you when you cum.”

your nails dig into his back as he fucks you deeper, faster, rougher—his mouth latching onto your nipple again like he’s drinking from you, like it grounds him.

“rin, i’m—! i’m gonna—!”

“i know, baby,” he groans, voice cracked with the effort of restraint, his hips stuttering just slightly from the way your walls are already fluttering around him. “cum for me. milk my cock. show me how good i make you feel.”

and then he shifts—just barely—but enough to slip one hand down from your thigh and press it between your bodies. the way he moves, the way he always knows exactly what you need, even now with his cock buried deep inside you, makes your heart swell.

his fingers find your clit instantly, already slick and swollen from how thoroughly he’s worked you up.

and then—he touches you.

a single, perfect swipe.

your back arches, a cry tearing from your throat before you can even bite it back.

“rinnie—!”

“i’ve got you,” he whispers, low and reverent, eyes flickering from your trembling body to your face as his thumb begins to rub slow, tight circles over your clit. “i always do.”

his thrusts stay deep and unrelenting, grinding into your cervix with each push as your thighs shake around his waist, pinned wide in his favorite position. the mating press makes you feel so full, so claimed, so his. and with his fingers teasing your clit—just right, just perfect—it’s too much.

you sob beneath him, pleasure threatening to snap loose like a wire pulled too tight.

every thrust hits your sweet spot dead-on, his cock dragging against every oversensitive nerve, while his thumb massages slow circles that have your vision going blurry, breath leaving your lungs in shuddering gasps.

“you gonna cum, pretty girl?” he pants, lips grazing your jaw. “gonna cum all over my cock while i’m this deep inside you?”

you nod frantically, tears slipping from the corners of your eyes from how overwhelming it feels.

“yes—yes, rinnie, i—oh my god, i’m gonna—”

“then fuckin’ let go.”

he leans in close, pressing his mouth to yours, and the second you moan into the kiss—your entire body breaks.

your orgasm hits like lightning—hard and hot, making your thighs twitch violently and your core clamp down around him in pulsing waves. your back lifts off the bed, body arching against his as you cry out his name over and over again, voice raw and ruined.

“fuck, yes—cum on my cock, just like that,” he growls, watching your face, eyes nearly wild as he feels you squeeze and throb around him. “god, you’re so fuckin’ beautiful like this. so perfect. this pussy was made for me.”

you can’t even speak—only sob, gasping as his cock continues to grind deep, his thumb slowing its circles now as your orgasm washes through you in long, drawn-out tremors.

your body collapses against the bed, boneless and overwhelmed, every nerve ending still buzzing.

but he’s still hard. still inside you.

and still fighting his own edge.

suna groans above you, his pace beginning to falter, a different kind of urgency taking over his movements now. his hand leaves your clit to grip your thigh again, pushing your legs even higher, even tighter to your chest.

“so fuckin’ tight when you cum,” he growls, hips snapping harder now, chasing his own release. “can’t hold it anymore—gonna fill you up, baby—gonna cum so deep inside this pretty pussy—”

his breathing shudders as your walls continue fluttering around him, your body still wrung out and gripping him like you never want to let go.

you manage to lift your arms, wrap them around his back, anchoring him to you.

“please,” you whisper, voice hoarse. “cum inside me, rinnie. want it so bad.”

that’s all it takes.

he plunges deep one last time—so deep it punches the air out of your lungs—and cums.

he moans your name as he spills into you, thick ropes of heat flooding your cunt, his cock twitching inside you with every wave of pleasure. his face buries into your neck, one hand gripping the back of your thigh, the other curled into the sheets beside your head as he rides out his orgasm in long, slow pulses.

you feel it. every drop. every throb.

and it only makes you hold him tighter.

he stays like that for a moment—breathing hard against your skin, chest rising and falling with yours, cock still buried deep, not ready to let go just yet.

“i needed that,” he breathes finally. “i needed you.”

you nod, lips brushing his temple, still trembling beneath him from the high. your heart pounds against your ribs, the slow stretch of afterglow sweeping over your limbs, but beneath it all—you're still pulsing. still needy. still not ready to let go.

and neither is he.

suna’s still inside you, his cock softening slightly from his orgasm, but the way your body stays wrapped around him—warm and wet and clenching gently with each little aftershock—has him breathing unevenly against your shoulder again.

his voice is rough, thick with the hint of a groan. “you’re gonna get me hard again if you keep squeezing me like that.”

you smile softly, tilting his chin up until your eyes meet.

“then let me take care of you now.”

he blinks, eyes fluttering, a little caught off-guard by the shift in your tone—no longer pleading or aching, but devoted. steady.

still straddling his waist in the mating press, you slowly slide off of him—every inch leaving you makes you both moan softly, the sensation almost too much, too bare. your thighs tremble as his cock slips free with a wet sound, followed immediately by the warm, slick spill of both your releases—his cum and yours—dripping from your swollen folds down onto his lower abdomen.

it’s messy. sticky. intimate in the way only lovers who’ve been through everything can be.

you try to move, try to shift off him gently, but suna catches the motion. his eyes drop immediately between your legs and he groans—deep and low in his throat, like he’s trying to keep it in but fails.

your mixed slick is coating your thighs, still trickling slowly down onto his stomach, and the sight wrecks him.

“fuck,” he breathes, eyes darkening again. “look at the mess we made…”

you don’t even get the chance to respond—not when you feel it.

him.

hardening again beneath you.

you glance down, eyes wide, as his cock, flushed and glistening, twitches back to life against his stomach. he’s already half-hard again, his breathing uneven just from the sight of you still soaked, your folds glistening and dripping with his cum.

“rinnie…” you murmur, somewhere between breathless and shy, “again?”

“i can’t help it,” he groans, one hand gripping your hip, the other sliding up your back. “you’re still dripping, baby. fuck, i didn’t even get to watch it all spill out properly…”

you tremble, heat spiraling through your core again despite the exhaustion in your limbs.

“you do something to me,” he murmurs, sitting up so you’re straddling his lap again, chests flush. his cock presses right against your slit now, nudging between your folds, still slick with everything. “you make me insatiable.”

he leans in, kissing you—slow and greedy—his fingers sliding down to spread you open again, groaning into your mouth when he feels how soft and wet you still are.

“and you’re still ready for me,” he adds, voice rough. “still warm. still fucking perfect.”

you whimper into the kiss, rocking your hips against him again, helpless to the way your body responds.

your pussy’s still sore, stretched, and yet—his need for you, the heat of his voice, the mess between your thighs—has you wanting him again already.

“you think you can ride me now, sweetheart?” he murmurs, thumb grazing your clit with a featherlight touch. “wanna see you take me like you missed me.”

and you nod, breathless, already sinking back down—ready to remind him that no matter how many times he fills you, no matter how much he takes, you’ll always want more.

always want him.

your body aches, your thighs tremble, and your pussy’s still throbbing from everything he’s already given you—but none of that matters. not when he’s looking up at you like this. not when his touch is soft on your hips, like he’s trying to ground himself in your warmth.

suna leans back slightly against the pillows, legs spread, his toned chest rising and falling with each breath as he watches you from beneath heavy lids. his cock stands hard again, already flushed and leaking, the head slick from your shared release earlier.

“come here, baby,” he murmurs, voice low, thick with need. one of his hands slides down between you, wrapping around the base of his cock as he guides you toward it. “i’ll hold it. just take your time.”

you shift your hips, positioning yourself over him, your hands braced against his chest. slowly, carefully, you lower yourself down—letting the thick, aching head stretch you open once more.

both of you groan.

the feeling of him sinking into you again—after already being fucked so thoroughly—makes your head spin. he’s hot, thick, deep, and every inch feels like too much and still not enough.

“that’s it,” he pants, watching your face, his grip tightening around the base as you inch down farther. “take all of me. let me stretch you out again.”

you moan, breath hitching as your body accepts him—slowly, completely—until your hips finally meet his. you’re seated fully now, and you can feel everything. the stretch. the twitch. the fullness that has your pussy fluttering helplessly around him.

“fuck, you feel unreal,” he groans, both hands now gripping your waist. “look at you—already squeezing me like that.”

you begin to move—shallow bounces at first, your thighs trembling slightly with each rise and fall. his hands guide you, steady you, and soon your movements grow bolder—more confident—grinding down against his pelvis with every bounce.

the sound of slick skin meeting skin fills the room again, the wet heat of your cunt wrapping him so tightly that suna’s jaw clenches, eyes fluttering shut for a moment before he opens them again—locked on you.

“come here,” he growls, sitting up suddenly, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer until your chest is pressed to his.

and then—his mouth finds your breast.

he sucks in your nipple hungrily, moaning around the soft skin as he tongues it, teeth grazing lightly before he switches to the other with a wet pop. his hands never stop guiding your hips, helping you ride him in rhythm, pushing you down harder each time he thrusts up into you.

“rinnie—!” you cry, your hands tangled in his hair as you arch into his mouth, pleasure building again too fast. “that feels so good…”

“yeah?” he breathes between kisses and licks, lips shining. “these pretty tits missed me too, huh?”

he lavishes each nipple with attention—sucking, licking, pulling with just enough force to make your back arch and your pussy clamp down around him.

your rhythm grows messy, your moans louder, the coil in your belly winding tighter again as he thrusts up to meet every bounce of your hips, his cock dragging along all the right places inside you.

“don’t stop, baby,” he pants, fucking up into you now with more urgency. “wanna feel you cum again—ride me just like that—show me how much you missed this cock.”

and you do.

you ride him like your body was made to fit his. like his cock was crafted just for you—thick and deep and angled so perfectly that every bounce forces the air from your lungs and sends shocks of pleasure through your spine.

every time you drop your hips, he thrusts up to meet you, and the head of his cock kisses your cervix with an aching precision that leaves you trembling. it’s deep. devastating. the kind of depth that makes your vision blur and your breath come in stuttered moans.

“rinnie—fuck—it’s so deep,” you gasp, head falling to his shoulder. “i-i feel lightheaded…”

“i know, baby,” he murmurs, voice low and full of praise, his hands gripping your hips tighter, helping guide your rhythm. “you’re taking it so well. so fuckin’ good for me.”

his mouth finds your neck again, pressing kisses beneath your jaw, tongue flicking against the heat of your pulse point. one of his hands slides up, fingers splayed across your lower back, holding you steady as he bucks up harder, faster, the sound of your bodies meeting growing louder, wetter, messier.

your thighs burn. your clit rubs against the ridge of his pelvis with every movement. and your pussy—slick, swollen, fluttering—clings to him so desperately you swear you can feel the outline of every vein.

weeks. it’s been weeks.

weeks of aching. of waiting. of touching yourself in the quiet of night and hating how empty it felt.

but this?

this is everything.

his heat. his hands. the way he fills you up and stays there, panting against your skin like he needs you just as badly.

“missed this pussy,” he groans, voice cracking as your walls squeeze around him again. “so tight. so warm. no one gets to have you like this—just me.”

your thighs quake where they straddle him, your nails leaving crescent-shaped dents in his chest as your movements begin to falter. the rhythm you kept moments ago—desperate, steady, purposeful—is now stuttering into something sloppy and slow, hips barely rolling, your muscles too spent to keep up.

your head dips forward, forehead pressing into his shoulder as your mouth falls open in a soft, breathless moan.

that’s when he notices.

the way your moans turn into soft, broken whimpers.

the way your body trembles like it’s overwhelmed, overstimulated, ruined.

and suna grins.

a slow, knowing smirk curls against his lips as he looks up at you, the flush on your cheeks, the faraway haze in your eyes. his hands slide down, gripping your hips tighter, keeping you perched on his cock like a doll about to fall apart.

“ohhh,” he murmurs, voice deep, lazy, almost playful. “is my baby going cock dumb?”

you whimper, too dazed to even respond properly, only nodding against his neck as your pussy flutters around him again—wet, sensitive, clinging to every inch of him like your body can’t bear the thought of him pulling out.

“yeah?” he coos, a note of pride in his tone. “that’s what i thought.”

he doesn’t wait. he shifts beneath you, adjusting his position just slightly, and then—he starts to fuck up into you from below.

you sob, your fingers flying to clutch his shoulders as his cock punches into you over and over again, so deep, the tip brushing your cervix with every sharp thrust. the slick mess between your thighs makes the glide obscene—wet, hot, perfect.

“you were riding me so good, baby,” he pants, teeth grazing the shell of your ear. “now look at you. barely holding on. just sittin’ on my cock like a dumb little bunny, letting me do all the work.”

his hands move to your ass, gripping tight, guiding your hips to grind down in rhythm with his thrusts. your clit rubs against his pubic bone just right—enough to make your entire body twitch.

“feels good, doesn’t it?” he murmurs, mouth dragging along your jaw. “so deep. so full. this what you missed while i was gone, huh?”

“y-yes, rin—please, it’s so much—”

“you can take it,” he groans, pressing his forehead against yours. “you always do.”

then his mouth finds your nipple again—wet, hungry, greedy—sucking hard as he fucks you harder. his tongue flicks over the sensitive peak while one hand slips between your bodies again to rub tight, deliberate circles over your clit.

the stimulation is blinding.

his cock fucking up into you like he’s trying to brand the shape of himself into your body.

his mouth at your chest.

his voice whispering filth and devotion in the same breath.

his fingers never stopping.

“cum for me again, baby,” he grits, his thrusts turning rougher, deeper. “wanna feel that pretty pussy gush all over me again. i need to feel it.”

your back arches. your thighs start to shake again. and your orgasm builds fast—white-hot and overwhelming, swelling inside you like pressure about to burst.

“rinnie—!” you cry, your entire body going taut. “i—i’m cumming—!”

and then it hits.

your walls clench hard—tightening around him like a vice, squeezing his cock so perfectly it draws a strangled moan from deep in his chest. your climax rips through you like a tidal wave, crashing fast and furious, leaving you breathless as your moans dissolve into shattered whimpers. your entire body trembles in his lap, thighs quaking, nails digging into his shoulders as your release gushes from you uncontrollably. it hits hard—sharp, hot, overwhelming—and then your body reacts.

you squirt.

the pressure releases all at once, sudden and messy, and your slick spills out of you in wet pulses. it covers both your thighs and his abs, drenching his lower stomach, soaking his cock, the bed beneath you already ruined. you gasp, head thrown back, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as the pleasure peaks and doesn’t let go.

“fuck,” suna groans, watching it happen with parted lips, jaw slack. “you squirted, baby—fuck, look at that. look what i do to you.”

you can’t even answer. you’re still shaking, barely able to hold yourself upright, your thighs limp where they straddle his lap. you feel like you’ve melted, like you’ve unraveled entirely. and still—still—he’s hard inside you. still thick, still pulsing, twitching against your oversensitive walls. he doesn’t stop. he doesn’t even think about stopping.

instead, he grips your hips tight, lifts you slightly, and drives up into you again.

your cry is sharp and wrecked, fingernails dragging down his back as your overstimulated cunt clamps around him again, your whole body jerking from the intensity.

“s–suna—rinnie—please, i—” you gasp, but the words fall apart when he thrusts again, deep, slow, and deliberate.

“oh, you’re not done,” he murmurs against your skin, voice low and feral. “you think you can cum like that and not get fucked through it?”

you try to speak again, try to find something to cling to, but then he rolls his hips up—his cock dragging against every too-sensitive nerve ending inside you—and your hands fly to his shoulders, digging in hard. your nails scratch down his back in helpless, shaky arcs, and he groans, head falling to your neck, his breath hot against your skin.

“mark me, baby,” he pants, fucking up into you harder now. “go ahead. scratch me. bite me. let me feel how good it is.”

you do. without even thinking, you sink your teeth into the skin of his shoulder, muffling your moan as another wave of pleasure slams into you. he hisses through his teeth, hips jerking up in response, his cock pressing even deeper—filling you in a way that has your body arching, your head spinning.

“you’re so fuckin’ wet,” he growls, the sound of your soaked pussy squelching around him with every thrust. “this pussy’s so messy for me. so fuckin’ perfect. you like it when i fuck you after you cum, huh? when you’re too sensitive and still can’t stop squeezing me?”

you nod against his shoulder, still biting down, your moans breaking through your clenched jaw as he picks up the pace. he’s relentless now, hands holding your hips in place as he uses you—drives up into you with hard, deep thrusts that have your breath catching, your entire body lit up from the overstimulation.

each drag of his cock makes you twitch. each grind of his hips against yours sends another electric shock through your system.

you’re sobbing now—too much, too full, too fucked out—and he’s still praising you through it.

“take it, baby,” he breathes. “take all of it. you’re doing so good. let me fuck you dumb. let me make you forget your own name.”

your pussy flutters again, clenching down on him like a vice, and he groans so loud it vibrates through your chest. his rhythm stutters, hips bucking more erratically now, breath catching.

“gonna fill you up again,” he growls, voice wrecked. “wanna cum so deep, make you feel me for days.”

you nod again, eyes rolling back, body giving in completely.

“please,” you whisper. “please, rinnie, cum inside me. want all of it.”

that’s what does it.

he lets out a low, broken moan, burying his face in your neck as he thrusts deep, deeper, then stills—his cock twitching violently as he spills inside you. thick warmth fills you again, flooding your sore, stretched walls as he holds you tight, arms trembling around your waist, chest rising and falling in heavy, uneven breaths.

he stays there, buried to the hilt, pulsing, groaning softly as you twitch around him—still trembling, still so full, your walls fluttering weakly with every aftershock. his cum leaks out in slow, warm trails, dripping down between your thighs and smearing across both your bodies in the tangled mess you’ve made together.

but even after everything—after you squirted all over his abs, after he came deep inside you for the second time, after your entire body is limp and trembling in his arms—you feel it.

him.

still hard.

still inside you.

and when you whimper, shifting just a little on his lap, the slight movement makes his cock twitch again, still thick and rigid despite how thoroughly he just came. your head lolls against his shoulder, dazed and barely able to think straight.

“rin… you’re still… hard?”

he chuckles low in your ear, the sound deep and smug, his hands stroking slowly down your back.

“told you i missed you,” he murmurs, voice rasping with the weight of his lust. “i’m not done.”

you don’t even have the strength to respond—not with words. but your pussy clenches weakly around him, your thighs twitching, and that’s answer enough.

he shifts you gently, guiding your hips again, and groans when the motion makes your swollen, used cunt squeeze down on him with resistance. you’re sore, so sore, but the sensation of still being stretched open around him, of still feeling his cock twitching inside you, has heat building in your gut again.

“i’ve been away too long,” he mutters, lifting you slightly before thrusting back in—slow and deep, making you moan softly against his skin. “weeks without you. you think i’m gonna stop at two rounds?”

you cry out softly as he starts to move again, dragging his cock in and out of you with slow, grinding thrusts, letting you feel every inch. it’s not rushed this time—it’s deliberate. heavy. sensual. his hands cradle your hips, guiding your body to meet his rhythm.

“you deserve more than that,” he whispers, brushing his lips along your cheek. “deserve to be fucked so good you can’t walk tomorrow.”

you bury your face in his neck, moaning weakly, body already starting to melt again as overstimulation gives way to something new—slower, deeper, a third round wrapped in pleasure that borders on worship.

suna leans back against the pillows, shifting you slightly so your knees are spread wider, your chest pressed close to his, his cock sliding even deeper from the angle. he kisses you then—soft and possessive—while his hips roll up into you again and again, stretching you slowly as your slick mixes with his release and drips down his shaft.

“you gonna let me make up for all that lost time, baby?” he whispers against your lips, voice husky. “gonna let me fuck you again? take it like the good girl you are?”

you nod helplessly, barely coherent now. every inch of your skin feels fevered. your heart pounds. your body burns for him again.

and he gives you everything.

he proves himself over and over again.

with every deep thrust that leaves you gasping.

with every kiss that lingers on your skin like a promise.

with every time he brings you to the edge and pulls you back in.

and long into the night—until you’ve lost track of how many times you’ve cum, how many times he’s filled you—he holds you close, bodies still joined, proving that you were never too much to want.

he just needed time to remember how much he missed everything about you.

now here he was, kneeling at the edge of the bed with a towel in hand, wiping your thighs with slow, deliberate care.

the room is warm with the scent of sex and sweat, heavy with the afterglow of everything that’s just unraveled between you. the sheets are a soaked mess beneath you, tangled and clinging to your body, while your limbs lie slack, trembling, utterly spent. your skin is flushed, glistening in the low light. your chest rises and falls in unsteady breaths, and your thighs twitch involuntarily every time he touches you—still reeling from that final climax.

suna is quiet now, all of that teasing energy faded into something softer, something intimate. his hands move gently over your legs, wiping up the slick trails of cum and arousal that have dripped down to the backs of your knees. his thumb strokes just beneath the crease of your thigh, and even that has you flinching.

“easy,” he murmurs, glancing up at you with tired but affectionate eyes. “i’ve got you.”

you nod weakly, your voice hoarse from moaning his name all night. “i know… i’m just still—sensitive.”

he smiles at that. “yeah, i know.”

you watch as he folds the towel, his brows furrowed in concentration as he leans back in, wiping again, slower now.

and then, because he’s always been a little selfish when it comes to you, suna leans in and presses a kiss to the inside of your trembling thigh.

“rin—” you start, a soft warning in your voice, but it’s too late.

his tongue is already dragging up your overstimulated slit, collecting the last remnants of his cum and your release, and you gasp, your hips jerking upward as your hand flies to his hair.

“i’m just cleaning you up,” he murmurs with a devilish smirk, but the way his mouth moves against you is anything but innocent. it’s slow, tender, savoring.

and somehow, even after everything—your body responds.

your legs twitch again, a sharp tremor crawling up your spine, and you shake your head, breath catching.

“rinnie—please—i can’t—” you whisper, but you’re already grinding against his mouth without realizing it.

his arms snake around your thighs, holding you open as his tongue dips into your entrance again, licking you through it, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

one long stroke, then another.

and your body gives up.

you squirt again.

it’s sudden and messy, a wet gasp tearing from your throat as you soak his face with a hot rush of release. it pours down your thighs and splashes across his chest, some of it dripping to the floor beside the bed, and you collapse fully into the sheets, eyes fluttering back as your body convulses one last time.

he groans into you like it’s the best gift he’s ever received, letting the warmth of your release soak him as he finally pulls back—face dripping, lips parted, his abs slick and glistening.

“shit, baby…” he pants, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he looks at you with pure disbelief. “you really missed me.”

you can’t even answer. you just groan, turning your head into the pillow, utterly ruined.

he laughs, breathless and fond, and reaches for a clean towel, dabbing your thighs again, this time with a reverence that makes your heart ache. he doesn’t rush. he wipes gently between your legs, pressing soft kisses to your knees, your hips, the swell of your stomach.

“okay,” he murmurs, voice low now, soothing. “let’s get you in the shower. you need to be warm and clean. i’ll help you.”

you don’t protest. you can’t. your body’s heavy and sore, but when suna lifts you into his arms bridal-style, everything in you goes quiet. safe. anchored. he carries you down the hall, bare skin against bare skin, your arms looped around his neck as your head rests on his shoulder.

the bathroom light is soft. the water’s already running—warm, with the faintest scent of lavender from the body wash you both share.

suna sets you down carefully on the shower bench and steps inside with you, guiding your body beneath the spray. he stands behind you, shielding you from the pressure of the water, and wraps his arms around your waist, resting his cheek against the back of your head.

you sigh. the water rolls down your skin like peace itself, soothing the soreness blooming in your thighs, the ache between your legs, the raw tremble in your muscles from being thoroughly and lovingly ruined. you lean back against suna’s chest, his arms wrapped around your waist, his chin resting lightly on your shoulder as the steam rises around you both.

but the silence—the warmth—the intimacy—it's not enough.

not when he’s right there.

not when your body still remembers the stretch of him inside you. not when your skin is still buzzing with the echo of every touch, every kiss, every praise-soaked thrust.

"rin…" your voice is quiet, a bit raspier than usual, fragile and needy, "i want more."

he doesn’t move right away. you can feel his lips curve into the faintest smile against your wet shoulder.

then his arms tighten around you.

“baby…” he hums, low and indulgent. “you’ve cum how many times tonight?”

you pout, head tipping back to rest against his shoulder, eyes fluttering open lazily. “i don’t know. a lot?”

he chuckles, nuzzling into the curve of your neck, his breath warm and teasing against your damp skin.

“exactly. you squirted so many times i lost count. you’re spent,” he murmurs. “and i’m not about to let you pass out in the shower just because your pussy’s greedy.”

you flush, both from the warmth of the water and his words, and you squirm a little in his hold, grinding back against where you can already feel him half-hard, heat pressed up against the curve of your ass. you’re too sensitive to do anything serious, but even the faint contact has both of you groaning quietly.

still, he tightens his grip immediately, stilling your hips with a firm hand across your stomach.

“hey,” he warns, voice suddenly stern against your ear. “what did i just say?”

“but—”

“no buts,” he mutters, mouth brushing along your jaw as he presses a slow, open-mouthed kiss there. “don’t make me bend you over this bench and hold your thighs open while you cry from overstimulation.”

you shiver—not entirely from fear.

he smirks again, knowing exactly what he’s doing, before softening as he kisses your temple.

“i mean it,” he murmurs. “you’ve been so good for me tonight. let me take care of you properly. you’ll get more tomorrow—hell, you’ll get everything tomorrow.”

you lean back into him, huffing softly, your bottom lip jutting out as you whisper, “promise?”

suna kisses the pout away, slow and deliberate.

“i promise,” he breathes. “wanna see you on your knees. then ride you again. want to fuck you in front of the mirror. all of it.”

you moan into the kiss, but when your hips twitch again—another teasing grind—he growls softly and slaps your thigh gently under the water.

“behave,” he murmurs against your lips.

so instead, you melt into him, letting him tilt your chin toward his, his mouth finding yours again with no rush, no heat—just long, tender kisses beneath the stream of water. the kind that say i’m not done with you—not even close—but right now, i love you too much to fuck you again when your legs are already trembling.

your arms loop around his neck, fingers carding into his wet hair as he kisses you deeper. you moan softly when his tongue slides into your mouth, slow and deliberate, like he’s trying to memorize every inch of you all over again.

his hands roam your back, slow and reassuring, massaging out the tension in your shoulders. he kisses you again and again, coaxing you down from the edge you didn’t even know you were still standing on.

and even though he doesn’t take you again in the shower, that kiss—the way he holds you against him, strong and steady, murmuring soft little praises between each press of his lips—it feels like more. more than sex. more than lust. it’s him saying: i love you. i missed you. i see you.

when the water is turned off and the steam begins to settle, he wraps you gently in a towel and dries you off like you’re something fragile—like he’s afraid to lose you again to the space that had grown quietly between you these past few weeks.

suna hums under his breath while helping you into your favorite sleep shirt, one that’s oversized and soft, one that used to be his. he slides on his boxers, still damp around the edges, then gently combs his fingers through your damp hair, tucking it behind your ears like it’s second nature. there’s no rush in any of it—just tenderness, care, and quiet devotion.

back in bed, the sheets have been changed—he did that too, while you rested your head against the bathroom counter, legs too weak to stand fully. now the duvet is clean and warm, the lights dimmed low, and when you climb into bed beside him, his arms are already waiting to pull you into the curve of his body.

you curl into him like muscle memory, your leg tangled over his, cheek pressed against his chest. his hand strokes your back lazily, up and down, grounding you.

“you’re so good to me,” you murmur, voice soft and sleepy.

“not as good as you are to me,” he replies without missing a beat, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

there’s a pause, a silence filled with his fingertips tracing shapes into your spine.

“rinnie,” you whisper, “you’re not… tired of me, right?”

his hand stills.

he shifts slightly, tilting your chin up so you’ll look at him, even in the low light.

“never,” he says firmly, his voice low and hoarse from everything—sex, emotion, everything. “i’d never get tired of you.”

you blink slowly, lip quivering just slightly. “even if we don’t do stuff like tonight all the time?”

“baby,” he murmurs, leaning down to kiss your temple, your cheek, then your lips. “i didn’t fall in love with you because of what we do in bed. i fell in love with you because you’re you. the way you always know when to check on me. the way you always leave the hallway light on because you know i hate coming home to a dark apartment. the way you still get nervous when i kiss your neck like i didn’t already make you mine years ago.”

his voice gets softer, more serious.

“i got exhausted. i let the world outside this apartment wear me down, and i forgot how much you were waiting for me. that’s on me. but being with you? coming home to you? touching you, holding you, just lying here like this? i crave it. i crave you. always.”

you bury your face into his neck, pressing a slow kiss to his skin, holding him tighter.

“i wanna sleep with you still inside me,” you whisper.

he tenses just slightly, then sighs into your hair with a low chuckle.

“you’re insatiable,” he murmurs, voice fond. “you really want me to stay inside you while you sleep?”

you nod against his neck. “you said you missed me…”

“i did,” he groans. “i still do. i always do.”

another sigh, this time heavier, but laced with nothing but surrender. he shifts onto his side, nudging your thighs apart as he settles behind you, one hand guiding himself back to your entrance—still slick, still warm.

he slides in slow, careful, groaning low in his throat as he buries himself inside your sensitive cunt one last time.

you gasp, body relaxing immediately at the feeling of being full again—of him, deep and slow and safe.

he wraps his arms around you from behind, one hand cupping your breast, the other holding your waist as he presses a kiss to your shoulder.

“happy now?” he mumbles sleepily.

“mhm,” you breathe, already drifting. “perfect.”

and that’s how you fall asleep—his cock still nestled inside you, his arms wrapped tight around your body, your heart steady again in the rhythm of his presence.

for the first time in weeks, the bed doesn’t feel cold.

it feels like home.

[wobblingjello]

aughhh the spencer angst <\\3 I adore the way you write ur fics…if ur reqs r open could I possibly recommend spencer x reader who’s father is very very VERY similar to house md.

basically reader decides to take a very different career than her father, and would become a lawyer that often worked with the bau.

spencer and reader have been in a relationship for quite some time, so reader invited him to meet their father

OR

spencer is in the hospital for whatever reason and happens to meet their father

Hey! This is definitely not exactly like your request, but I actually already had a WIP about Spencer in the hospital situation even before the request, then I just added your suggestion on meeting the reader’s father part. I hope you like this! ^^

— Bloodline & Bullet Wound

Summary: You’ve been dating Spencer for quite some time, and it was only natural for your parents to start asking when they’d get to meet your “mysterious” boyfriend. However, you never expected that the first encounter between your dad and Spencer would be in the operating room. OR Spencer was shot, and your dad was the surgeon who led the surgery.

Genre: General, with a bit of humor (?)

Pairing: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3011

Dating Dr. Spencer Reid was not for the weak. He was very clear about how important his job was for him since the second date, as if he was giving you an out before things got serious between the two of you. Your job might not be as significant as his was, but as someone who was also passionate about your job, you understood where the concerns came from.

On top of his unpredictable work schedule that would take him miles away from you most of the time, the very same job made you live in constant fear that something terrible could happen to him at any time. So, no, it wasn’t the work schedule that worried you the most, but the awfulness that came with the job.

In the span of 7 months you’ve been dating him, every so often, you’d spot new bruises and scars on his body. Spencer knew how you felt whenever you saw those wounds. He’d tell you those were minor wounds, and the most important part was he made it home safe.

He rarely talked about the cases they worked on, however, he always insisted that having you in his apartment when he came back helped a lot. Like the current case they were working on, for example. Three days ago, Spencer had informed you that it was a local case, in which he could go back to his own apartment every night. So, you’ve been staying at his place for the last three days.

Even when working on a local case, there was no guarantee that he’d come home at normal hours. Yesterday, he was back around 11 PM, and went back to work so early in the morning. He apologized for disturbing your sleep whenever he went in and out of his apartment, but of course you never held it against him.

Early this evening he texted you that he’d most likely stay late at the office again, and you didn’t have to wait up for him. You two texted each other a few more times before Spencer was needed to go back to the case. Then you once again fell asleep in his bed alone.

A loud ringing from your phone woke you up in the middle of the night. You blindly reached your phone on the bedside table, and answered it without even bothering to check the ID. JJ’s voice on the other side of the line woke you up instantly.

“Hey. I’m so sorry for calling you this late.”

You could feel the tightness in your chest. “JJ, what’s going on?”

“Spence was shot. I haven’t heard further details since the MET brought him to the hospital. All I know is that they need to do surgery on him.”

Your heart sank to the bottom of your stomach at her statement.

Spencer.

Hospital.

Surgery.

Oh, God. Your worst nightmare has become reality. Your brain tried to remember the last thing you two talked about before you went to bed. Nothing. You couldn’t remember anything. What if you said something bad to him?

“Hello? Are you still there?”

“Yeah, sorry.” If she caught the shakiness in your voice, then she didn’t mention it.

“I’ll send you the details of the hospital. Garcia and Matt are already on their way there. You should contact them when you arrive. The rest of us will meet you at the hospital once we wrap things up in the crime scene. Please be careful.”

You threw on the sweatpants and hoodie, grabbed your purse and key, then rushed out of his apartment.

As you turned on the engine of your car, you keyed in the address of the hospital to the GPS. It would only take you approximately an hour to get there. If you drove close to the speed limit, while adding the probability of how vacant the street was at almost 1 AM, you could definitely make it less than an hour. 

Once your car hit the road, thankfully, there was almost no other car anywhere in sight. You dared yourself to drive as fast as you could while still being careful. The last thing you wanted was to be in an accident while Spencer was fighting for his life in the operating room.

Just like you had predicted, you made it to the hospital in under an hour. You immediately called Penelope as you walked out of the parking lot. She waited for you at the lobby, and as soon as she saw you, she was all over you — trying to assure you that Spencer would be alright, that he’d make it out alive. You appreciated her kindness, really, but right now, your mind was incapable of forming positive thoughts. No, your mind went completely blank after that phone call with JJ. Honestly, it was a miracle that you managed to get to the hospital safely.

Once the two of you walked to the waiting area, you saw Matt facing the operating room. As if he sensed another presence in the room, perhaps he did, he was an agent after all, he turned around. He looked relieved when he saw you made it to the hospital just fine. He gestured to you and Penelope to sit on the nearest 3-seat chair. 

On your left, Matt briefed you the situation as best as he could given how shaken you currently were. Penelope, sitting on your right, tried to comfort you by squeezing your hands.

It was a horrible situation. The team had figured out there were two UnSubs in this case. By the time the team cornered one of the UnSub in their hiding place, they were still trying to talk him out of the situation — hopefully they could take both UnSubs alive. As they tried to make him surrender with no violence, in some sick twisted way, the partner walked right to that situation. Not very clever of him, honestly. The team also had figured out that one of the UnSubs was messier than the other. Once the partner realized there was no way out for both of them, he started shooting. Unfortunately, Spencer, who stood the closest to the other UnSub, was shot. Eventually, both UnSubs were dead.

It all happened in a blink of an eye. Once the situation was cleared, Rossi immediately instructed the EMT to get into the crime scene. The EMT left to bring Spencer to the hospital as fast as they got in. Tara called Matt, who stayed in the office with Penelope at that time, and told them to go to the hospital. At the same time, JJ called you, and basically said the same thing.

For a split second, you selfishly wished Spencer had stayed at the office too, so none of this would have happened to him.

The rest of the team arrived at the hospital almost 30 minutes later. They all look exhausted, like they all could crash out any time soon. You spotted dried blood on Emily’s shirt — wondering if that was Spencer’s. You felt a twist in the bottom of your stomach just from the thought of it.

In the waiting area, the BAU team took turns to take a quick rest. It seemed uncomfortable given how small the 3-seat chairs were. At some point, Matt and JJ excused themselves to go home, which understandable since they had their own families.

The waiting time felt like eternity for you. Some of Spencer’s team members had told you to take some rest, but you refused to do so. You were afraid you wouldn’t be awake by the time the surgery was done. 

What was exactly happening inside the operating room? How long would it take for them to finish the surgery?

By the time it marked the 3 hours, someone walked out of the operating room. Everyone in the waiting area instantly got on their feet. The moment the surgeon took off his mask, your mouth was wide open.

“Dad!?”

He was equally surprised at the sight of you. “Muffin? What are you doing here?”

Your nose scrunched at his term of endearment. “Um, I’m Spencer’s emergency contact?” That came out more like a question than an answer.

“That —” He dramatically pointed out to the direction of the operating room. “— is your boyfriend?”

The BAU team was simultaneously shocked and amused at the unexpected family reunion. They intently listened to the exchange while looking back and forth at the father-daughter duo. Your mind was solely focused on Spencer the entire time, you completely forgot this was also the hospital your dad worked at.

You heard Emily cleared her throat at your right. “As much as I enjoy this little family reunion, can you please give us an update on Reid’s condition?” She addressed your dad.

“Right. We’ll circle back to this later, Muffin.” Then he turned to face Emily. “He lost a lot of blood. It was touch and go there for a while. If he was shot one millimeter to the left, he probably wouldn’t make it. It was a miracle, really. He still needs to recover for another few days, but he’ll be able to walk out of here just fine.”

“Can we see him?” This time, it was Luke who asked the question.

“Not right now. I’ll recommend you to see him later in the next few hours.” Then he looked directly at you. “That applies to you too.” You were about to complain when he stopped you. “Go home. Get some rest. I’ll personally call you when he wakes up.”

One by one the members of the BAU said their thank you to your dad, then left the hospital. They deserved that rest. You lingered in the waiting area a bit longer, wanting to have a private conversation with your dad. It seemed he also had the same thought, because he hadn’t moved from his position.

You walked up to your dad, and immediately hugged him. The moment he hugged you back, it felt like you finally could breathe again. Without you even realizing it, the tears started falling down your cheeks.

“You saved his life. Thank you, Dad.” Your voice was barely audible.

“I can’t believe I just performed a surgery on your boyfriend. Your mom will probably be mad at me if she finds out that I had met him without her.”

You knew the last part was him trying to lighten up your mood. “She’ll live. But I’m sure she’ll ask again for that dinner sooner than later.”

He chuckled at that. “That she will.” He released you from the hug, but put his hands on your shoulders. “Seriously, go home. I promise I’ll call you.”

You hugged your dad one more time before leaving the hospital.

If there was one thing that you felt grateful for today, it was the fact that it was Sunday. You didn’t even realize how tired you were until you were back to Spencer’s apartment. You couldn’t imagine if you had to go to work after what just happened. God, imagine how exhausted his colleagues were right now. You were sure you would fall asleep straight away the moment you touched the bed.

The ringing from your phone once again woke you up. This time, you checked the caller before answering. Your dad.

“Hey, Muffin. Did you actually get some sleep?” His don’t-lie-to-me tone was as clear as the sky outside.

You chuckled at his question. “I did, thank you for asking, Dad. Is he awake?” Now, you hesitantly asked him.

“Yes. He just woke up. The nurses are checking on him, but he can have visitors now. I’m pretty sure someone from the administration had contacted one of his colleagues, but maybe you want to inform them as well.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll do that.” You went quiet for a beat or two, then continued. “Thank you, again, Dad. I love you. I’ll see you later at the hospital.”

“I love you too, kiddo. Drive safely.”

You checked the time on your phone, past 10 AM. Well, you definitely had better sleep before, but considering the circumstances, it wasn’t that bad. This time around, you took your time to get ready before leaving. You knew Spencer wouldn’t mind if you came to the hospital looking like someone who just rolled out of the bed, but you intended to spend some time with your dad too, so you wanted to look at least decent enough. The hospital was still his workplace after all.

As you grabbed your purse and key, your stomach let out an embarrassing loud noise. Alright, making a quick pit stop to the patisserie wouldn’t hurt. Perhaps bought something for your dad too while you were at it.

Before you left the apartment, you sent a message to Emily, updating her on Spencer’s condition, while also informing her that you were on the way to the hospital. You were sure she’d pass along the information to the rest of the team.

When you arrived at the hospital, you didn’t go to Spencer’s room immediately. Instead, you called your dad and asked where he was. You wanted to give him a bag full of freshly baked pastries you bought at your favorite patisserie on the way.

Once the pastries were safely delivered to your dad, and spent a decent amount of time catching up with him, you marched your way to Spencer’s room.

Even from the hallway, you could tell which one his room was. You already heard the laughter of the people in his team you started becoming familiar with. You felt the warm fuzzy feeling spreading in your chest from knowing how much he was cherished by those people and vice versa.

You knocked on the door to announce your presence, and all heads turned towards your direction. You noticed how his eyes lit up from the sight of you entering his room. Everyone made some room for you, so you could sit on his bed. Your hand instantly found his — caressing the back of his hand while still being mindful of the IV.

You all shared stories and laughter in the tiny hospital room. Grateful that Spencer survived this horrifying event. JJ showed you the drawing her sons made for Spencer. Even the little ones adored your boyfriend. Through all of this, not even once you two let each other’s hands go.

Eventually, his colleagues bid their farewell, but not before wishing him a speedy recovery.

“Hey, angel.” He flashed you a smile.

“Hey. I want to ask how you are, but that sounds silly. I mean, of course you’re not fine.” You let out a shaky breath. “You scared me, you know?”

“I’m better now.” He gave your hand a squeeze. “So… Your dad was the one who performed the surgery on me…”

“Yeah. That was… Wild. I’m pretty sure half his soul left his body when he realized you’re the mysterious boyfriend.” You giggled at the memory of your dad’s reaction. “He said he’d check up on you later.”

Not even 5 minutes later, your dad knocked on the door. As if you had summoned him. He checked up on Spencer, notified the two of you on your boyfriend’s latest condition, etcetera, while keeping a straight face. He deserved to be applauded for his professionalism.

However, the spell broke once your dad was done with his examination.

“So, I heard you’re dating my daughter.” Your dad casually said while staring at Spencer dead in the eye.

Your boyfriend, clearly nervous, cleared his throat. “Yes, sir. It’s unfortunate that our first encounter is under such an awful circumstance.” He tried to straighten up his position as best as he could. “My name is Dr. Spencer Reid… But surely you already know that since you’re currently holding my medical chart.” 

“Doctor, huh? I thought he’s with the FBI?” His eyebrow went up as he looked at you now.

“Not a doctor like you, Dad.”

“Um, I have 3 PhDs.”

“That’s impressive. Well, I’m not interested in giving you any fatherly speeches for dating my daughter. At least not while you’re still recovering. I guess I’ll see you around, but hopefully not at the hospital again.” Your dad fully turned to face you this time. “My shift is about to end. Why don’t you come home with me? I’m sure your mom will be thrilled to see you. Especially if she finds out what just happened in less than 24 hours.”

Your dad gave the two of you one last look before he was leaving the room.

“I guess it went well.”

“Yeah, it could’ve been worse. Like, you know, he could secretly dose me with something that might kill me.”

“And why would he do that?”

“Because I’m dating his daughter?”

You burst out laughing at his answer. “Oh, babe. You’re as dramatic as he is. You two will be best buddies before you know it.”

“You should spend some time with your family. I’ll still be here until your dad deems me healthy enough to go home.”

“Alright. I’ll be back tomorrow. I love you.”

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

You glanced at your boyfriend one last time, then closed the door to his room.

You saw your dad waiting for you at the end of the hallway — his white coat was long gone. Now that he knew about Spencer, and your mom would soon know too, it didn’t really sound like a bad thing at all. It wasn’t like you didn’t want to introduce him to your parents, it just felt too soon. Plus, between Spencer’s unpredictable work schedule and your dad’s long hour shift at the hospital, it was quite a challenge to set up a dinner with your parents.

Now that the cat was out of the bag, you were just happy that the most important people in your life would finally get to know each other. You were sure your mom would be more than happy to help you arrange the dinner, and you couldn’t wait for it to happen.

[bad268]

Hiiiiii

Could you maybe do smth with kimi antonelli. I had this idea where reader and him are playing mario kart and maybe she finally beats him and teases him about it. And to shut her up he just starts kissing her (if you’re comfortable writing that)

Ps: i looooove your stuff

Shut Up & Drive (Andrea Kimi Antonelli X Reader)

Fandom: RPF/Formula 1

Requested: Clearly (You have reawoken my Mario Kart side-)

Warnings: None

POV: Second Person (You/your)

W.C. 1171

Summary: The Reader challenges Kimi to Mario Kart and wont shut up.

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^Pinterest)

“I am aware that you race cars for a living, but I could totally kick your ass in Mario Kart.”

Those were fighting words you said while flying home one night after a long weekend, where Kimi actually scored well given the circumstances. Many of the drivers were affected by the heat, and there were a few bad accidents that took out a bunch of drivers. 

In the end, only 12 drivers saw the checkered flag. Kimi still brought home points, but you could tell he was feeling the effects of driving in the hot, dirty air for so long. 

That’s why, instead of letting him sleep on the long flight home, you forced him to play Mario Kart with you. You had chugged an energy drink too late in the day. You were wired and ready to make it everyone’s problem.

“Who are you picking?” You asked as you loaded up the screen, slightly bouncing in your seat. “It says a lot about who you are.”

“I don’t know. Is Mario good?” Kimi muttered sleepily as he gave you the side eye.

“Yeah,” You shrugged, “If you like being boring.”

“Well, who do you play then?” Kimi chuckled lightly before leaning his head back against the seat and dropping the controller in his lap.

“Shy guy, always have been, always will be,” You replied immediately as you selected your favorite colour Shy Guy, and watched him stay on the character screen without picking one. “Do you want opinions or are you just trying to waste time?”

“Sure, give me your analysis,” Kimi sighed as he rolled his head onto his shoulder to look at you.

“Well, I don’t really care about character specs, but my friends really like Link, Princess Peach and Dry Bones,” You answered, showing him the characters on the screen.

“What is this one?” Kimi questioned as he landed on your sworn enemy.

“Baby Bowser,” You replied with a grimace, “Well, technically it’s Bowser Jr., but still. Nothing against the character in this game, but I hate him in Super Smash.”

“Did he personally wrong you?” Kimi chuckled lightly at your reaction.

“Yes,” You replied seriously. 

“I highly doubt that.”

“Just don’t question me,” You waved him off by bumping your shoulder against his. “Worst case, you can always choose your Mii character.”

“I’ll just go with…” He paused, using his controller to go around the characters before landing on one, “Luigi.”

“Hot, okay,” You joked as you confirmed your own character and moved to select your karts. “I like motorcycles, but that’s just me. Pick whatever you want.”

“Hey, this one looks like my car!” Kimi chuckled, selecting it immediately as you moved into the course selections. “What is the easiest one?”

“Baby Park,” You answered, going through the courses to find the specific one. You found it easily after playing it so many times and clicked to load it up.

“So, is there a reason you selected Big Blue?”

“Because I never lose Big Blue.”

“I see how it is,” Kimi said under his breath as your two characters lined up for the race. “Are you scared I’ll win?” “Nope,” You said, popping the ‘p’. “I’ve never lost Big Blue.”

“Well, get ready to.”

“Yeah, right,” You scoffed as you got a boost off the line. Before you even reached the first row of boxes, you went from 12th place to the top five while Kimi was still down in 9th. “Are you even trying? Oh my gosh, you suck.”

“It’s the first corner,” Kimi defended with a smile, “We have-how many laps is this? Three or five?”

“Why would it be five laps?” You scoffed as you threw a couple of red shells at the characters ahead of you and got up to second place. “It’s always three laps. And you better start getting better because there is not a lot of race left.”

“We’re not even done with the first lap,” Kimi said under his breath as he got into the top five.

“You’re not,” You cheered mockingly as you crossed the line for the first lap. “Y’know, this type of dominance could really bore fans.”

“We’re not even doing this with an audience,” Kimi muttered, stealing a glance at you as you focused on the game. “Should I be concerned?”

“You’re just jealous of my skills,” You teased, “You can admit it.”

“That’s not it,” Kimi trailed off as you moved into the third and final lap. Kimi had moved up to second at this point and was harbouring a red shell, but he didn’t have the heart to throw it at you when he saw that all you got were coins.

“What did I say?” You exclaimed accidentally, slapping a hand over your mouth when you remembered you were on a commercial flight. You cleared your throat before apologizing and dropping to a whisper as you shook Kimi’s shoulder, “What did I say? I told you! I don’t lose Big Blue! Never have, never will!”

“Yeah, I saw that,” Kimi chuckled as his character crossed the line in second.

“I don’t care if you are a professional driver or not! I am just too good on this track!” You continued boasting as the leaderboard appeared on the screen. “You should really take a few pointers from me. Like, don’t get rid of all of your items as soon as you get them, or maybe don’t fall off the side sometimes.”

“Okay, I get it,” Kimi sighed, but still looked at you with a soft smile on his face as he listened to you rant. 

“Or maybe hit the gas and use the exit boosts! I can show you how to drive a manual!” You continued enthusiastically. “It’s crazy how you never used a speed boost once. I am like a master at it, so I can give you a few pointers.”

“Oh, can you?” Kimi teased lightly, but you missed it completely.

“Or maybe you just need more practice!” You gasped a little louder than you had previously. “We have a super long flight back home, I know you don’t have anything to look over or do work or school-wise, and we can just play the whole time! I can show you shortcuts and teach you the ins and outs of all of the circuits, and -”

The next thing you knew, you couldn’t talk. Your eyes widened as your breath had been taken away by Kimi’s lips on yours. It took you by surprise, but it was never an unwelcome surprise to be kissing your boyfriend. It only took you a second to react, closing your eyes and melting against him. 

You dropped your controller on the tray table with your switch, opting to reach for Kimi’s hand instead when he pulled back with a cheeky smile.

“Are you going to shit up and drive now or do we need to do that again?” He asked lowly as he leaned to whisper in your ear.

“I wouldn’t mind doing that again.”

~~~~~

© BAD268 2025. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

[sereia4skz]

Hi, not the same anon that request the dad chan but could you write (story or text whatever ur mood is) abt sugar daddy chan spoiling his girl after a rough day? (Smut or not up to you) ❤️🦋

drabble | just let me

pairing: sugar daddy!chan x reader

genre: smutty fluff

warnings: oral (f!receiving), fingering, sugar daddy dynamics, praise, soft dom!chan, super brief

word count: ~400

masterlist: A-Side (texts) | B-Side (written)

You didn’t mean to bring your mood home. Really. But Chan notices the second you step into the penthouse suite.

You're quiet. Not the tired kind of quiet, the kind that says if anyone looks at you too kindly, you might just cry. 

He’s off the couch in seconds. “Shoes off, princess,” he murmurs, already crouching in front of you. “You’re home now.”

You manage a small smile. He doesn’t buy it.

“Bad day?” he asks, gently tugging your heels off, then your coat, folding everything neatly like a man with all the time in the world.

You nod, but you won’t meet his eyes.

“Come here.” His hand cups the back of your neck, guiding you forward until you’re seated between his legs on the couch, tucked into his chest. “Tell me what happened.”

You shake your head against him. “It’s stupid. I just feel... like everything went wrong today. People were short with me. Like I was a burden. Or invisible.”

Chan stills. Then his hands smooth over your back, firm and grounding.

“You are never a burden,” he says, low and certain. “And anyone who can’t see how precious you are doesn’t deserve to speak to you.”

You exhale shakily, trying not to cry. But he hears it. Feels it. The slight tremble in your body against his.

He tilts your chin up. “Let me take care of you,” he says softly. “Yeah?”

You nod this time. And that’s all he needs.

The bedroom’s warm, golden-lit, your favorite playlist humming low in the background. You’re half-naked before you realize it, lying across soft sheets as Chan kisses up your thighs.

“Nothing tonight but feeling good,” he murmurs. “That’s your only job, baby.”

You whimper when his mouth finds your core, warm and slow, like he’s worshipping you, not just pleasing you, revering you. His tongue moves with the patience of a man who has all night and all the time in the world for you.

Your hands fist in his hair. He hums against you.

“You taste so sweet when you’re sad,” he says, voice hoarse. “Let me make it better.”

He slips two fingers inside you, perfectly curved, and watches you fall apart with his lips against your thigh and praise spilling from his mouth like a mantra.

“So good for me, baby. So fucking soft. There you go…”

You come hard, trembling, with your name on his tongue and his name on your lips.

Later, when you’re tucked into his chest again, his hand stroking lazy patterns into your spine, he murmurs:

“Next time you feel small, remember this. You belong here. With me. Being spoiled. Being loved.”

You smile into his collarbone, kissed raw and safe.

“Okay.”

“Good girl,” he whispers.

And you sleep.

taglist: @diekleinesuesse @tillaboo @felixsonlyrealwife @geni-627 @skz8riley @lezleeferguson-120 @pixie-felix @headfirstfortoro @alnex05 @baby-stay92 @encoredesires @androgynouscrownorbit @channiesluvrclub @my-neurodivergent-world @chims-dimple @bookswillfindyouaway @stellasays45 @angel-writes-skz-here @m-325 @0sunshinecryptid0 @beal-o

pt2: @hug4helios @oksullen @rileylovescats @dreamyfelixx @yxna-bliss @turtledove824 @enhacolor @skzz0213 @hannahlue @purplelady85 @velvetmoonlght @inishij @bangchanspineapple @straykids4lifeee @peskybirdysya @gnabsss @zayn-210 @wolfhallows4 @katsukis1wife @sammhisphere

[lavenderangel111]

Heyyyy

I'm George's sister Valerie

I found loa in 2024 since then it's been a roller coaster. I was obsessed with changing my life but it was so hard to stay motivated. My family was poor and I was bullied for wearing old clothes and shoes. I have been bullied my whole life. My self esteem was shit. Deep down I didn't feel worthy of having a good life. I managed to manifest few things over the years but the thing I wanted the most is to enter void. When my brother started having problems with work I knew that I had to lock in. The breaking point for me was the day my brother called me from jail after he didn't come home which isn't something he would do. After that call I said f it all. I will enter void if it's the last thing I will do. I didn't sleep that night. I spent the whole night rampaging. I fell asleep what the sun rise. I woke up to my mom shouting and crying. My brother had come home looking like he had been to hell and come back. He was limping and had bruises all over his body. He had dried blood on his face and his clothes were torn. I'm crying just remembering. I'm so glad he got his revenge. Anyway, my mother and I helped cleaned his wounds and he went to sleep after taking pain killers. Both of my parents looked 20 years older. When my brother woke up from his nap he said that he would enter void. He said that if he enters he will manifest that we have always been rich and we have never suffered. I told him that I want to remember our old life and that he should manifest that I enter void. We were all so tired and we went to bed early.

The exciting part

I woke up in the middle pf the night to pee. Before I open my eyes I know that something feels different. My bed feels soft as a cloud. I opened my eyes and said oh shit. My room was completely different. I just sat there for 2 minutes crying because I couldn't believe that my brother actually did it. I wanted to run to his room to wake him up but I remembered that I had to pee. I put my feet on the ground and I felt this soft rug. I'm embarrassed to say that I got off the bed and rolled on the rug 🙈. I looked around my room and noticed that I had my own bathroom. I did my business and looked in the mirror but my face was still the same. I was almost disappointed then I remembered that I asked my brother to manifest for me to enter void so I ran to bed and lay on my back. I forced myself to stay still until I started to feel like I'm floating. I said "I am pure consciousness" until I fell asleep. When I woke up everything was black then I said "I have everything I want" then I just stayed there because it was so peaceful. I woke up and my room was different again. This time it was exactly what I wanted. I heard little feet on the floor and a bark. It was a puppy! A golden retriever. She's so cute and as soon as I picked her up she gave me lots of kisses. I stood up to check out the rest of my room and I was really impressed because I didn't have an exact picture of the things I wanted but I believed that everything would be perfect. I have a walk in closet full of so many things like expensive jewellery, shoes, clothes and purses. I also have a full length mirror. My jaw dropped when I saw my face and body. I look Unreal now. My skin is clear, my body is hairless, I have dark waist length hair and Hazel eyes, slim thick body. Everything is even better than I could have possibly imagined. I finished exploring my room and when I stepped outside my room, my brother was about to knock on my door and when he saw me and my puppy he said "Valerie what the hell???" Lol. I noticed that his injuries dissappear so I gave him a tight hug and thanked him a thousand times. I went to take shower and spent an hour in there playing with soaps shampoo and all the different shower settings 😂. I checked my phone and it was a Samsung S25. I saw that I was added to so many groups and I had a bunch of new friends 🧡. I went downstairs to have breakfast prepared by our new private chef with my family. My parents look so happy and carefree. I don't think I have ever seen them like this before. Later on i went to hang out wuth my friends and we took pictures for instagram. I saw that i have 95k follwers. I git home and cried again because i couldn't believe that me the girl who had no friends and was bullied has a perfect life now. I go to a private school and I'm the most popular girl in school. In tbe evening, my brother and i just sat in silence. I turned to him and said "is this what happiness feels like?" He said "Yes, we don't have to worry about anything ever again." I'm sorry for giving unnecessary details but I'm just so excited 😊. I'll end here.

I would like to thank everyone in the community. Your posts, advices and success stories kept me going. Lavender, I want to thank you for being there for my brother through the roughest time of his life. You're an angel 😇. Because of you we are now planning a family vacation and I'm going to have a sweet 16❤️. I love you so much 😘

Congratulations Valerie!!!

You guys have been through so much but everything worked out in the end. Some parts of your story made me cry and other parts made me laugh, I really enjoyed reading it and I love how detailed it was :) I could feel your excitement through the screen 💖

Have fun on your vacation! Love you too ❤️❤️

[bewitched-hours]

Forsaken | Mafioso & (His)Child!Reader (Part 2)

See part 1 here @lopfuuinhareanon @albinoxp Hope you enjoy o(≧▽≦)o

Reader gets She/Her again~

"And you're sure?" Chance asked you with a perplexed look.

"I saw them! They hesitated!" You protested, struggling against the gambler's grip with tears running over your cheeks.

Nothing you remembered in your past could've prepared you for watching your father actually kill someone. You knew he did it without question, you knew he'd sometimes come home with blood on him and need a bath before you could shower him in affection and stories from what you did with whichever goon stayed behind to watch you.

But you've never seen him actively kill someone...

And when you were the one he got, it felt even worse... Like you've done something to deserve this.

But sometimes... Even he seemed to hesitate when you pleaded with him, telling him you still believed in him even as he killed you.

Somehow... You knew he could hear you... Or at least your fear...

You figured if you just refused to give up, he would remember and win over the Spectre's hold...

"I saw dad too! He had that look again!" You tried to stomp your feet in the air until Chance hid in a building and let you down finally.

You knew he meant well, seeing as you were a bit slower with your shorter legs. Even your bunny speed can't get you so far...

You looked out carefully, watching the goons scramble to find you with an odd look to them... Like they felt guilty...

It honestly broke your heart. Even though they've killed you several times, you still saw them as family and knew you'd forgive them in a heartbeat. It wasn't their fault the Spectre made them turn against you...

You couldn't help but let out soft squeaks. Nothing like the ones you'd show when you let any of the survivors pet you but more with a sad undertone to it. Chance could only pray to his lady luck that the goons wouldn't hear it as you watched them split to look for the gambler and you.

"Kid, I know you can't control your squeaks but is there a way to muffle them at least?" He whispered nervously, trying not to sound upset.

He knew you just wanted your life back. Everyone did.

But they to focus on the present, as did you.

"Sorry..." You muttered, your squeaks quieting down until they were barely heard. You knew Chance felt bad about it though as he proceeded to lead you to a generator and help you with the puzzle so the generator would be done quicker.

By the time you've finished the round and won with Chance as the last two standing, you felt homesick again.

This time though, the survivors tried to trust you a bit more and went to make the table, simply handing you paper and crayons again so you went off to draw like usual until dinner was ready.

You learned the routine by now. Each 'day' has about 6 to 7 rounds before you were all allowed a longer break to have dinner and sleep.

You would get 10 hours to sleep and clean before it all repeated... It exhausted you mentally- wait...

There was a sudden song outside... A whistling you recognized anyday.

You looked to the other survivors and made sure they were distracted with dinner while you quietly snuck out.

"Sorry..." You whispered whilst slipping through the door to find the source of the whistling. A pit practically formed in your stomach and tears prodded through your eyelids as a lump formed in your throat.

It couldn't be a coincidence... It had to be them...

It was the exact melody they would whistle to help you sleep after a nightmare...

Hmm, should the child join the killers, I wonder~?

Anything you'd like to request/ask? Check out my pinned post first and I'll be happy to write up whatever you want!

[loversrocktvgirl2]

my mini multiverse of madness…

Yes And Apples (Bucky x Reader)

word count: 2.0k+

masterlist

a/n - ugh this is the most comfy bucky fic i’ve ever written, like can this man please just show up in my life and cuddle me i need that shit

You’re Sam Wilson’s childhood best friend. You’re like a random companion that is somehow in his life always, neither of you are sure how. But now that Bucky’s friends with Sam and his roommate, he’s around you a lot. Problem is? He’s catching feelings.

You have a small studio apartment not too far away from the apartment Sam and Bucky share. You also run a local business where you sell books, movies, vinyl, coffee and beer. Unfortunately, your studio apartment is directly above the business building, so from a security standpoint, it’s really not all that safe. Hence, you kind of end up in Sam and Bucky’s apartment a lot, especially if you’re nervous. 

Thankfully, they’ve got a nice apartment, so you don’t feel too bad about sleeping on their pullout couch a few nights a week. Sam prefers it that way (he has to worry about you less) and only the Lord knows Bucky does too. They both worry about you. If Bucky can’t sleep (which is frequent, because insomnia), he’ll go outside and watch an episode of a show with you, enjoying the quiet comfort of your presence. He fell asleep there once, and Sam saw you two, distanced enough that he could tell you weren’t snuggling, but close enough to tell that you had been intentionally spending time together. He teased Bucky about it for a week.  

The unfortunate aspect is that if Bucky so much as lays a finger on you, Sam will find out and possibly kill him. But he still tucks you in on the couch, does the dishes after you make dinner, and stops by your store on his lunch breaks occasionally to “drop off” something, which usually just leads to him asking if you’re staying at him and Sam’s apartment tonight and if he should get you anything while you’re at the store (the answer is always “yes” and “apples”).

Eventually, Sam brought up to Bucky gently about moving into a bigger apartment so that they could get a guest bedroom for you in case you wanted to stay there, to which Bucky replied, “well, why don’t we just buy one of those cute little southern suburban houses and ask her to move in?” Sam was shocked that Bucky was so okay with it, but he wasn’t complaining. Bucky knew from you talking that you loved any house that looked like it could have been in Steel Magnolias. 

So, Bucky went house-shopping with you and Sam after you agreed to move in, and y’all bought the house together and took separate rooms. The house was cheap because of the area it was in, but it was only ten minutes from your business and close enough to the Avengers Tower that Sam and Bucky could get to work easily. Sam likes the house a lot, but he’s also got his own room at the tower, so he often stays there, too. Bucky has a room at the tower, just like Sam, but he never leaves you alone in the house at night. He could never. You’re amazing and he never wants to miss out on a second with you, and he doesn’t like the idea of you sleeping in an otherwise empty house.

You come back home at 10:12 pm. You always leave the store at 10. Bucky is sitting on the couch when you get back. “Hey, Buck, how’s it going?” you ask casually, walking over to the couch and kissing the top of his head. 

Bucky’s heart beats a little faster at the action, but he plays it off, acting nonchalant. “Not bad. Have you eaten dinner yet?”

“Nope,” you inform, putting your tote bag on the barstool chair. 

Bucky gives you a look. “Honey.”

“I was busy, I wasn’t gonna eat,” you shrug. 

Bucky sighs. “Figured as much. You’re eating. C’mon.” He walks over to the kitchen and pulls out a container of eggs. You sigh and join him. Bucky knows what your favorite bagel sandwich is. In fact, there are sliced up bagels in the freezer precisely for that reason. He’s gonna eat too—super soldier appetite, and also, he knows you’d rather not eat by yourself—so he microwaves two bagels, two sausage patties, and mixes some cinnamon and granulated sugar together. You make the scrambled eggs—two eggs each, a little milk, salt, pepper, and maple syrup. Yes, maple syrup in the eggs. Trust me. 

Bucky butters the bagels and puts the cinnamon sugar on it. He puts sausage patties on both sandwiches, and you put on the eggs. He carries the plates to the table, where he’s already got napkins waiting. The two of you sit down together, and you take a bite out of your sandwich. “Damn, I was hungry,” you mutter. 

Bucky shakes his head. “You gotta take care of yourself, sweetheart.”

There is no dramatic moment. Bucky’s never told you that he likes you, and you’ve never told him whether or not you like him. But, you do live together, more than Sam lives with you, too. And late one night, past one am, you tiptoe into his bedroom. Bucky is still somewhat awake, lying silently in bed. “Is something wrong?” He mumbles the question, voice groggy.

“I can’t sleep,” you reply softly.

Bucky nods and raises his arm to lift up his blanket, silently inviting you in. You climb into his bed beside him and fall asleep with his arm draped around you.

In the morning, Bucky pretends to stay asleep until you wake up, not wanting you to wake up in an empty bed. It makes him a little late for work, and Tony teases him about his unusual tardiness, but Bucky will withstand any amount of teasing if it’s for you. Sam doesn’t know why Bucky’s late, and Bucky doesn’t tell him.

About a week later, it happens again. You tiptoe quietly into Bucky’s bedroom, he asks you if you’re alright, and you end up sleeping in his bed again. The next night, you don’t bother asking, and just climb right on in. Bucky likes having you so close, and the action becomes normalized to him for a while, that you come in late at night and sleep in his room. 

Until, that is, when Bucky sees you charging your Apple watch on his nightstand, leaving your pillow on your side of his bed, and leaving your sweatshirt on the chair. You’re basically moving into his room. To be honest, neither of you really knows how it happened, you just understand that this is now where you go to bed. And Bucky is realizing that you have moved yourself in. And that he likes that you did. 

Bucky goes to your store the next day. After you finish up with a customer, he walks up to the desk and says, “Hey, I was wondering if you wanna watch a movie tonight. Oh, and if you need anything when I’m at the grocery store.”

“Yes to movie, and apples,” you smile. “Is Sam staying at the Tower tonight, do we know?”

Bucky shrugs. “Why?”

“Just seeing if we have to factor in his movie preferences. You can just grab a DVD from here,” you gesture toward the rack of DVDs in your store. 

“You got anything you feel like?” Bucky asks. 

“Whatever you pick sounds good.” 

Bucky lingers in front of the movie rack longer than he probably needs to. He reads the backs of three different rom-coms before settling on one that Sam would 100% roll his eyes at, but that he knows you secretly love. He tucks it under his arm, grabs a couple of your favorite chocolate bars from the little snack stand by the register, and gives you a look like he's getting away with something.

“You’re gonna make me cry-watch You’ve Got Mail again, aren’t you?” you say, leaning on the counter.

Bucky shrugs. “If you do, I’ll pretend not to notice.”

You grin at him, warm and unguarded, and Bucky has to take a second to process it before he answers. “You’ve Got Mail it is.”

Later, back at the house, you sit curled up on your usual corner of the couch with your legs tucked under you, munching on apple slices while Bucky fiddles with the remote. Sam’s already texted the group chat to say he’s crashing at the Tower tonight. (“Don’t wait up. Also, don’t steal my Oreos again.”) You and Bucky both ignore the last part.

About halfway through the movie, you shift closer. Bucky doesn’t move, doesn’t breathe, until your head finds its way to his shoulder and your hand settles gently on his knee.

“I like this,” you murmur, voice a little drowsy.

“The movie?” he asks.

You shake your head. “No. This.”

He swallows hard. “Yeah. Me too.”

He doesn’t say more. He doesn’t have to. Your presence is comfort enough. Later, when you both climb into his bed without a word, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, Bucky knows one thing for sure:

You’ve moved in. Not just into his room.

But into him.

You crawl into bed with Bucky again that night. It’s the same as always now, and you fall asleep pretty easily. 

Sam unexpectedly comes back home—after a very late night at the Tower, he decided that he would rather sleep in his room back here with you two. He pops his head into Bucky’s room to let him know he’s home. “Hey, Buck, I— what.” 

Sam stops and stares. You’re tucked into Bucky’s side with your head half on your pillow and half on his chest. Sam looks around the room and sees your Apple watch charger, your phone charger, your sweatshirt, sunglasses, even your lemonade sitting on a coaster on the nightstand. Bucky is still awake and wide eyed now, unsure how he’s going to explain this to Sam. 

“Are y’all dating?” Sam asks accusingly, keeping his voice down enough so as not to wake you. 

“I don’t think so…?” Bucky replies. 

Sam rolls his eyes. “This looks like she lives in here.”

“Yeah, well… she kinda does.” 

Sam snorts. “You should tell her, Buck.”

“Yeah, I know.”

It’s raining the next morning, and the world feels quieter than usual—slowed down and softened by the overcast sky. You’re sitting at the kitchen table in one of Bucky’s T-shirts, legs curled up under you, sipping coffee and reading a worn paperback. Bucky’s at the stove, flipping pancakes, because you’d sleepily mumbled something about them before crawling out of bed, and he takes your cravings very seriously.

He watches you from the corner of his eye. You're home here—completely, comfortably home. And maybe Sam's right. Maybe you do deserve to know that this isn’t just about pancakes and movie nights and Apple watch chargers. Maybe you deserve more than "almost."

“Hey,” Bucky says softly, setting a plate down in front of you.

You glance up and smile. “Hi.”

He doesn’t sit right away. Just stands beside your chair for a second, rubbing the back of his neck. “Can I say something kinda stupid?”

You raise a brow. “Always.”

He takes a deep breath. “I think… I think I’ve been accidentally dating you. For a while. Without ever telling you.”

You blink. “Accidentally?”

Bucky shrugs, sheepish. “I mean. You live in my room. You fall asleep next to me every night. You make your eggs weird and I still like ’em. I think that counts for something.”

You set your book down slowly, eyes soft. “So what are you saying?”

“I’m saying,” he starts, then stops, trying again with a quiet laugh, “I wanna stop pretending I don’t love every second of being yours. And if you want that too… I’d really like to officially call this something.”

You smile at him then, a little shy, but your heart is already wide open.

You reach for your fork, poke a bite of pancake, and say, “Okay.”

“Okay?” Bucky echoes.

You nod. “Yes.”

He looks at you for a moment, like he’s trying to memorize every inch of this one, quiet, perfect moment. Then, he grins. “Okay. Yes.”

You chew your bite of pancake, then pause, tilting your head at him with a mock-serious expression.

“But I do have one condition.”

Bucky leans on the table, eyebrows raised. “Yeah?”

You point at your plate. “Keep making me breakfast. And when you ask if I need anything…”

His smile deepens, eyes crinkling. “Lemme guess. Apples?”

You grin. “Yes. And apples.”

taglist @spaceycat @vidanand @xo-cench @raikan624 @yeehawgiddyup13 @wpdarlingpan @puer-aurea

[wxsteriawishes]

the lads men finding you again in this life. . . but you're already with someone else (angst version) what who said that

post-writing clarity: written while listening to the Dear Hongrang OST, very much set the mood. i recommend! most songs are instrumental.

go back to masterlist

content: mentions of death, mentions of toxic behavior/abuse, use of indecent language/swearing, use of pet names (pips)

caleb

bonus points: imagine zayne is "the other guy" in caleb's story

he'd immediately try sabotaging the two of you. over and over again, using his status and evol to his benefit and that asshole's detriment. he'd play the perfect older brother, you'd come crying to him each time something went wrong. each time an issue popped up. caleb wouldn't let him enter the house, wouldn't let him explain or apologize. he'd let the miscommunications fester. when you find out how much caleb had been meddling, you're furious, you're outraged -- you feel betrayed. he had already lied about his death, now this?initially, he's firm and stubborn. he won't let go of you. "can't you see how much better i could treat you?" maybe if you were single, he'd let you be. but you acted as if you were in love with that other guy, like you might marry him. spend your whole life with him? he can't have that, now, can he? no, that wouldn't do. he locks you up, hides you away from the rest of the world. you didn't even get to say goodbye, you had screamed at him once. he didn't care. you missed your lover, you never quite had the courage to confess. he could tell anyway. he didn't relent. "i know you, pips! he'll never know you like i do." you don't know for sure what happened to your partner ex. you get hints. caleb tells you he took care of him. you didn't have to guess at what that meant. the important part was that you'd never be able to see him again. it broke you apart. you stopped speaking, ate less, never laughed. your smiles were only half-hearted. you had trouble sleeping. it takes a while, but he eventually takes a step back. he sees you fading away, missing the man you used to be with, the one you really loved. you're just a shell of the bright, loving, confident woman you used to be. you don't even look at him anymore. he'd broken your trust. he was too intense, too possessive, too much. he lets you go. you don't look back. instead of your partner's loving arms, you come home to a tombstone and a death certificate. even though you eventually forgive caleb, you can't find it within yourself to love him back the way he's always loved you. he's killed (backstabbed) by one of his colleagues a few years later, eternally distracted by thoughts of you. people think he died without a lover. but he loved you to his grave, even when you didn't love him back. even when you had another in your own heart.

rafayel

bonus points: imagine sylus is "the other guy" in rafayel's story

he ignores you. initially, he wants to shout at you. he wants to grab you by the shoulders and shake until you remember him again, remember what you did to him, what the two of you had. he sees your eyes scanning the crowd and missing him. you didn't recognize him, you weren't even looking for him. he watches your lover lean down and plant a kiss on your lips, startling you. rafayel watches you blush and turns to leave. fine. if you were happy without him, who was he to object? the second time you meet, it's at one of rafayel's art exhibitions. he's mingling with the other guests. he's charming, captivating, unforgettable, everything a world-renowned artist like him should be. he's startled when you suddenly appear behind him. you introduce yourself and he turns around with his usual flirtatious gaze. he meets your sparkling eyes and, for a moment, he can't speak. why were you here? maybe you had finally remembered something-- but you only ask him for a favor. he pretends to be skeptical, when he was truly curious. he thought you might ask about lemuria. or at the very least, just be a fan of his work, wanting to meet him. but when he hears your favor. . . he laughs. hard. it sounds bitter, even to him. oh, you were audacious. who did you think you were? he wanted to say no, to just walk away, so badly. he was one of the best, for god's sake. he could afford to be an asshole this far in his career. but that would be cruel and unfair to you. you did not remember him, for whatever reason, and he couldn't expect anything from you. and, perhaps, he also just couldn't refuse you, no matter how hard he tried. like he was under your spell. thomas was right behind you. please say yes, his eyes seemed to be screaming at rafayel. so he does. only a few months later, he's dressed in soft pastels, blending in with the venue. he's sitting in the very front, a little off to the side, brush in hand. he paints. the life, the weather, the people. part of him feels like he's wasting his pigment on this. he's finally done when he hears you, "i do," voice full of emotion. rafayel watches the ring get pushed on your finger. he looks away. packs up his stuff, waits at the back, leaves before the afterparties. drowns himself in his work. years pass and people notice something had changed in his work. like something was missing. his fame and wealth skyrocketed. he had everything he could want. and most of all, he was happy. he didn't need you.

sylus

bonus points: imagine xavier is "the other guy" in sylus' story

he stalks you. he'd never call it that though. he was simply keeping an eye on you, to make sure you were safe. he has cameras set near your apartment building. when you go out, he usually sends luke and kieran, not willing to trust any of his mindless lackeys to ensure your safety. he has mephisto on the job when you're on a mission and you're trying to lay low. that's how he finds out you're with someone, another hunter. someone he had seen you spending time with at home and at work. instead of backing away, he keeps an even closer eye on you. what exactly had you two done? how far had you let him go? he kept catching his evol out of control, ready to strangle the man who dared touch you. he wouldn't believe you were in love with another. not when his soul was tied to yours. when you go on a sort of solo mission to find the leader of Onychinus, he sees his chance. he tries to get you to remember, he tries to resonate with you, he tries near everything he can think of. nothing works. no, he's only made things worse. you leave to go back to linkon city and he felt himself going insane. how had you forgotten everything? when it was you that tied your fate to his and cursed him. you, who doomed him to only be yours, when you couldn't even remember who he was to you now. on his better days, he has hope. he trusts that you'll make your way back to him. but on his worse days, he pays you a visit. he appears in your vicinity, scares the living hell out of you, and he wants to demand answers. but you hated him. you could only see him as the murderer of your foster grandmother and brother. he disgusted you, how could you love him with that fear, that betrayal in your eyes? one time, he appeared in your room while you were in his arms, the two of you in your bed. he went crazy. he lunged, aiming to kill. he almost did, but he caught sight of your eyes again. horror. pleading. tears. you call him a monster. his gaze dropped to his hands, strangling an innocent throat, black and crimson tendrils of smoke clouding his vision. you were in the corner of the room, looking like you wanted to disappear. sylus' grip loosened. he wanted to disappear. he stands up. takes a step back. he vanishes from the room. you never see him again.

xavier

bonus points: rafayel is "the other guy" in xavier's story

he'd introduce himself. he'd make his presence known each time he walked past your desk at work, past your door at home. he'd bring you home-baked muffins, to welcome you to the neighborhood. you're shocked by the acidic taste in the dough, but his aloof nature is charming. he leaves quite the impression on you. you become friends -- going on missions together, hanging out at his place on the weekends sometimes, having a drink together after a particularly intense fight. he's happy. he's friendly, he's sweet, he's respectful. he's such a gentleman, and honestly, a little bit of a flirt. he knows you don't remember anything. but he doesn't mind. it was more than perfect like this. he didn't have enough time to be nitpicking over the finer details. then you decide you want him to meet your fiancé. he had recently come back from a five-month-long world tour, you were saying, and you just had to introduce him to xavier. of course. xavier never did ask if you were single. he thought his feelings were obvious. he thought you two were on the same page. he forgot you didn't remember the things he did. you didn't catch the little inside jokes he made in reference to your past. and now, he was about to come face-to-face with your lover. fine, he'll be the judge of it. and when they met in person, xavier was livid. it would've been easier if he were horrible. but he wasn't. your fiancé was the whole package: deathly handsome, world-famous, wealthier than one could imagine, and most of all, he had left quite the impression on you too. only he had gotten to you first. xavier didn't ever smile at him, never spoke directly to him, always seething beneath the surface. the worst part was he was so good to you. he was so kind to you. xavier couldn't ignore that, no matter how much he wanted to believe otherwise. you invited xavier to your wedding. he still tried to make you see him as the better choice. he could fight, he could protect you, he would never forsake you. but you couldn't turn your head from your husband, your heart couldn't stop loving the passionate, flirtatious, loving man you were already tied to. he could feel how distant you were getting already. he could feel the friendship hanging on by a thread. he had a choice: he could try and save it, savor what little interactions he had with you, or go off the grid again. he never got to make the choice. his body was so tired and he already had such little time. he should've noticed the signs, without your love and comfort, all alone again, the stress, the solitude, it was all getting to him. then, one night, you found yourself dressed in black, hand-in-hand with your husband. you were told it was painless, in the middle of the night. you were grateful. you never knew how deep his feelings went for you.

zayne

bonus points: imagine caleb is "the other guy" in zayne's story

he'd keep his distance. at first, he couldn't believe it. it was you. you were the girl in his dreams. the woman formed from fragments of his mind. it had been years since you two had last spoke. but that was before the nightmares started, when he began to think there was something wrong with him. but like a fairytale come to life, he saw you. your eyes, your smile, your everything -- you were divine. his drink was untouched as he stared out the window, into the town square. he needed to speak to you. he thought he was crazy, having nightmares of killing a wife he never even met. but there you stood, laughing as you were grabbed by the waist, kissed until you ran out of breath. his heart dropped. you looked so happy. all hopes of talking to you vanished. he wouldn't cross that line. he got up and left the café immediately. it wasn't his place, to try to speak of such an intimate matter to a taken woman. how could he ruin that for you? he wouldn't. but, maybe. . . he'd make sure to be assigned to you as your primary physician. he'd get to know you in a professional setting, in a respectful manner. just for his own sake. when you had problems with your boyfriend, he'd comfort you. give you advice, sometimes as a doctor, sometimes as a friend. he kept his eye on you to make sure you were never hurt. he couldn't help himself, he couldn't completely stay away. how could he? but he never pushed it. he never flirted with you. even when he might've felt like you were attracted to him too. you had been in your relationship for years, why would you risk that for him? he never explicitly expressed his feelings to you, never wanting you to feel pressured to return them. there were boundaries he wouldn't cross. you weren't his, for god's sake, no matter how much he'd wished otherwise. but he kept telling himself if things didn't work out between you and that guy, he'd try his own luck. two years later, he was attending your wedding. he watched you exchange your vows, eyes sparkling, skin glowing, like you were made of gems. he was so happy for you. he moved towns. kept having nightmares of your lifeless body, dying at his scarred hands.

[bittenbyenhypen]

message received (n.rk)

the message said it was urgent — but i never expected it to be him.

pairing: childhood friend!ni-ki (nishimura riki) x afab!reader (y/n)

wc: 7.4k

genre: smut = minors dni!

cw: babysitting!au, slight dubcon/noncon, manipulation/deception, “fake” texts, childhood friends, unseen desire, p in v, CNC, restraint, obsession, possessive behavior, explicit smut, overstimulation, creampie, dirty talk, corruption kink, degradation, light choking.

a/n: lowercase intentional // smut under the cut

this is a work of fiction. all characters, events, and situations are entirely fictional and created for storytelling purposes only. reader discretion is advised.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

i was halfway through washing my hair when my music silenced and my phone buzzed.

mrs. mura ⊹₊⟡⋆ | 10:02pm

emergency. can you watch the kids tonight? door’s unlocked — just come in. thank you, sweet girl.

i frowned. something about it felt weird. no emojis, no “thank you!! you’re a lifesaver 🤍” like she usually sent. i even opened our old thread and scrolled — yeah, this felt off. but maybe she was just stressed. traveling always made her anxious.

i texted back promptly~

me | 10:03pm

sure, everything okay?

no response.

weird. i could’ve sworn she told me they were going out of town this weekend. something about a beach wedding. but maybe plans changed. and besides… i wasn’t going to say no to her. she’d trusted me with her kids since i was fourteen.

i pulled on a hoodie and some sleep shorts, tied my hair up, grabbed my keys.

the whole drive over, something felt off.

i’ve known the nishimuras for as long as i can remember. their house was like a second home when i was growing up — warm, loud, always smelling like home-cooked food. riki was the middle child, a year older than me, sharp-tongued and always teasing, but never unkind. we went to school together, shared holiday dinners, fought over the remote like siblings. his mom trusted me, always had. when she and mr. nishimura started traveling more for work, she asked if i’d help out — watch the kids, water the plants, keep the house from falling apart while they were away. i said yes without thinking.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

the street was quiet when i pulled into their driveway. no lights on inside. the house looked completely empty. the familiar weight of it settled on my shoulders — the porch swing, the faded welcome mat, the potted plants that always died when i forgot to water them.

i hesitated on the step. reaching for the door handle and gently twisting the knob.

“hello?” i called softly. “mrs. nishimura?”

silence.

the house was warm. not cold like an empty place usually is. too warm, like someone had been here just moments ago. i shut the door behind me, toes curling inside my shoes.

“kids?” i asked again, stepping further inside. “hello?”

i expected toys scattered on the floor. maybe a TV left on. instead, i found a clean living room, lights dimmed low. the kitchen sink was empty. the hallway smelled faintly like cologne — sharp, masculine.

i walked slower.

then i heard it. a footstep on the second floor.

my heart jumped. i turned toward the stairs, calling up, “is someone there?”

no answer.

more steps. slow. deliberate. coming down.

i backed up slightly, heart pounding, fingers gripping my phone in my pocket.

“hello—?”

and then i saw him.

riki.

barefoot. sweats hanging low on his hips. shirtless. his hair was messy, like he’d just gotten out of bed.

my mouth went dry. “riki…?”

he smirked, slow and unbothered, one hand running through his hair.

“hey, y/n.”

my brows pulled. “what—i thought your mom—?”

“she’s out of town,” he said simply. “left yesterday.”

i stared. “so the text…”

he shrugged. “guess my mom forgot she linked her number to multiple devices…”

my blood ran cold and hot all at once. “you sent it?”

his smile spread.

something in his gaze had changed — deeper, slower, more deliberate. like he wasn’t just happy to see me… like he planned this. like he was waiting for it.

i stepped back without meaning to. just once. barely noticeable. but he caught it.

“you look nervous,” riki said.

i laughed, tight and breathless. “well… you did just lure me here with your mom’s number.”

he tilted his head. “lure is such a loaded word.”

i didn’t answer. i couldn’t. my throat felt dry. everything in me buzzed — not in fear exactly, but in a strange, aching heat that started low in my stomach and coiled upward.

his eyes dropped down my body, slow.

“you still wear that perfume,” he murmured.

i blinked. “what?”

he stepped closer — not touching me, just close enough that i could feel the heat coming off his bare chest.

“the one you used to wear in high school. the one that used to drive me crazy.”

i swallowed hard. “you remember that?”

“i remember everything.”

his fingers brushed mine. gentle. testing.

i didn’t pull away.

“you look different,” he said. “grown up.”

i tried to keep my voice steady. “so do you.”

he smiled. “yeah?”

“yeah.”

i couldn’t look away from him. the soft light from the hallway caught his collarbone, the sharp line of his jaw. he looked older, harder. like a boy who’d been told “no” too many times and learned how to take “yes” by force.

he stepped around me slowly, walking into the kitchen. i followed without thinking.

he opened the fridge, pulled out a bottle of water, cracked the cap and drank. his throat bobbed with every swallow, and for some godforsaken reason, my mouth went dry again.

when he turned, he leaned against the counter and stared at me.

“you ever think about me?”

my stomach flipped. “what?”

“when i left.” he licked a drop of water from his lip. “did you think about me?”

“we were friends, riki. of course i—”

“not like that.”

his voice dropped a note lower.

i froze.

he smiled, soft but dangerous.

“i did.”

he took another step toward me. slow. calculated.

“i thought about you all the time. every time i came home for break. every time you’d wave from across the bakery when i came in with my mom. every time you hugged me goodbye like it didn’t burn me to let go.”

i couldn’t breathe.

“but you were always so good,” he said, voice warm and cruel at the same time. “so sweet. my mom’s favorite little helper. everyone’s innocent y/n.”

he brushed a strand of hair behind my ear.

“i wanted to see how innocent you still were.”

my whole body shivered.

he leaned in, lips just grazing the shell of my ear.

“i still can’t decide,” he whispered. “if i want to fuck the sweetness out of you… or if i want to see how long you’ll pretend you don’t want me to.”

my instincts screamed to turn and leave. this was insane. creepy. not okay.

but my legs didn’t move. and my skin—traitorously—lit up under his gaze.

riki leaned in, his breath hot against my ear. “but i know you, y/n. i know you’ve wanted this for a long time.”

his fingers graced my skin under the hem of my shorts, quickly retreating, teasing.

“you’ve wanted me to take it.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

he didn’t touch me after that.

not right away.

he just stood there in the kitchen, drinking from his water bottle like he hadn’t just cracked something open inside me.

“you remember the camping trip?” he asked suddenly.

i blinked. “which one?”

“the one when you were, like… sixteen. we all went upstate with both our families. shared that weird old cabin.”

i nodded slowly. “yeah. why?”

he smiled. “you had that stupid unicorn pajama set. with the glitter on the pants.”

i flushed. “god, shut up. i loved those.”

“i know. you wore them every night. even when it was hot.”

he took a step closer again. the countertop was behind me now. i couldn’t step back.

“i used to stay up late just to watch you walk to the bathroom.”

my breath caught.

he tilted his head, pretending to think. “do you know how many nights i’d fake sleep? just to hear you pad across the floor? that tiny waistband riding up your hips—”

“riki—”

“you had no clue,” he said, voice low, amused. “you were so… untouched.”

his hand came to rest beside me on the counter. not touching. not yet.

“and then last summer,” he continued. “my mom’s birthday. remember?”

i nodded slowly. “you came back into town for the weekend.”

he smiled. “and you wore that little black dress. tight. short. i swear to god, you wore it just to torture me.”

i swallowed. “you barely looked at me that night.”

“exactly,” he said. “because if i did, i was gonna take you upstairs and fuck you during the cake cutting.”

my knees nearly buckled.

“you think i didn’t notice,” he whispered, leaning in. “how you kept watching me over your glass. how your thighs were pressed together under the table.”

“you’re imagining things.”

he laughed softly. “am i?”

his eyes dropped to my lips. then my neck. then lower.

“you don’t remember coming outside after everyone went to sleep?” he asked. “when you thought nobody was awake?”

my breath hitched.

oh.

“you sat on the porch swing,” he said. “bare legs. no bra. just that dress and a glass of wine. i watched you from my bedroom window, y/n.”

he leaned in closer, breath grazing my mouth.

“i fucking fisted my cock to the sight of you that night.”

i choked.

“you want to pretend you didn’t want this,” he whispered. “but you’ve been playing this game just as long as i have.”

he still didn’t touch me.

he didn’t have to.

his voice alone had my body betraying me — heat pooling between my thighs, chest heaving, skin flushed.

“you came here tonight,” he said, finally letting his fingers brush mine. “you could’ve called. could’ve double checked. but you didn’t. you wanted to walk into something you couldn’t undo.”

his hand grazed my hip.

“so now you’re here.”

his mouth hovered over mine, not kissing. not closing that final space.

“and i’m gonna make you beg.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

he didn’t steer me toward the stairs this time.

instead, he walked straight into the living room, barefoot and calm, like we were about to watch a movie. like he hadn’t just whispered years of filth into my ear and left me soaked.

i hesitated near the hallway, but he glanced back and crooked a finger.

“come here.”

i should’ve walked out the front door.

instead, i followed him like i always did — too curious, too hot in my own skin to resist. he flopped down on the couch, the same one we used to crash on after school, the same one we fell asleep on during horror movie marathons. i used to tuck my legs under his without thinking.

now he patted the cushion beside him like a dare.

“sit,” he said. “let’s catch up.”

my legs moved before my brain did. i sat.

too close.

not close enough.

the tv remote sat on the coffee table. his phone, too. black hoodie slung over the back of the couch. normal things. domestic things. the air between us felt anything but.

“so,” riki said, resting his arm across the back of the couch, fingers inches from my shoulder. “what’ve you been up to?”

i turned to look at him. he was already staring.

hard.

like i was something he was trying not to bite into too soon.

“really?” i asked. “you want small talk now?”

he smiled, slow. “humor me.”

“you lured me here, riki. not exactly a casual catch-up.”

“mm,” he hummed, shifting so his thigh pressed against mine. “maybe i just missed you.”

“bullshit.”

he leaned in, breath brushing my cheek.

“you’re right,” he murmured. “i didn’t miss you. i craved you.”

his fingers traced lightly over the curve of my knee. not enough to be considered touching. just enough to make my skin burn.

“you used to curl up right here,” he whispered, brushing my hair back. “head on my shoulder. remember that?”

i nodded.

“you always smelled like vanilla and bookstore paperbacks,” he said. “drove me fucking insane.”

“you never said anything.”

“of course not,” he chuckled. “you were still pretending you didn’t know.”

i swallowed.

his fingers finally grazed the inside of my thigh.

“but you did know,” he said. “didn’t you?”

i didn’t answer.

he leaned closer.

“the time you laid across my lap during that movie night. you weren’t wearing a bra.”

my pulse jumped.

“and you kept stretching, yawning, arching your back like you wanted me to see.”

i shook my head, whispering, “i didn’t—”

“you did,” he said firmly, fingers pressing into my thigh now. “you wanted me to see how soft you were. how easy.”

i bit my lip.

“say it,” he murmured. “say you liked teasing me.”

i couldn’t.

he reached for the throw blanket behind me — the same one we used to share. he unfolded it slowly and laid it across my lap, tucking it around my waist.

his hand slipped under it. rested on my bare thigh.

“say it,” he repeated, voice lower. “or i’ll make you sit here, legs open, while i rub your clit and tell you every single thing i imagined doing to you.”

my eyes fluttered shut.

“i liked it,” i whispered. “i liked teasing you.”

“good girl.”

his fingers slid higher, just barely grazing my soaked panties through the blanket.

“you wanna make this dirty, baby?” he whispered. “let’s make it dirty. right here. on the couch your mom watched movies with mine. on the cushions that still smell like childhood.”

i whimpered.

“let me show you what i thought about every night i slept down here,” he said, hand pressing harder.

“and then maybe…”

he leaned in close — lips brushing mine but not kissing.

“…i’ll let you earn what you came here for.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

his hand stayed under the blanket.

still.

warm.

too high on my thigh to be innocent.

but he didn’t move. not yet.

he just looked at me — really looked — like he was memorizing the exact moment my breathing started to change.

“you’re letting me touch you,” he said softly. “after all that. after i lied to you. tricked you. dragged you here.”

i swallowed. “you’re not touching me.”

his mouth twitched.

“not yet.”

he shifted slightly, his thigh pressing harder into mine.

“but you didn’t pull away,” he murmured. “you came in. you sat next to me. you’re letting me talk to you like this.”

his fingers barely traced higher, slipping under the hem of my shorts. skin to skin.

“you want to pretend you’re still a good girl?” he asked. “still the sweet little helper my mom trusted?”

his voice dropped.

“sweethearts don’t get wet when their childhood friend talks about stealing their underwear.”

my breath hitched.

“they don’t sit on the couch they used to nap on and let a man they used to trust talk about how many times he’s imagined fucking them in their sleep.”

he pressed his fingers higher. just barely brushing over where i wanted him.

i gasped.

his eyes stayed locked on mine.

“you were always so perfect around my family,” he whispered. “so polite. so helpful. but you were hiding something. i saw it. you think i didn’t notice the way your thighs would rub together when i was near you?”

i tried to shake my head, but he grabbed my chin.

“don’t lie.”

he forced my gaze to stay on his.

“you thought about it too,” he said. “being on your knees in this house. on this floor. while they slept upstairs.”

his thumb dragged across my bottom lip.

“you’ve always wanted someone to ruin you, haven’t you?”

i whimpered.

“someone who already knows you. someone who’s seen the cute, safe version of you… and wants the one underneath.”

his hand slipped further between my legs — not pushing, not teasing, just claiming the space.

i was trembling.

“if i started touching you now,” he whispered, “i wouldn’t stop. not even if you begged.”

i gasped.

his hand stilled.

“unless you wanted me to,” he added, tone lower now. “unless that’s what makes you wet.”

i blinked at him, lips parted.

“is that it?” he asked. “you like the idea of being used by someone who remembers your bedtime stories?”

he leaned in close. too close.

“you want to be nothing but a hole for me,” he whispered. “in the house where your mom thinks you’re safe.”

i let out a broken breath. “riki…”

“you like the way that sounds,” he said. “i can see it in your fucking eyes.”

his hand finally slid against the soaked cotton of my panties. slow. steady.

i moaned — quietly, desperately.

he smiled like he’d just won.

“we haven’t even started,” he said, voice low and dark. “and you’re already soaking my hand.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

his fingers didn’t move.

they just sat there, heavy on my soaked panties under the blanket, like he wasn’t even aware of what he was doing. like he could play this game all night and never break a sweat.

i was the one sweating.

shaking.

aching.

“do you know what i want from you?” he murmured, voice dark and unhurried. “really?”

i shook my head, too breathless to lie.

his hand flexed just slightly. not enough to satisfy. just enough to tease.

“i want to ruin every version of you they think they know.”

he leaned in again, breath hot on my neck.

“i want them to look at you and never guess what you let me do on this couch.”

i gasped.

he smirked.

“you like that, don’t you?”

“n-no—”

“you want to sit at sunday dinner with my mom, with my little brother asking if you baked those cookies again, and know you’re still sore from the night before.”

my whole body twitched.

“fuck,” he whispered, “i could make you wear a plug under that cute dress. have you shaking through the entire meal.”

“riki—”

“shhh,” he said, pressing a finger to my lips. “i’m not done.”

his tone dropped lower. colder.

“i could take you right now. here. make you strip while i sit back and watch. give you orders like you’re nothing but a fuckdoll for me.”

i whimpered.

“but you don’t get that yet,” he said, pulling back slightly, just to watch the way my thighs clenched. “not until you earn it.”

he shifted, letting his hand trail down slowly, dragging heat across my skin — only to stop again.

“i want to know how far you’ll go to be mine.”

i swallowed hard. “how far…?”

he tilted his head.

“would you beg in front of a camera?” he asked. “say my name like a prayer while i make you come so hard you cry?”

i whimpered.

“would you wear a collar if i told you to?” he asked. “crawl to me on hands and knees in the middle of the night?”

“riki—”

he grinned. sharp. knowing.

“or do you need me to show you what kind of girl you are?”

my thighs trembled. heat coiled in my stomach, low and tight.

“no one’s touched you like this before,” he murmured. “not really. not the way i will.”

he leaned in again — his mouth brushing the shell of my ear.

“no one’s ever trained you, have they?”

i gasped.

“you’ve just been waiting,” he said, “for someone to take it.”

he kissed just beneath my jaw. a single soft press of his mouth, like a promise.

“but not yet.”

his voice turned to gravel.

“you’ll beg first.”

then he stood.

left me there trembling.

still untouched. still soaked. still waiting.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

he just stood there, staring at me — the way you stare at something fragile you’ve already decided to break.

“stand up,” he said.

i hesitated. my legs shook when i obeyed.

he took a slow step forward. then another.

until the blanket fell from my lap and i was standing there in nothing but my tiny shorts and a trembling heartbeat.

his fingers found the waistband. soft. almost gentle.

“you ever been touched here?” he asked, voice low, cruelly tender.

i swallowed hard. “no.”

he nodded. like he already knew. like he’d known for years.

“fucking pathetic,” he whispered. “you let everyone think you’re so put together. so smart. so sweet.”

his fingers slipped beneath the band of my shorts, dragging them down my thighs. my panties went with them.

“but underneath all that?”

he looked up at me, eyes dark.

“you’re just a little untouched mess waiting for someone to claim it.”

i gasped — half in shock, half in heat. i couldn’t stop trembling.

his hand came up. cupped me.

bare.

skin to skin.

i whimpered.

“fuck,” he hissed, thumb sliding through the slickness. “so wet and i haven’t even fucked you yet.”

my hands curled into fists at my sides.

he pressed his fingers lower. testing my entrance. slow, cruel pressure without easing in.

“tight little virgin hole,” he muttered. “bet no one’s even dared to look at it.”

i blinked up at him, shivering.

“you saved this for me,” he whispered. “didn’t you?”

i shook my head.

“don’t lie,” he growled, suddenly grabbing my jaw. “no one else has touched it. no one else will.”

his thumb rolled over my clit and i gasped.

“you think i’m gonna be gentle with you?” he asked, voice low. “think i’m gonna lay you down sweet and soft?”

his other hand slipped behind me, grabbed a fistful of my ass, and pulled me closer.

“nah,” he said. “i’m gonna make it hurt.”

i moaned before i could stop myself.

“yeah,” he smirked. “i’m gonna make you cry and cum at the same time.”

his fingers slid deeper — slow, spreading, forcing me to take every inch.

“you’ll remember this every time you sit down,” he murmured. “every time you walk. every time someone thinks about getting close to you.”

i sobbed his name.

“they won’t matter,” he added. “they’ll never have what i just took.”

his hand worked faster now. rough. greedy. relentless.

“gonna stretch you open,” he panted. “get you ready for me. make you drip down my fingers until you’re begging to be bred.”

my knees buckled.

he caught me.

held me there.

“that’s right,” he whispered. “take it. just like a good little virgin should.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

he pushed me back onto the couch.

ripped my hoodie off. “no bra,” he smirked. “fuck, you wanted this.”

he shoved me onto the cushions, spread my legs, knelt between them like he was worshiping me.

and then his mouth was on me.

i screamed. his tongue worked me open, licking up everything, lips sealing around my clit. he moaned into me, like my taste was divine.

“stay still,” he growled when i tried to wriggle away. “you’re gonna cum on my tongue, and then i’m gonna fuck you so deep you forget your own name.”

“riki—” i sobbed. “i—fuck—i can’t—”

“you can.” he gripped my thighs, hard enough to bruise. “you will.”

he didn’t stop. didn’t let up. tongue flicking, curling, punishing.

i shattered. back arched. toes curled. cried out so loud the windows could’ve cracked.

and still—he didn’t stop.

“no more,” i whimpered, thighs shaking. “too much—”

“you think i care?” his voice was wicked, deep. “you tricked me for years. made me wait while you pretended we were just friends.”

his fingers slipped inside me, two at once, stretching me while his thumb teased my clit again.

“you don’t get to say no now.”

i whined. squirmed. came again.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

he didn’t give me a second to catch my breath.

riki stood up, yanked his sweats down in one swift motion, and stroked his cock once—long, thick, already dripping with slick pre-cum. my breath hitched at the sight.

“i should tie you up,” he muttered darkly, eyes burning with hunger. “fuck you with your hands behind your back so you finally understand what you’re mine for.”

i blinked up at him, dizzy and overwhelmed.

without warning, he grabbed my wrists, yanked the hoodie’s drawstring free, and wrapped it tight and rough around them, pulling me close enough to feel every rough edge of his touch.

“riki—”

“shut up.” his voice was cold, commanding.

he pushed me down to my knees and forced me to look up at him, that raw intensity swallowing me whole.

“open your mouth.”

i obeyed, heart pounding so loud i thought he’d hear it.

he slid his cock between my lips—deep, slow, testing me like i was fragile glass breaking under his touch.

“fuck, you’re so fucking pretty like this,” he groaned, voice thick with possessive need. “on your knees. drooling all over me. my virgin, finally mine.”

he fucked my mouth with slow precision, then faster, then slow again, watching my eyes water, watching me choke on him.

“you wanted this, didn’t you?” he whispered, thumb brushing away my tears. “wanted me to fuck that tight, untouched pussy of yours.”

i couldn’t find my voice.

he pulled out, saliva trailing between us, and roughly shoved me back onto the couch.

then, with no mercy, he pushed inside me—my first time—one brutal, deep thrust that stole my breath.

i screamed, nails digging into his back.

“tight as i fucking dreamed,” he growled, hips pistoning hard and deep. “made for me, virgin just for me.”

i sobbed his name, raw and desperate, as he fucked me relentlessly, my hands still bound, my body completely his.

“you’re mine,” he groaned against my ear. “all mine.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

my body clenched tight around him, every thrust sending jolts of fire through me. i was so fucking full, every inch of him claiming what was mine to give—and what he damn well wanted to take.

“you feel so fucking good,” riki growled, voice rough and low, like a predator savoring his prey. “virgin pussy all wrapped around me, soaking wet for only me.”

i whimpered, the shame and need twisting inside me like a live wire.

“you gonna cry for me, baby?” he taunted, hips snapping hard, cock deep and relentless.

“yes,” i gasped, fingers digging into the couch cushions. “riki, please—”

“that’s right,” he said, voice dripping with satisfaction. “cry for me, beg for me. you belong to me now.”

his hands slid under my thighs, lifting me higher as he fucked me harder, faster. my legs shook around his waist, breath ragged.

“i’m gonna fill you up,” he promised, voice dark and filthy. “make you mine in every way.”

he leaned down, mouth crushing mine, tongue forcing itself into my mouth, tasting me—claiming me.

“say it,” he demanded between kisses, “say you’re mine. say you’re my virgin to break.”

“i’m yours,” i choked out, tears mixing with sweat. “all yours.”

“fuck, yeah,” he groaned, thrusting deeper, harder. “you’re such a good girl. taking me so well.”

i lost myself in the heat of him, in the filthy words, in the cruel deliciousness of being his completely.

when he came—growling my name like a fucking mantra—it was like i exploded with him, every nerve ending lit on fire, every scream swallowed by his mouth against mine.

he collapsed on top of me, chest heaving, hands still gripping my hips possessively.

“mine,” he rasped, voice thick with satisfaction. “all mine.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

my body was still twitching when he pulled out — slow, deliberate — like he was savoring every second of ruining me.

his cum dripped out of me, warm and messy between my legs. i whimpered, trying to close my thighs, but he slapped the inside of one with a sharp flick of his fingers.

“don’t you fucking dare,” he said, voice low and dangerous. “i want to see it.”

his eyes dragged down between my legs, devouring the mess he left behind.

“look at you,” he murmured, thumb brushing my swollen clit, making me jolt. “fucking ruined. dripping. open.”

i squirmed, still tied, wrists raw and aching.

he leaned in, voice like velvet over a knife’s edge.

“i want to see how many times you can cum before you start crying again.”

“riki—” i gasped, but it was no use.

he was already between my legs again, licking up the mess he left inside me, tongue hot and unrelenting.

“tasted sweet before,” he said darkly, “but now? now it tastes like mine.”

his mouth latched onto my clit, and i sobbed. it was too much. too raw.

“gonna teach this little pussy what it’s for,” he growled. “not for you. not for anyone else. just for me to use. to stretch. to fill.”

“riki, i—please—”

“you think begging’s gonna save you?” he smirked, two fingers slipping into me with zero mercy. “you begged for my cock. begged me to take your virginity. now you’re gonna beg to be fucked stupid.”

he pressed harder, curling his fingers until i cried out.

“there she is,” he murmured, almost sweet. “my needy little cumdump. didn’t even know how much you needed it until i broke you open.”

my thighs trembled uncontrollably.

“you like being used, don’t you?” he purred. “all that innocence, all that good-girl act — but deep down, you wanted me to wreck you.”

“yes,” i whispered, humiliated by how much i meant it. “yes, riki.”

he laughed, dark and pleased.

“i could do anything to you right now, and you’d let me.”

his hand wrapped around my throat, squeezing just enough to make my vision blur around the edges.

“you’d let me fuck your throat ‘til you choke. tie you up in my bed like a toy. leave you shaking and stuffed full for hours.”

i moaned, hips lifting helplessly into his palm.

he smiled.

“say it,” he whispered. “say you’re my fucktoy.”

“i’m—i’m your fucktoy,” i gasped, pleasure and shame crashing through me in waves.

“good fucking girl.”

he let go of my throat, only to flip me over, pushing my face into the couch cushions.

“keep your ass up,” he ordered. “hands where i tied them. that’s how i want you.”

i felt his cock pressing at my entrance again, already hard, already ready to ruin me all over.

“this hole’s mine now,” he hissed. “this body. your voice. every fucking inch of you. i own it.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

my face was buried in the cushions, wrists bound, ass raised like he’d positioned me just to be used.

“don’t move,” riki growled behind me, voice ragged. “stay like that. stay exactly like that.”

i felt his cock press at my entrance again, still dripping with the mess he left in me. my cunt throbbed—sensitive, already sore—and i whimpered before he even pushed in.

“cry all you want,” he said low. “you’re gonna take it.”

he slammed into me with a brutal thrust.

i screamed, body jerking forward—but he grabbed my hips and yanked me back onto his cock, harder.

“shut up,” he spat. “you fucking love this.”

he was right. i hated him for being right.

the pain, the stretch, the filthy drag of his cock inside me—it was all too much and still not enough.

“you know how long i’ve waited to break you in?” he hissed. “sweet little y/n, always pretending you’re so innocent. always acting like you don’t see the way i look at you.”

he pulled out halfway and slammed back in. i cried out again.

“you saw. you fucking liked it.”

my moan was strangled in the cushions, too wrecked to deny it.

his hand tangled in my hair, yanking my head back so he could spit on my cheek.

“say you’re my whore.”

i gasped. “i’m—fuck—”

his palm wrapped around my throat, squeezing just tight enough to make me dizzy.

“say it,” he growled against my ear. “say this pussy belongs to me.”

“it’s yours,” i cried. “riki—it’s yours, i’m yours—”

“fucking right you are.”

he let go of my throat only to slap my ass, the crack of it echoing through the room. then he grabbed my tied wrists and pulled them up, arching me into him.

“look at this body,” he murmured darkly, hips snapping into me with filthy rhythm. “fucked-out and dripping. you’re gonna cum again, aren’t you?”

“no—i can’t—please—”

“yes, you will.” he bit down on my shoulder. “i’m not stopping until you cum all over my cock like the desperate little slut you are.”

i was shaking. sobbing. every nerve fried. and still—my body betrayed me. pleasure coiled again in my gut like a slow burn set to detonate.

“riki—please—please—fuck—”

“cum for me,” he demanded, fucking me harder, deeper. “cum while i ruin this tight little cunt for good.”

i shattered.

my body convulsed, legs trembling so hard i collapsed under him, thighs soaked and slick. my moans turned to gasps, broken and raw, my walls clenching around him like i was trying to keep him inside forever.

“fuck yes,” riki snarled, thrusting wildly. “that’s it. milk my cock, you filthy fucking girl—”

he came with a groan, slamming into me one last time as he emptied himself inside.

we collapsed together. breathless. drenched in sweat. the room spinning.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

i thought he’d be done with me after that second orgasm. after he came inside me again, thick and hot, possessive. after he kissed my wrists and held me like i was something soft, something his.

but riki wasn’t done.

he never was.

i barely had time to catch my breath when he reached over the edge of the couch, grabbed his phone from the floor, and turned it on with a click.

my eyes widened.

“what—what are you doing?”

he didn’t answer at first. he just propped the phone up on the coffee table, the screen glowing in the low light, camera lens pointed straight at me — messy, naked, trembling, legs still parted and dripping with him.

then he looked at me. smirked.

“filming you.”

my heart dropped and slammed back up into my throat.

“riki—”

“shut up,” he said casually, eyes locked on mine. “you look too good like this not to be seen.”

he hit record.

the red light blinked.

i squirmed, instinctively reaching for something to cover myself, but he was already grabbing my wrists again, pinning them down.

“no hiding,” he murmured. “not from me. not from the camera.”

i gasped when he spread my thighs apart, two fingers slipping back into my ruined pussy, squelching softly.

“listen to that,” he said, voice dark and mocking. “fucking soaked. used. leaking. everyone’s gonna know what kind of girl you are.”

“don’t—” i whimpered, face burning, eyes flicking toward the recording screen.

he leaned in, grinning against my cheek.

“oh baby,” he whispered. “you like it.”

his fingers pumped deeper, rough and merciless. “you like the idea of people seeing you all fucked out, stuffed full of my cum. you want them to see how ruined you are. how good you take me.”

i moaned without meaning to. his grin widened.

“i should send this to our old classmates,” he growled. “let them all see what their sweet little honor student turned into. bet they’d never guess you were just my personal whore.”

i sobbed—wrecked, wet, shaking with shame and pure, dripping arousal.

“you’re disgusting,” i breathed.

he pulled his fingers out and shoved them into my mouth, making me gag.

“and you’re a fucking mess,” he hissed. “but you’re my mess.”

he shoved me down onto my back, the phone still recording, and lined his cock up again. i tried to turn my face from the lens, but he grabbed my jaw and forced me to look.

“look at it. look at yourself.”

then he pushed in.

one brutal, bone-deep thrust.

i screamed.

he started fucking me all over again — hard, relentless, eyes flicking between my face and the red blinking light.

“you’re mine,” he growled. “and now i have proof.”

he held the phone in one hand now, screen facing me, camera locked on my face.

his other hand was locked around my throat.

his cock slammed into me again and again, brutal and relentless, my legs trembling, my body flushed and wrecked and still begging for more.

“look at you,” riki panted, voice soaked in filth. “just fucking look at yourself.”

i tried to turn my head, but he forced me to face the screen.

there i was — mouth open, cheeks streaked with tears, throat bruised from his grip, tits bouncing with every savage thrust.

“say hi to the camera,” he growled.

“riki—”

he slapped my cheek lightly, just enough to make me gasp.

“say hi, or i’ll make you watch it on loop while i fuck your throat.”

i whimpered. “h-hi…”

he moaned. “fucking perfect. that’s my girl.”

he spat on my chest, rubbing it in with two fingers, then grabbed my jaw and forced it open.

“say what you are.”

i blinked at him, overwhelmed.

he thrust in deeper. my back arched off the couch.

“say. what. you. are.”

“i’m your—fuck—your slut,” i gasped. “your fucktoy. your personal little whore.”

he laughed darkly, phone still pointed at my face.

“and what do you let me do to you?”

“anything.”

“louder.”

“anything!” i cried out. “you can do anything to me—use me—fuck me however you want—i’m yours!”

his hand wrapped tighter around my throat, cutting off the rest of my breath, and he fucked into me even harder. i was drenched, overstimulated, stretched wide and helpless beneath him, twitching on every stroke.

“gonna cum for the camera?” he sneered. “gonna show everyone how messy you get when i ruin your little virgin hole?”

“yes,” i sobbed. “riki, i’m gonna—fuck—please, don’t stop—”

“that’s it,” he whispered. “cum for me. cum like the fucking toy you are.”

his thumb rubbed over my clit and i shattered. again.

i screamed — a raw, broken sound — as my body convulsed, every muscle locking up, pleasure crashing over me in brutal, dizzying waves.

he kept fucking me through it, drawing it out until i was nothing but shaking limbs and filthy moans and wet, ruined heat around his cock.

“you’re a mess,” he muttered, finally slowing. “all on camera. and you love it.”

“i do,” i breathed, dizzy. “i love it.”

“say it.”

“i love being your toy.”

he kissed me then — messy, possessive, breath-stealing.

and when he finally hit stop on the recording, he held the phone up, showed me the thumbnail.

“gonna keep this forever,” he murmured. “gonna watch it every night i can’t have you.”

then he leaned in close and whispered—

“next time, you’ll beg me to hit record.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

“get on top of me,” he said, still breathless, eyes dark.

i blinked. “what?”

“ride me,” he growled, slapping my thigh. “i want to see what you look like using yourself on my cock.”

he laid back on the couch, one arm draped lazily behind his head — like he wasn’t wrecked, like he hadn’t just spent the last hour fucking me into a mattress.

his other hand? gripping his phone again. hitting record.

“riki,” i whispered, throat raw.

“go ahead, baby,” he said. “show the camera what a desperate little mess you are.”

my legs shook as i climbed over him, straddling his hips, breath catching when i saw how hard he still was.

he grabbed the base of his cock and held it in place.

“sit,” he said.

i sank down, slow, too slow for him. his teeth clenched.

“fuck,” he hissed. “tight even after i broke you open. your pussy’s never gonna forget me.”

i moaned, hips lowering until he was buried deep again — thick, stretching me so good i couldn’t breathe.

he aimed the phone up at me.

“hands on your tits,” he ordered.

i did. fingers trembling as i squeezed, my body on full display.

“now ride.”

i started moving — slow at first, rolling my hips, letting him watch the way his cock disappeared inside me again and again.

“look at you,” he muttered, watching through the screen. “so fucking cockdrunk. ruining yourself on me like it’s your purpose.”

his free hand came up, thumb brushing my clit.

i gasped, already so sensitive it made me jolt.

“don’t slow down,” he warned. “you don’t stop ‘til i say.”

i bounced harder, the sound of skin slapping echoing in the room, wet and obscene.

“you’re dripping down my balls,” he groaned. “gonna show this video to your future boyfriend someday. let him see what a stretched-out whore you were for me first.”

i choked on a moan. my thighs shook.

“he won’t want you after this,” riki said, sitting up suddenly to grab my face. “not after i show him how easy you were to break. how good you are at fucking yourself stupid on my cock.”

his mouth crushed mine, all teeth and spit and heat. i whimpered against him, grinding harder.

he pulled away just enough to whisper against my lips:

“cum like a good little bitch.”

i did.

i clenched around him so hard i nearly collapsed, crying out, legs locking up as the pleasure took me over again. i kept moving, hips still grinding, even as my body begged to stop.

he grabbed my throat, just tight enough.

“keep going.”

“riki—i c-can’t—”

“you fucking will.”

he was close. i could feel it in the way he jerked beneath me, the way his eyes snapped from my face to the phone screen to where our bodies were joined.

“gonna paint your insides again,” he muttered. “gonna cum so deep you taste it in your throat.”

with one final thrust up into me, he grabbed my hips and slammed me down.

he groaned — long, low, filthy — as he filled me up again, cock twitching inside me, fingers bruising my waist.

the phone still recorded.

i didn’t care.

i collapsed on his chest, skin burning, body twitching, unable to even pretend i wasn’t completely, totally owned.

he stopped the video. kissed the side of my head.

then whispered, “you’re gonna watch that with me later while i make you cum all over again.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

riki’s weight pressed into me, heavy and warm, breath ragged and voice low as he whispered, “you did so good baby.”

i was still trembling, hands freshly untied but resting limply on the couch cushion. my skin burned where the string had bitten, cheeks flushed from tears and pleasure and something darker i wasn’t ready to name.

his fingers traced slow circles on my back, rough nails scratching just enough to sting without pain. “don’t think you get to run off now,” he muttered, voice thick with satisfaction. “i want you right here.”

i swallowed hard, heart hammering. “riki, you’re disgusting.”

he chuckled, lips ghosting over mine. “disgusting enough to want you crawling back tomorrow, yeah?”

“maybe.”

he pulled me upright, hands sliding under my arms to haul me against his chest. i tasted salt and musk on his skin. his hands roamed possessively — over my ribs, down my waist, under my thighs — squeezing like he was marking me.

“my filthy girl,” he growled. “you’re mine.”

“not so sure you earned that,” i teased breathlessly, tipping my chin up to meet his gaze.

“i don’t have to earn what’s already mine.”

he kissed me hard, tongue dragging over my bottom lip, biting, tasting. his hand slid down between us, thumb flicking over my swollen clit. i gasped, arching into him despite myself.

“such a needy little brat,” he whispered, fingers slick and demanding. “you think you’re safe now? i’m just getting started.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

the next night, i found myself standing outside his door again.

had i lost my goddamn mind?

the cool night air did nothing to calm the heat pooling low in my belly. my hoodie felt like a mask — half to hide how wrecked i was, half to hide how desperate.

riki opened the door before i could knock. that smirk—dangerous and lazy—spread across his face.

“thought i told you no sneaking around.”

“didn’t listen,” i said, stepping inside.

he grabbed my wrist, yanking me close enough to feel the rapid beat of his heart.

“good girl,” he murmured. “but you’re gonna get in trouble.”

“worth it.”

he dragged me into his room, shoving me against the wall. his mouth found mine—hard, claiming.

“you’re gonna beg me to punish you.”

“please,” i whispered, breathless.

“fuck, you’re filthy.” his hands roamed everywhere, ripping off my hoodie, yanking down my shorts. “always ready for me. always aching.”

he pushed me to the bed, hands wrapping around my wrists again, pinning me as he grinned against me hard and fast—dirty words spilling from his lips with every thrust.

“say it,” he demanded. “say who you belong to.”

“riki,” i moaned. “only you.”

“good girl.”

after, he held me close, fingers trailing over my skin like a promise — dirty, possessive, endless.

“message received?” he teased.

i smiled, still trembling. “message loud and clear.”

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

bittenbyenhypen 2025 ™

[brainrotcharacters]

David's dad reflexes.

the baby stared at David's wolf face, and then made a face like she was sneezing. instead she threw her head back and in the tiniest voice mimicked the howling from her dad and uncles/aunt "awoooo!" until she stumbled backwards on the floor, her tiny feet up in the air. angel caught her head

they all try to teach her the word wolf but she could only manage "oof!"

the baby waddled to David when he was shifted just so she can squeeze his wet nostrils. Angel cackled at David snorting his daughter's hand away

walking becomes easy to the baby because crawling on all fours is so easy. She absolutely crawls on all fours like a gremlin. Asher copies her in human form.

Asher, Milo, and Darlin' shifts in front of the baby just to see 😯 it doesn't matter if they did it five minutes ago or five weeks ago

the baby tries to copy the shifting and instead just shits in her diapers

the baby scrambled to climb David's fur and Angel went "no dna test needed 😌 my girl" adoption, surrogacy, or in vitro regardless

Angel brushed the baby's hair to have it look like wolf ears before going "show your dad!" and David took a break from his work "what are you supposed to be 🤣"

Wolf rides WOLF RIDES

The second wolf the baby crawls to for cuddles is Darlin'. Is it because they're the second biggest wolf after Dada? You don't know. I don't know.

the baby grabbed Darlin's pinky finger once. Sam told the other mates that Darlin' happily cried themself to sleep that night

Angel saw the baby teething on David's bicep one time and just said "mood, little pup. me too."

the baby dozed off on Darlin's chest when they were shifted, scars and all

she also slept across Asher's stomach when he was shifted, because his breathing lulled her to sleep

Milo when he shifted curled up around the pillow the baby was on. Milo woke up to the baby crawling on him behind his back

David lays his entire wolf head on the baby's lap. Having noticed Angel, the baby ran her little hand across his furred nose and furry head too

David's blood pressure rises watching the baby mess around with the other children and young shifters of the pack "angel, their bones aren't even bones yet stop laughing at me this is serious" David has gray hairs now

Angel watched the baby climb between David's paws and copy the way he tilted his head to the side

her first word is either "Davey" or "Daddy" or "pretty" after hearing the compliments so often between the mates

Milo and Sweetheart dresses the baby up in oversized clothes just to hype her up

the baby has an uncanny sense of where Sweetheart is when they're cloaked

she gets her shifting powers through five hours of the most heartbreaking pained wailing David and Angel had ever heard before. yes, her wolf form is cute, but she also curled up whimpering on David's side for an entire week as if the transformation aches lingered

don't blink. the baby can speak coherently at a certain age because angel doesn't baby talk her

the baby drools on the wolves when they cuddle and there's a running joke about how that is her "alpha-ness marking her territory"

David taught the baby early to grab his fur tight when he carries them while shifted. It's muscle memory now for the foreseeable future

Darlin laughed when Sam showed his fangs to the baby and the baby proceeded to smack it. Sam's ears rang for ten minutes

70% of the time David catches that baby crawling around, he goes "🤨 where are you off to on your little adventure, tiny lady?"

The first solstice that the baby spent with Angel, she spent it wailing after her dad as he was leaving. That baby never tried to escape Angel's arms as desperately before David snuggled into the baby's bed after he returned and whispered "hi, your dad's here. I'm back. Daddy's back home."

the baby had eaten wolf hair. whose? everyone's.

she also tried mimicking how the other pups scratched the back of their ears. she toppled over everytime.

the baby watched the new shifters in pain because of their first transformation, so she waddled over offering her toys or her hugs as comfort

the baby eskimo kisses them as wolves on the regular

the baby copies their growling, snarling, barking, puppy eyes, etc.

Angel is off limits in David and the baby's kitchen (David tasked his daughter to catch Angel whenever they're sneaking a taste of the ingredients)

shaw pack & solaire clan with a baby headcanons

it's obviously angel and david's baby. adopted, surrogate, in vitro, whatever you want, they're definitely having the baby first.

not bc they're married, but bc david is father material. david is girl dad. and angel is such parent vibes already.

anyway they have a baby girl !! her middle name is david's mom's name.

the first person from the pack to meet the baby was actually marie greer because she's like the only person they know that's had a baby and was nearby

marie adored the baby and dressed her in the cutest outfits and brought her a stuffed wolf

milo got teary eyed at the sight of her, declared her 'the sweetest thing I eva saw since candy'.

sweetheart had to actively fight baby fever seeing milo holding the little chubby thing in her pink outfit and bow

asher cannot hold the baby, asher is banned from holding the baby.

he instantly turned to baabe and said "ple--" and they said "absolutely not" (yet, maybe)

darlin' and sam were the last to see them, partially because darlin' had a half-breakdown. "I'm a terrible role model, I can't be an aunt/uncle!"

the baby liked darlin' the best, obviously.

sam is also boiling with baby fever but suddenly realized that he can never conceive, something he hadn't thought important until now

david never lets the baby out of his sight. he adores her more than life itself, and actually took months off work just to be with her.

angel puts her in funky little outfits and feeds her things that are probably too sweet for a baby her age, but who cares?

david worried about shifting in front of the baby, but after he did once or twice, she knows exactly who her dad is and crawls to him

she even does little howls when she sees him and says 'wuff! daddy is wuff!'

angel cannot wait for her to get shifting powers

[reginaphalangelobster]

My Handsome Hero

Dean WInchester x Fem!Reader

Summary: You meet a certain hunter when he walks into your diner. He turns out to be just the person you need, especially when it comes to your creepy boss.

Warnings: creepy boss, alcohol consumption, violence.

Word Count: 2k

You hadn't been working at Rosie's Roadhouse for long, only a couple of months at most but it was close to home, the work wasn't all that bad and the pay was okay. Not many people came through, just random travellers here and there and a few local bar flies. Since there weren't all that many people around you often worked as the bartender and waitress, if you did both it paid a little better and there were never enough customers to make it an issue. The only real issue was your creepy boss, Clem. He always looked a little too long, stood a little too close and hit on you relentlessly. You nearly lost it one night when you came in for your shift and he gave you your new uniform. New uniform, it was barely clothing. A tight, low cut white tank top and a black pencil skirt that barely went a few inches down your thigh. If you were to so much as think of bending over you'd be exposed at every angle. You talked to him about it but he said it was what the owner wanted, this mysterious "Rosie" that no one in town had ever seen. You put up with it because you needed the money, and to be fair, you did get bigger tips so you tried looking on the bright side. You were only staying in the dingy bar until you had enough money saved up to go anywhere else.

One day you walked in for your shift and everything was as it usually was, Frank in the corner, passed out, Joanna sitting at the bar talking the ear off anyone who would listen, Ron throwing them back as fast as he could before his wife found out where he was, his wife, Joanna, they were both always so out of it that they didn't recognise each other after twenty years of marriage, and Clem, letching around as per usual. The one thing that did change was the old door creaking and two men walking through. One tall with longish brown hair and the other, shorter but still tall with lighter short hair. They walked over to a table and collapsed into the booth, they were a little dirty and looked absolutely wrecked. They could barely keep their eyes open long enough to scan the menu before you walked over. You made your way from the bar to their table in the stupidly tight uniform and heels.

"What can I get you boys?" You asked with your brightest fake smile and sweet tone.

"I'll just have a salad, thanks" The taller one said.

"Well sweetheart, whaddya recommend?" The other grinned, a not so innocent look in his eyes.

"The cheeseburgers here are good, don't get the fish" Your tone turned into a mock whisper "It's not really fish"

"I don't even wanna know what it is" The first man mumbled whilst pulling a laptop out of his bag.

"Cheeseburger sounds great, and a couple of beers, thanks" The sly one replied, still grinning.

You started to walk away when they began to talk, you didn't mean to overhear but it was near silent in there.

"Seriously Dean?"

"What?"

"Don't what me, you know what"

"The waitress?"

"More like every waitress. I'm getting kinda sick of you hitting on everyone everywhere we go when we're meant to be working a case"

"What about that last case in Detroit? All I had to do was eye up the shopkeeper and she told us everything we needed to know about that Wendigo"

"Just, cool it for tonight, please. I want to get a decent night's sleep and I can't do that if you're screwing some waitress in our room"

"You could always get another room Sammy"

He looked at Dean with a warning in his eye, a "don't test me" glare and they both shut up until you brought out their food. You placed the beer and plates in front of them with a smile on your face.

"Thanks sweetheart" Dean said with that damn smug grin and you were done.

"First of all, I'm not your sweetheart. Second of all you can forget about screwing me in your motel room, you'd be better off turning to Jolly Green here" You barked as you pointed at Sam.

You weren't sure what came over you, maybe it was pent up resentment towards your boss but either way you were glad to get some of it out. Although you did feel a little bad. You walked back to the bar and served your regulars. The boys left after a while and you continued your shift.

You didn't think much of them after that until they came back a few months later. You barely recognised them but after you took their same order again it clicked. You didn't bring it up but Dean did.

"Hey, aren't you that waitress we had a couple months ago? You called my brother Jolly Green"

"That's what you remember?"' You replied.

"I always remember when people make fun of Sammy, that was a good one"

"Gee thank Dean" Sam said in an ingenuine tone.

"Yeah, sorry about that I guess. My boss is a dick and I think I took it out on you, how 'bout a free beer to make up for it?"

"If that's what'll cure your soul I guess I can accept it" Dean said, overacting in his sincerity.

You laughed a little before walking off to get them their same order.

"Again?" Sam rolled his eyes.

"Oh shut up"

Sam and Dean stopped in every now and then for the next year. You didn't know it but whenever they were anywhere near the area Dean would insist they stop by.

"Come on, Sammy"

"Their salads are terrible"

"Then get something that isn't rabbit food, the cheeseburgers are great"

"Oh yeah, I'm sure you wanna go there for the cheeseburgers"

"I do, they wrap the patty in bacon, bacon Sammy"

"And you're only going for the bacon? Nothing else?"

"The wonderful atmosphere, what else would I go there for?"

"You know what"

"Enlighten me"

"The waitress, you know, the one woman who doesn't want to sleep with you"

"Her? You really think I'd drive forty miles out of my way for her?"

"So you wouldn't for her but you would for a cheeseburger?"

"Bacon. Wrapped Samuel. Bacon wrapped!"

"Okay, okay, I got it. Bacon wrapped, jeez. You'll have a heart attack by the time you're fifty"

"Bitch"

"Jerk"

You didn't realise it but when Dean walked through the door you smiled, some might say your face lit up whenever he was around. Over time his terrible jokes started to become hilarious, you weren't really sure why but any bad day you were having could be turned around if he walked through the door.

The second you saw them you put their order in and cracked a couple of beers.

"Hey sweetheart" Dean said as you walked up to them. The once annoying nickname now warmed your heart.

"Hey boys, busy workin'?"

"Yeah, yeah, monsters ain't gonna kill themselves" Dean replied.

"Except that teddy bear" Sam commented.

"Do I wanna know about that one?"

"It was actually pretty funny" Dean said, laughing slightly at the memory.

"Do tell"

You sat down beside Dean as he told you the story. You weren't busy so you had the time. You reacted loudly, laughing at the whole thing. Sometimes you couldn't believe the stories they told. The only reason you did, was because on one of their trips a werewolf was in town and ripped Frank's heart out, you were the one that found him and that's when Sam and Dean explained everything.

"Nice to know its not all just doom and gloom out there"

"Yeah, occasionally we have a funny case, y'know, apart from the deaths"

You got up to take their plates away, just as you were about to walk into the kitchen you heard a light flapping sound behind the doors, so quiet it didn't even register. When you opened them you saw Castiel and let out a small gasp at the surprise.

"Cas, next time you come by remind me to teach you how to knock"

"I understand the concept of knocking"

"But not the application I see"

"Where's Dean?"

"In his booth with Sam, how come you didn't just zap there? Superpowers on the fritz?"

"No, my grace is fine. Last time I appeared in the middle of a public place a few people, as Dean would say, freaked out and they told me to "knock it off"" He answered, actually putting air quotes around the words "knock it off".

"Ah, I see. Well they're just out there. Go, kick evil's ass? I'm not entirely sure what you do besides live in Dean's ass"

"I don't-" Cas stopped, realising that telling you what had happened would be as pointless as when he asked Dean to stop saying that "Thank you"

You got back to work as Cas talked to the boys, you saw them leave together and you felt like saying something to Dean, anything. You didn't want him to leave, for some reason. Just as you were about to talk to him you felt a hand curl around your wrist.

"Where do you thing you're going, baby girl?"

You sighed, heavily, it was Clem. Of course it was Clem.

"I have to talk to someone Clem, my shift is over in five minutes anyways" You said as you pulled away, only for his grip to tighten.

"You're not done yet, there's something I need your help with, out back"

You rolled your eyes and with a huff of your chest you followed him.

"What do you need help with? I can't see anything" You said, examining the area.

"Everything I need is right here" He said with a disturbing look in his eye.

Before you knew it he shoved you against the wall. You felt the rusty steel pressed to your back, your tiny uniform barely giving you any protection from the cold. And you felt Clem, you felt his slimy hands all over you, trying to get under your shirt.

"Clem!" You screamed at him "Get the hell off me" You tried to squirm free but he was stronger than you though.

"That's it baby, be as loud as you want, no one's gonna hear you, and if they do? They won't care"

"That right?" Dean's voice came from behind Clem.

You felt a wave of relief wash over you when you saw Dean. He was just about to get into Baby when he heard you. Your loud cries stirred a fiery rage inside him and he followed the sound immediately. When he saw that creep shoving you into the wall he felt like he could explode. He ripped him off of you and slammed his fist into Clem's face. You both heard bones crack as he screamed with pain. Dean's knuckles were painted in Clem's blood when he turned to you.

"Are you okay? I swear, if that bastard did anything to y-" Dean was cut off abruptly by your lips latching onto his. An overwhelming wave of affection washed over you as you saw Dean protecting you. You couldn't hold it in, you couldn't help yourself anymore.

He was a little stunned for a second, then he fell into the kiss. His mouth moved with yours like a symphony of love and lust. You could taste the beer on his breath and he could taste your devastatingly delicious lips, so soft. You finally pulled away, breathless.

"Dean" You said softly between lung fulls of air "Thank you"

"I'd do anything for you sweetheart. Want me to hit him again? I'd love to"

You laughed lightly "No" You looked over Dean's shoulder to see Clem, running away muttering curses in-between sobs "I think he got the point"

"Good, but seriously, are you okay?"

"I am, I'm fine, my handsome hero"

Dean laughed, blushing slightly when he caught your lips in another kiss, one of many to come.

Tags

@dianawinchester03 @pinkthick @craftytacopiecash @meryuniverse @aliljaybird @macbaetwo @castielshunterwife @scarletluvsdanno @twentyonetornmyheart @neospacedoctor @destiel-1967-sammy @yigashimei @something0193 @ursamajor17 @colorfulavenuecollection @fairytailnerd1024-blog @daithideolishmer18 @am-i-the-villain-co @mameeta @bblessed @maximum-uwu @bbywonu @fmlariel @lipstickandlifts @tiannamortis

[chimckenns]

David was gone for seven days for a gig.

Without his stern eye and gentle guidance, coupled with the stress they were feeling, Angel found themselves spiralling back into old habits.

Their newest project at work wasn’t going well. And their new team refused to work together. They tried everything they could, but deadlines were approaching, and it was just easier to do everything themselves.

That meant they were constantly busy.

But David was leaving, so they worked themselves to the bone during office hours just to scrape together more time with their mate. David was their priority, he always is. But work always weighed on their mind, telling them that they shouldn’t be indulging when things needed to be done.

There was a war going on in their head.

In truth, Angel knew they needed David now more than ever. They felt themselves spiralling, unable to find their way out.

They stopped confiding in him a few days ago, not wanting to be a distraction and make him worry about them at the important job. They kept all their feelings inside, and tried their best to cuddle with him and sort their feelings out themselves.

After all, who’d want a partner that was dependent on them for everything? Even their own feelings?

Even the realisation that their first instinct was to talk to David before trying to figure things out themselves had Angel embarrassed.

Since when did they become like this?

They’ve lived alone before.

They can do it again. Even if it’s just for a week.

They took a deep breath, forcing a smile, when they parted after one final hug. David looked into their eyes, broad hand gently holding their cheeks and stroking his thumb on their cheekbone.

David probably knew. The worried look in his eyes was enough.

“You gonna be okay?” He asked, voice low and laced with concern.

Angel laughed, although their smile didn’t quite reach their eyes. “Of course, Davey. Don’t you go worrying your pretty head over me.”

He pulled them in for another hug, letting them bury their face in his chest one last time. Angel had to bite their lip hard to stop tears from forming and betraying their efforts to appear strong.

David had to go. “Text me” he mouthed, “I love you”.

The car drove away.

The week went by with a blur. Angel barely remembered what they did, constantly busy catching up on the finishing touches of their project while their team hassled them with questions about their own parts.

As much as Angel and David tried to video call every night, they were both drained. The week went by with only one call and a few texts each day.

Angel had never felt so lonely. They hated coming home to cold sheets on a bed way too big for them. Some nights they cried themself to sleep.

When they did though, they felt a warmth in their heart as if something was telling them that they’ll be okay, that David will be home soon, that they’re loved.

Their tears had dried on their cheeks when they woke up.

The project was finally over the day David came back. Angel had driven to the airport and picked him up, squealing with delight as they spotted him at the arrivals, running and launching themself in his arms. He laughed, catching them with ease, and spinning a little before gently setting them on the ground. The smile faltered a little when he took a look at their face though.

He was only gone a week, but they looked thinner than before, bags under their usually shining eyes making them seem dull and bordering on lifeless. He stroked their cheek with his thumb, frowning at how their cheekbones were more prominent before.

“Angel…”

“I missed you.” Their eyes glistened with tears, the stress of the week finally catching up to them now they were back in his arms. “So much happened.”

David simply pulled them back to his chest, holding them tighter.

They were finally home. And it actually felt like home again.

David dropped his things at the door, not wanting to bother unpacking yet. He walked toward the kitchen, wanting a glass of water.

He froze in his path.

Angel saw David’s eyes fall on all the cup noodles on the counter.

Shit.

They tried to laugh, stepping in front of it to try to distract him, eyes unable to meet his in shame.

“I forgot to clean up after my snack.” They said with a sheepish smile.

But he could tell they were lying. About the snack part, anyway.

After an awkward moment of heavy silence, Angel could feel tears forming in their eyes again, the guilt and embarrassment flooding their thoughts.

“…I’m sorry.”

They closed their eyes, bracing for the inevitable scolding they’d hear from him. Just like Michael always did.

But it never came.

“I just have to make sure I spend more time with you.”

Angel finally looked up. They were met with the worried look on his face, but there wasn’t any judgement in his eyes.

“And judging by that smile on your face, I think you like that idea.” Angel didn’t even know they were smiling.

He kissed them, relieved they seemed to feel a little better, and pulled them back into his arms for the millionth time that day.

“My little snot.”

[itzpookiepooh]

HII may I please request Lads men reaction to meeting ur pet snake for the first time and it accidentally bites you during feeding? I love ur fics sm!🫶

Muah 🤍

Reptile’s Best Friend

Zayne is pretty interesting in your snake. He learned a bit about them when he wanted to be a vet. He is always seen with it in his arms or on his shoulder. He usually believes animals don’t like him but you know that’s far from the truth.

“I’m glad he finds comfort in me.” Zayne speaks softly as your snake sleeps on his shoulder.

“You’re a comforting person.” You tell him as you smile at your two favorite people bonding with each other.

Xavier does feel like you give your snake more attention than him. He doesn’t like to share but they end up bonding somehow. Some traumatic experience, a quote from Xavier. Actually you went on a mission and the two missed you dearly so that was their bonding moment.

“Sssssimon says he missed you today.” Xavier tells you as he puts the snake back into his tank.

“Simon? That’s not his name…” You narrow your eyes at him. Xavier just nodded firmly not willing to argue.

“Sssssimon and Yes it is he told me.” Xavier replied as you shook your head in confusion. “What? No he didn’t—“ Xavier stops you.

“Were you there?” He questioned as you shook your head no. “Then you wouldn’t know.” He turns back to the snake.

Sylus likes to bring your snake to business meetings to look more powerful. It scares the crap out of whoever he’s dealing with but it brings him joy so who cares.

“Sylus. Beloved.” You call to him as he hums an answer.

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “You can’t drag her to a meeting every time you have one.”

“Why? I don’t see her complaining.” He countered making you roll your eyes.

“Because she can’t speak.” You say sassily as he pets her.

“She doesn’t understand us.” He whispered to your snake as she cuddles up to him. Your jaw drops immediately. There’s no way your snake is cozying up to him.

Rafayel was a bit scared of it at first. He would tense up any time it even touched him. He watched it move across the floor because it broke out of the tank and climbed the counter. Between snakes and cats he wasn’t for it. That was until the snake saved him from the vicious beast.

“Rafayel you’re gonna overfeed the poor thing.” You pout holding a finger out to your pet.

“He deserves it for saving me today. I think he needs a bigger exhibit.” He said smiling at the reptile.

“No he does not!” You argue. Their home was big enough as is and he wasn’t that big.

Yet here your boyfriend was directing delivery men on where the new tank should go. You knew better than to think he wouldn’t do the most for his savior.

Caleb really acts like it’s his snake. He’s always taking the poor thing out of its tank and letting it hang out on him. They’re watching tv together as we speak.

“Caleb you can’t keep walking around here with a snake around your neck!” You argue as he shrugs.

He turns to the snake with a sigh, “They’ll never understand what we have.” He kisses the snakes head.

“WHO ELSE IS THERE????” You shout as they both ignore you.

Boom I can write fast when I have the chance 🤫

[mamiobesssionfics]

Crimson Reign

Vampire!Rhea Ripley x Reader

Summary: Plagued by violent dreams and drawn to the mysterious leader of a vampire biker gang, you find yourself caught between a forgotten past and a fate soaked in blood.

The dreams began on the first blood moon of autumn.

Each night, the same vision, you, running through a burning forest, your heart pounding like drums, your feet bare, slicing against stone and ash.

And a voice calling from the darkness.

"You are mine."

Deep. Feminine. 

Though yet, you could hear the grief in it.

You would wake sweating, breath caught in your throat, fingers clenched around your sheets like they'd save you. But nothing made the dreams stop.

If anything, they got worse.

Flames turned to teeth. Screams to whispers. And the woman, the one with pale skin, blood-soaked hands, and eyes like dead stars, got clearer.

She called you by name.

Yet, you didn't know how she knew your name.

The new gang in town caused a stir almost immediately.

Matte black motorcycles thundered through the streets, sleek and hungry. Leather, ink, chrome. They never smiled.

And at the centre of them was her.

Rhea Ripley.

You didn’t know her, but the moment your eyes met hers at the gas station you felt something switch inside you. Her gaze pinned you like a blade through velvet.

She didn’t speak. Just stared.

And smirked.

The next night, someone went missing. Then another. And another.

Rumors spread fast.

Cult. Vampires. Cartel.

No one knew what the gang wanted, only that they’d set up base on the outskirts, in an abandoned motel swallowed by the woods.

You should have stayed away. But you didn’t.

She found you again.

At midnight, under the iron bridge where the river whispered secrets. You were drawn there without reason, barefoot and dazed, like sleepwalking.

"You came back," she said.

Her voice, the voice. The one from your dreams.

You stepped back. "I don’t know you."

She looked at you like it was the cruellest thing you could say.

"But you will."

Her hand touched your wrist, and pain flared beneath your skin, burning. A mark showed, shaped like a crescent moon and thorns. You cried out.

"What-what did you do to me?!"

"Opened the lock," she whispered. "Now the past can bleed through."

You didn’t sleep that night. You relived.

A different time.

A castle drowning in roses and shadows. You, in silks. Her, in armour. Kisses stolen in candlelight. A betrayal. A stake through her heart. Blood in your hands. Your scream echoing through eternity.

You woke sobbing.

You hated her.

You missed her.

You wanted her to suffer.

You needed to see her again.

You confronted her at the old motel, storming into the den of wolves like you weren’t shaking.

Vampires hissed, but she silenced them with one raised hand.

"Why me?" you demanded.

"Because you were mine before time had a name. Because when they burned my body, I swore I'd find you again."

"I killed you."

"You loved me."

You slapped her. She didn’t flinch. She stepped closer.

"You think I haven’t lived with that pain? Replaying it? Waking in graves and screaming for you?"

"You’re a monster."

"So are you, now."

The mark began to spread.

Your reflection faded in mirrors. Your appetite turned metallic.

You could hear heartbeats, feel them. You cried when your hands passed through sunlight and blistered.

Rhea came to you in the ruins of your childhood church. She knelt, for once looking unsure.

"I can undo it. If you hate me that much. If you don’t want to remember."

You looked at her. Her cruelty, her sorrow, her unbearable patience.

"No. I want the truth. Even if it breaks me."

She smiled, soft and aching. "Then come home."

You did.

Into the dark.

Into her arms.

Into the beginning, again.

Masterlist

/DO NOT TRANSLATE, STEAL OR REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/