#when it comes to triggering content like this please tell me if I’m doing something wrong with my warnings

[mullermilkshake]

Time constraints

Part 27 <- Part 28-> Part 29

It's time for labour, the twins are coming and nothing is stopping them.

Yandere!Jinwoo Sung x Fem Pregnant!reader Tags - Heavily pregnant reader, Graphic depictions of labour/childbirth, Hospital, Mentions of c-section procedure, Trauma

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I have only watched the anime and haven't gotten round to reading the manhwa yet. Please refrain from spoilers.

TAG LIST RE-OPEN (The tag list is back up and open for a little while, if you'd like to be tagged, please let me know! 🤗)

TW - This will contain some very graphic details of labour in childbirth which may be triggering for some, if you do not wish to read it, I will leave a short summary of this chapter at the bottom of this post, thank you all for reading this far and enjoy!!

Don’t freak out.

Don’t freak out.

Don’t fucking freak out.

Your fiancé had lost his memories of you and the twins and now you were pretty sure your water had broken, and he still didn’t remember anything. Fuck- holy fuck, holy fucking- fuck, you were wholeheartdley freaking out, naked and freaking out.

“Okay…” Deep breaths, you ignored the trickling down your leg which pooled on the floor. “Okay. I need to- I need-“

Jinwoo rushed to your side, touching your arm made you flinch. “Tell me what you need. You have a hospital bag or something we need to take, right?”

“Yeah, it’s in the closet- I need a shower.” There was a sudden, dull pain radiating from your back.

Did having sex cause this?

“Okay.” Jinwoo gathered his clothes. “I’ll call the hospital, leave the door open, shout if you need me.”

“Alright.”

The doctor said that when your waters broke, it could be a matter of hours until the twins arrived though not guaranteed. Not long in the grand scheme of things, less than a day and over in a blink.

What if something went wrong? Maybe something would happen to you and Jinwoo ended up being left with two screaming babies all on his own.

You ran the water in the shower, breathing slowly, screwing your eyes shut to try and balance your mind and relax your muscles from tensing too much.

Hot water? No, warm. If it’s too hot, my blood pressure could drop, I might faint and end up having the babies here- what if we were too late to the hospital and I give birth in the car- oh my god.

“Oh my god.”

A quick shower, one to wash your hair and prep yourself before sitting in a stuffy hospital for the week. 

Ten minutes tops, hyper aware of the pressure in your back, like mild period cramps that slightly intensified each time they came over like waves. A couple of minutes maybe more apart.

Ten minutes turned into twenty, then over half an hour when Jinwoo came in, knocking behind the mist of foggy heat on the glass.

“Are you okay? Do you need anything? The hospital said to come in when you’re ready, I’ve put everything at the door and there was an oversized t-shirt on top of the bag so I laid it out for you on the bed.”

You just about heard his voice over the shower, his silhouette waiting behind for a response.

“I’m… freaking out.”

Jinwoo didn’t say anything at first, you could see him pacing, wanting to say something. But he never did.

“Can you come in? I want to make sure I got all the soap out of my hair.”

In honesty, you’d rinsed your hair twice and stood under the running water for who knew how long. Despite Jinwoo’s troubles, having him next to you brought you a comfort you craved.

“Sure.” He took his clothes off quickly, opening the door and slipping inside right next to you.

He hesitated before holding your shoulders, rubbing his thumbs over the wet skin where it counted. You accepted a chaste kiss to your temple, grounding you a little when a cramped pulse through your back and stomach.

“Are the bubbles out?” 

You looked up at him, already exhausted, knowing the next time you slept properly, you wouldn’t be pregnant anymore. Jinwoo searched your hair, massaging it with his fingertips under the water like there were actual bubbles left over.

“Yeah, they’re all out.”

“Okay-“ You hissed, inhaling a sharp breath and catching you off guard.

“What’s wrong? Is it a contraction?”

Nodding, you breathed it out and turned the shower off. “Yeah, it was sharp, nothing like the ones before that.”

“Let’s get dried, I’ll take you to the hospital-“

You pulled him back before he could open the door. “You’ll stay with me, right? You won’t leave.”

Jinwoo smiled sweetly, like how he did before, like his face was searching for little fragments to piece together.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“What if you need to come back here like Jong-in did, and I have the babies before you get back?”

“I guess I better bring everything I need so I won’t have to leave your side then.”

That sentiment stopped your heart beating any faster, yet the anxiety still remained. “It’s too early, I thought we still had a week, what if something’s wrong?”

Jinwoo handed you your towel, wrapping his own around his waist. He picked up another and scrunched your hair in it softly so that you didn’t break as delicate as you were feeling. 

“Lets see what the doctor says before we get riled up, I’m sure there’s a reason.”

A reason, you couldn’t think of any except that you must have done something to agitate it, to aggravate the twins into dipping out because you were just no longer inhabitable. The babies were early, meaning they would need some sort of help when they got here, the doctor said that.

It must have been the sex, it had to be. What if it hurt them or something now that they’ve dropped into position?

Your babies had dropped a few weeks ago, your body’s way of telling you that the they were ready to come at any time.

On the entire way over there, you didn’t speak, calmly breathing away more contractions. And when you weren’t doing that, you pulled apart every reason why you wouldn’t be a good mom.

If you never got your mana back, how would you raise them properly? Jinwoo couldn’t remember your face and every time he looked at you, you knew he was wracking his brain to try and find something to recognise you by. Every glance, every touch, like he was touching someone new for the first time.

He had forgot key moments in the relationship that only you knew and could never get back because you couldn’t experience them for the first time again.

A first kiss, first time, when he cooked for you and you for him when moving into that apartment into the unknown, you both made it a home. You hated that place now, wanting to live anywhere but there. Jinwoo would have loved your old place, one with a little balcony and a beautiful view of the city. Now it was gone.

All gone. Your little piece of privacy, all gone.

Jinwoo informed the receptionist of your arrival, stating your name and pulling up a wheelchair to sit in because your back began aching constantly. Tightness, that’s what you’d describe it as, a tightness around your belly each time a contraction washed over your body. Just plain uncomfortable most of the time, and then a certain pain came with a vengeance and made your teeth grit and you’d hiss like a snake or venomous animal that ought to be left alone.

“Hello!” When the doctor’s high pitched voice and grin entered the room, you couldn’t bear her. “How are you feeling?”

Jinwoo helped you on to the bed after you’d managed your hospital gown on, he never left, and you recognized that stare he’d given the doctor many times before. Now, you knew she meant well enough, but her face was pidsing you off.

“Oh, y’know, just as good as carrying around two babies inside me can feel.”

“I know, it’s a lot to process, but we’ll hopefully have a smooth birth like we did the pregnancy.” The doctor shuffled through some notes on her clipboard. “Now, I see your finalised birth plan says no pain medication, we’ll keep to that?”

“For now, I’m managing alright so far.”

Chances were you’d want medication later. It all depended on what you heard from the other rooms on the delivery ward. One screaming mother in your ears and you assumed it would send you into a state of panic. For now, the halls were mostly silent apart from squeaking hospital shoes and distant, beeping monitors behind other private doors.

Simple enough.

“Are you delivering the baby?” Jinwoo asked, his hand resting on your own as your legs swung off the side of the bed.

“Me? No. I’ll just be going between you two and Hunter Cha, the midwives will be taking care of the delivery. I’ll be assuming more of a matron role today. While I do specialise in pregnancies, I’m more involved in caesarean assisted deliveries and postpartum surgeries.” She smiled and adjusted her lab coat over her new pink scrubs. “I leave the amazing work to the midwives, but I’m on call for any procedures as a last resort, it’s commonplace.”

“Oh, right- yeah of course.” You’d never even entertained the idea of a C-section. Too busy worrying over everything else.

The doctor took your other hand and tried her best to reassure you, Jinwoo’s hand squeezed yours in response. “Please don’t worry about that right now, the midwife will check the babies position, but we already know they been engaged for a little while now, so I don’t think their positions will be an issue. So try not to think about my role today, just focus on yourself… you have a very supportive partner with you.”

She spoke the truth with that. You smiled involuntarily and nodded, watching Jinwoo with adoration even in the shitty times, he pulled through for you.

“Now, the twins are a little earlier than we hoped, but a specialist midwife will be on standby with incubators incase they’re in need of support. It is very common for twins to require longer hospital stays, but it’s okay.”

“We had sex-” It slipped from your mouth faster than you could ever control it. Fucking verbal vomit, coming out with it like you were shamelessly telling your parent. “Could that be-”

“No. There are some outdated methods to hurry labour along, but we could never confirm it. Sometimes babies are just ready to come out early, and yes, there could be complications, but you must remember, it’s pretty cramped in the uterus with one baby let alone two. They’re probably just ready to meet everyone. But we’ll monitor them to be sure, okay?”

“Okay.” It settled your nerves as another contraction rolled through your body.

Jinwoo massaged your shoulders and bridged the gap between you and the doctor. “What about Hae-in? She’s been here longer, shouldn’t you be with her?”

“We still have a little ways to go, I’m heading over to see her now, last time we checked she was over halfway there, so she’ll most probably give birth way before you do, but if you need anything, just call a nurse and they’ll come and get me.”

She sighed wistfully, shaking her head with the most delicate chuckle you’d ever heard from her. “I never would have guessed you two girls would go into labour at the same time! Talk about timing- now, get some rest while you can and my advice is to walk around if applucable, it can help get things moving. Best of luck you two, see you in an hour or so.”

As soon as she left the room, you grabbed onto Jinwoo’s t-shirt and tugged him closer, a sudden doom looming over your head. “Jinwoo, what if she has to cut me open- it was never part of the birth plan I-”

When he embraced you, you eased into him, taking on the smell of his cologne and natural smell that soothed you.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.” Brushing your hair from your face he smiled. “Let’s tackle it together, see where it takes us.”

If he was freaking out like you were, he was doing a pretty decent fucking job of hiding it.

“Okay…”

The comfort sat on the shelf longer than you were able to keep it, several hours later, you were in what the midwife called active labour. And it fucking killed. Every movement, each sharp breath as your contractions sort of merged together in one thick contraction. You were struggling.

“I need to use the bathroom-”

“Do you feel you need to push?” The midwife asked, taking your hand to aid you out of bed.

“No- no, I need to pee, I really have to pee.”

Your poor bladder, probably swollen to the size of… well not bladder sized. One of the twins were kicking at it like a fucking football. If you didn't go now, you were sure to wet yourself and piss all over the floor. Not your finest moment, yet with all the gross stuff, Jinwoo never batted an eye.

Yet, the more in pain you got, the quieter he became. After each outburst of fear or panic, that was when you could see his eyes widen.

However, he said nothing to voice his fears, internally processing them and still being available to support you. Each time you overheard Have-in scream and shout during labour, it frightened you, making you jolt and flinch and temporarily forget the pain you were in yourself.

Childbirth was fucking terrifying.

But, peeing was great, sitting down in a different position was even better, it helped you ignore the commotion outside.

“What the fuck is that?!” Struggling to stand with assistance, you backed away like you’d found a spider in there.

The midwife looked into the toilet once you were up and wide eyed at the lump-of-whatever that fell in the toilet, all veiny and globular.

“It’s alright, please don’t panic. It’s your mucus plug, it means things are moving along.”

The thing looked alive, it looked fucking alive. It could have been the overwhelming pain shooting through you or an array of other things, but that thing fucking looked alive.

“Jinwoo… I don’t think I can take this any more.” You were so close to sobbing, inches close to giving up with each second passing and making that C-section look appealing as it could be being cut open.

“We’ll get you something for the pain-” He waved over the nurse. “Can you get her something for the pain now?”

“I’m back!” The doctor came in with a positive grin you wanted to sneer at.

The nurse nodded over to her and said, “She’ll be able to prescribe it for you.”

Relief, perhaps? Any painkillers were deliciously just in reach, anything to take the edge off. “Good, because I need something for the pain- I can’t take this any longer, doctor..”

She pulled out her clipboard and scanned through the pages. “We can, but your birth plan states no pain medication, do you want to wait and-”

“No,” You managed yourself back into bed with Jinwoo’s aid. “I want it now, anything you have. Please.”

“I think maybe we should-

Something snapped in you alarmingly fast, a feral and rabid inducing. “Get me some fucking pain medication, bitch! I’ve just birthed a giant glob in the toilet and was told it’s normal. These kids are gonna split me in two and I’d rather not feel it! Now, if you aren’t gonna be useful, get the fuck out!”

Silence. Indescribable silence.

Then you realised what you just said through the constant wall of pain. “Fuck… I’m sorry-”

“Doctor.” Jinwoo coaxed her over towards the corner of the room where you couldn’t hear anything, far too many machine beeps and heavy breaths to even see clearly.

But you noticed the doctor's expression change from neutral to something out of a horror movie. Eyes wide and mouth wider. She nodded and adjusted herself, clearing her throat and announcing to the room that she’d be back with the medication you wanted.

“She’s getting you anything you need, don’t leave anything out, alright?” Jinwoo turned, watched you like he hadn’t done within the last day and gave you a knowing smile. “Hi, Baby.”

Your pet name. Even in the pain you realised.

“Jinwoo- wait- do you-”

He approached and kissed your forehead, holding you firmly like he hadn’t seen you in weeks. “I’m sorry I went away, I won’t ever leave again, I promise.”

What the hell. Jinwoo remembered all of a sudden with no warning, and he thought it was appropriate in your pain blind mind to apologise right now?

“Wait- wait.” Grasping his shirt made him groan unexpectedly. “You took your time!”

He let you pull him about. “Thanks for waiting for me, I missed you too.”

Sarcasm. But you couldn’t deny it. “I did miss you.”

“And… you love me too, huh?”

Not one minute back to his usual self and already you wanted to throttle him and kiss him all at the same time.

Better late than never.

"I do."

Wiping the damp hair away from your face, he stared at you with the most adoring look he'd ever given you. "Let's have our babies. I'm with you the whole way, properly this time."

No, he came back at the right time.

Part 27 <- Part 28-> Part 29

SUMMARY - Jinwoo and reader go to the hospital, the doctor is indirectly involved with her care and Hae-in's, and is on standby. She tries to keep to reader's birth plan, (which is no meds) Reader is in pain and shouts at her hehe, and then we see Jinwoo put the doctor in her place and we find out that he has his memories back.

Not the best at summaries 🫣 Sorry!

I'm not fully fully happy with how I've done the ending but I'm not sure if it's just me reading over this one like ten times, what do you think?

ANNOUNCEMENT - I'm away all of next week, so no chapters until sometime next week 🫣🫣 sorry! I'll still be writing, I just won't be uploading.

TAG LIST RE-OPEN (The tag list is back up and open for a little while, if you'd like to be tagged, please let me know! 🤗)

Thank you for reading and all of the support on this fic! ❤️ Likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated and I appreciate you all! See you next time 🤗

Tag list - @bubera974 @snowy-violet @sky2lar @starrynights23x @kamiliora

@yessirr7 @qmabailor @yihona-san06 @mashiromochi @daiyanomochi

@justatimidcreator @alia-17 @otomegamesforlife @m00n-estelle @towomatos

@stormnightingale @johnnysactualgf @solarisstarrsolomonsbeloved @johnnysactualgf @notleclerc

@minkuro @misakicchi @lovingyeet @soft-dots @gina239

@sabrina-senpai @tsukimoon-chan @afkmylajah @livelaughlovekuni @keiva1000

DISCLAIMER - Crossposted from my AO3 - I do not own any of the characters or anything from the anime or manhwa. This is a work of fan fiction and is absolutely not representative of the views or intentions of the original creator(s).

Also please don’t post any of my work, thank you!

[sward-detcader]

Currently working on a photo set for @cordeliawhohung ‘s Touch Me Till I Vomit, aka the Pet!AU. More explanation about the piece is below the cut!

HEED THE TAGS AND IMAGE ID, MDNI

[ID] Soap stands behind Bonnie, his hand tightly holding her face/neck. Bonnie is very obviously in distress, crying, with bruises marking her shoulders and chest. Though not on screen, Soap’s gun shot wound is implicated with blood running down his face and dripping onto Bonnie’s shoulders.

[TAGS] If you don’t like Pet!AU you are not going to like this art. Keep scrolling, themes of abuse, blood, bruises, bite marks, collars, crying, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT

I’ve been a horror fan for a while now, and especially psychological horror. Core’s AU has really tickled a brain worm for me, this fic has literally kept me awake at night after I first read it. I cannot express how infatuated I am with the horror element, if this was a movie I would be in the theater opening night. It gives me the same thrill movies like The Black Phone and Silence of the Lambs has. I just… god. Yeah. You don’t get a lot of fic writers who are willing to completely delve into the horror side and who are steadfast in their goal and who don’t bend when people are trying to push and pull them to make it more romantic. I love this, and I adore Core.

There are some things that I really tried to incorporate into the piece. I know typically if a mouth is overly detailed or teeth are shown individually it can induce a feeling of discomfort. I also wanted to really highlight the idea of Soap being a dog in this fic, hence the exaggerated canines and the bite mark. I know the color of the collars aren’t accurate to the fic, but in order to make them stand out with the deep red color pallet I opted to make the black more blue leaning than red/brown as one might see in a typical leather collar. I knew, especially after the most recent chapter, that I had to include Soap’s GSW somehow as that’s a key element as to how he also became a victim. I’ll probably do a more expansive breakdown of the art and its meaning later, but rn I need to get to work lol. Please share thoughts on this piece if you’re willing, negative and positive! I’m always looking to improve!

[mrsdarkandyandere7]

Lover's Quarrel

Pairing: Dark (aged-up) Katsuki Bakugo x (female) Reader

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

Female Reader

SUMMARY: You get away from Bakugo’s toxic clutches. But soon your peace comes to an end.

WARNINGS: Toxic Relationship; minor Violence/Abuse.

AN: Please, reblog and give me feedback.

I just realized today is his birthday, so here it is :) hope you guys like this.

–

“...you better damn pick up my calls, (Y/N). I’m losing my patience here so you better get that fucking attitude out of your system or I’ll do it for you. Swear to god I’m gonna drag your stupid ass back home if you don’t come to your damn senses and if you fucking think that-”

You press a button, closing the voicemail with a sigh. Throwing your phone to the bed’s edge, you turn your back to it, curling yourself into a ball. 

Your mind is an unstable whirlwind of thoughts and worries and a solitary tear rolls down your face. It’s not fair.

None of this is fair.

You pull the blankets over you, but even their warmth isn't enough to calm the cold that scatters through your body. 

A sob breaks your composure and you hastily push your face into the pillow, smothering down the ugly sobs and whines that break out. 

It takes a long time until your eyes are finally dry and you have no more tears to weep.

But even afterwards, as you finally fall asleep, the heavy feeling still weighs on your heart.

Ding. 

Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. 

Your friend looks at you and you’re quick to mute the notifications that pop up, eyes catching sight of the messages that Bakugo is spamming you before you black the screen. 

“I know I’ve asked before, but is everything really okay?” she asks, ignoring the movie on display in favor of looking at you, a concerned wrinkle settling between her brows.

“You seem… so distracted ever since you came. Is it about Bakugo?” 

You shift on the couch, uncomfortable. 

“It’s nothing.” you hesitantly tell her, measuring your words carefully. None of your friends know about the depth of Bakugo’s dark side and you’d rather not involve them.

Even though you’re almost sure that she suspects something is up, especially with the unannounced way you dropped by unannounced a couple of days ago, asking if you could stay a few days. 

“You can tell me, you know that, right? I’m not gonna judge or whatever.” 

You nod, giving her a small smile but no words come out of you despite the hefty weight on your mind. You don’t want to burden her with your problems. 

“I know, don’t worry. We’re just giving it some time. Lover’s quarrel and all.” you try to joke even though there's no humor in your smile.

"I see, okay." your friend draws a small smile, hesitating for a moment before letting it be. 

Work drags far too slowly. 

Boring paperwork to be filled, a few documents that need reviewing.

Nothing that actually manages to successfully distract you away from your current problems. If anything, it leaves you with far too much time for your mind to wander through your situation.

A definitive break-up is more complicated than what it seems as you’re aware that Bakugo won’t peacefully accept that. 

Just the idea of having to deal with an even angrier Katsuki has you cowering further into your chair and you distract yourself by opening your work email, digging into the emails that need to be answered. 

You’ll think about Bakugo later. 

“Later” arrives much earlier than what you expect.

When the clock hits 6 p.m you reluctantly turn off the computer, gathering your jacket and your purse. 

When you check your phone out of habit, the lack of messages surprises you. Strange.

Maybe Bakugo is finally catching the hints that you want to be left alone? You sure hope so.

You couldn’t be more wrong about it and you almost jump when your co-worker shrieks in delight, nudging your arm as you retrieve your car keys from the purse. 

“Oh god, he’s so cute, damn. Seems like someone was eager to see you.” 

Your heart drops at the sight of the blonde man that leans against your car, crimson eyes fixed on you.

“You’re so lucky. My boyfriend never comes to pick me up.” she whines before finally saying a distracted goodbye, throwing adoration filled glances at Bakugo when she walks away. 

For a moment, you consider leaving your car in the open parking-lot. You could take the bus to your friend’s apartment. It would be no big deal, only half an hour before reaching her place. 

But the impassive expression on your boyfriend’s face warns you not to ignore him and you don’t doubt Bakugo’s ability to cause a overly explosive scene right in front of your workplace. 

Your legs walk on their own towards him and he straightens up, pushing himself off the hood as he walks to you, meeting you half-way, far too close for your comfort.

He’s wearing civilian clothes, you notice. They make his firm muscles bulge from beneath the thin material, the veins in his arms popping out with his hands hidden in the pant’s pockets, as always.  

“What do you want?” 

“Can we talk?” he asks.

“Talk then.” 

Irritation seeps into Bakugo’s face. He’s never had much patience. 

“We can talk in your car. The keys.” 

Despite his stretched hand, you don’t deposit the keys in his palm. It’s your car. It’s your life. You have to fight for it. 

“Y/n.”

You take a step back, shaking your head. 

“If you wanna talk, then we can talk here. Out in the open.” 

The corner of his mouth twitches with ire, and it compels you to take another tiny step away from him. 

“Will you stop fucking stepping away from me?” his voice booms loudly through the empty parking lot, eliciting a wince from you. “Quit acting like I’m gonna beat you to a bloody pulp or somethin’. I’m just trying to take you back home, you idiot.” 

“But I’m not going back.”

“You are.”

You clench your teeth, hoping it would help ease out the incoming flow of angry tears that threatens to spill at any moment now. 

“I said. I’m not going back.” 

Bakugo ignores your words, losing his patience upon your refusal. 

“Like hell you aren’t. I’ve had enough of this stupid attitude of yours.”

His hand latches to your wrist, holding it in a bruising grip, tight enough for you to feel the bones in your hands being painfully compressed together. 

“Ah, Katsuki, you’re hurting me!” you cry out, attempting to release his grip by using your free hand.

But your fingers are far too weak to pull him away and he groans when your nails scratch him. It makes him grip your hand harder and you sob, body limpless following forward when Bakugo tugs you in his direction. 

You bump into his hard chest, head sharply pulled back with his callous hand enveloping the back of your neck, his large palm easily covering all of it.

The tall hero doesn’t even bother looking around, unafraid of the possibility of someone walking by. Bakugo’s never been one to be overzealous, much less now that the position on Pro Hero Number 2 belongs to him. 

“You’ve had your fun these past days. But it’s over now, y’hear me?” the tips of his fingers dig into your neck, and you’re barely able to hold his threatening gaze, already knowing that you’re not coming out on top of this.

“You’re coming back home with me. No fuckin' fuss, no complaining, and that’s final. Like hell I’m gonna let you get away from me, so you better start fixing that attitude.”  

He squeezes your neck, looking at you with deadly eyes. 

“You hear me? Brat.” 

He keeps his hand on the back of your neck when guiding you to your own car, unceremoniously pushing you to the passenger’s seat before claiming the steering wheel for himself. 

A few tears escape from your eyes and you turn your face to the window, ignoring the sharp looks Bakugo throws your way.

You hug yourself, all of your hope dissolving at the realization that you’re never truly gonna be free from him. 

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Vow 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, arranged marriage, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!August Walker

Summary: your father’s murder leaves you in the hands of a dangerous man.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

The man is quiet. The villain. The boss. The groom. Your... husband. 

The vows were what you would find in a script. Nothing special. Just standard. Just going through the motions. And when he lifted the veil, his kiss was just as prescribed. That’s it. Your life is over and his is just beginning. 

Your hand is in his as he guides you from the hall. He takes you between the pews and out the tall doors. A shower of petals rain down on you as you come out into the sunlight. There’s a car waiting. The people around you are like actors on a screen. It’s all fake. This isn’t a happy day, this is business. 

The car door shuts on the other side of him and you’re closed in with this stranger. The stranger you’ll spend the rest of your life with. You know his name and his bad deeds, but nothing else. 

You fold your hands over the layers of the full skirt. He shifts as he pulls a fold of tulle from beneath him. You watch his large hand and tremble. 

“Sorry,” you breath and snatch the skirt so that it can’t overflow onto his lap. 

He catches your hand and you freeze. You lock up, bones aching, muscles clenched. He tugs on you. You let him draw you closer as you stare at his steely grip. He brings his other hand over to pet your knuckles. The softness of his touch makes you tingle. 

“You’re scared,” he states. It isn’t a question. He knows. “If you are loyal, you don’t need to be.” 

You nod, “yes, sir.” 

He huffs through his nose, “I am your husband.” 

You close your eyes and tempo your heartbeat, “what should I call you?” 

“You know my name.” 

“Walker.” 

“August,” he insists upon his first name. “Maybe one day, you will have something softer to call me.” 

“Maybe,” you shiver and he squeezes your hand. 

“Your father wrote his own fate, you will write yours,” he raises your hand and lays a kiss on the back of it. “It doesn’t need to be the same.” 

You stare ahead. You can’t let yourself feel or you will feel everything. The fear, the grief, and even, the anger. Once they boil over, you will be lost. 

“I understand, August.” 

Another heavy exhale. 

“You will not act so cold in front of my men.” He takes your hand and forces your fingers open. “You will touch me with kindness.” He puts your palm to his cheek and leads you to cradle his face. His stubble pokes at your delicate gloves. “You will do so without my order. You will behave as a wife, so far as they are concerned. Let your father’s defiance die with him.” 

“I will not resist,” you tell him as much as yourself. 

“Goddamnit, look at me,” he says. 

You turn to look him in the face. The anger you expect is absent. He watches you placidly. Your fingers twitch and he leans into your touch. He takes your other hand and forces you to twist toward him. He leans in and before you can think, his lips are on yours. 

It is different than at the altar. Not just a peck, more. His lips part and his tongue flicks out along yours. He hums and you open your mouth. His hand creeps up the back of your neck and he locks you against him. His tongue invades your mouth and you squeak. 

He draws away and his eyes narrow, “better.” You’re unsure if he means it was better than before or that you need to do better.  

He lets you go and sits back against the seat. He closes his eyes as he pushes his shoulders wide. His feet are planted as he lingers in unspoken thought. You look at the driver then out the window. You turn back to him. 

You touch his sleeve and shimmy closer. He hums again. The tone assures you that you aren’t unwelcome. Play your part, fulfill your vow. That is all that needs to be done.  

This is more than you, there is your mother, and others beyond that. Those that were once loyal to your father. Those you called friends and family. Those who now walk the same tightrope. Those that have already fallen. 

The car stops. A flicker of panic strikes in your chest. The door opens from outside and he pulls you out with him. You keep one hand on your skirt and the other on his arm. He marches ahead. 

You enter the large building and wait in some room. He remains silent, pensive. You’re summoned and after a time. He fixes your arm to hook through his as you stand before the large doors. 

“Head up,” he girds before you enter. 

They watch you, just as before. You can hear them this time, whispering. You don’t look anywhere but ahead of you. He nods at the more notable guests. You will not doubt be met again with those faces through the night. 

He puts you ahead of him to climb onto the platform where the bride and groom’s table stands. He follows closely. He pulls a chair out but puts his hand to your back so you cannot sit. He sidles behind you. Instead, he sits with you, lifting you into his lap. 

You quiver again. Humiliation surges through you. This is his show of victory. He boasting. No, you will not just be beside him, you are his.  

[cevansbrat0007]

Guessing Games: A Fast Car Interlude

Summary: You accidentally trigger Ari's jealous streak. Takes place directly after the events in Guessing Games.

Warnings: Mature Themes, Implied Future Smut, Ari Being A Menace, Brat!Reader, Jealous!Ari, Innocent Flirting, Stupid Men, Manhandling, Mentions of Spanking, Discussions of Self-Image, Mentions of Lingerie, Semi-Public Sex, Allusions to Fingering, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: After a shitty week, please enjoy this completely self-indulgent fic. Part of my Sweet Renegade Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

“Hey. I know this car.” You think as you come to stand in front of a vehicle on display that happens to look strangely familiar. Smoothing your hands down the skirt of your sundress, you manage a quick side-step, narrowly avoiding a collision with a small child who was too busy enjoying his ice cream cone to pay attention to where he was going. 

You’ve been wandering around Fulton County’s annual Classic Car Showcase for the better part of an hour now, and so far things were going better than you’d expected. And not only that, but you were even beginning to have fun.

“I can see why this one caught your eye.” A familiar voice muses as he comes up behind you. 

“I’m trying to figure out where I’ve seen it before. But I’m drawing a blank.” Angling your body, you reach for one of Ari’s big hands, grasping it with both of yours. “Any ideas?” 

“You really don’t recognize it?” 

“‘Fraid not.” Your lips purse as you continue to wrack your brain. 

“It’s an exact replica of The General Lee, the 1969 Dodge Charger driven by Bo and Luke.” 

“Who?” You stare up at him confused. 

That earns you a chuckle, followed by him placing a gentle kiss atop your head. “Bo and Luke. From The Dukes of Hazzard. It was a popular show back in the eighties.” He explains, brushing a stray curl away from your face.

“Oh. Got it.” You nod, pretending to understand. “Mystery solved.”

You both stand there a few moments longer – mostly so he can admire the engine, or whatever the hell you assumed he was doing. Once he’s looked his fill, it’s apparently time to move on to the next car that catches his interest. You’re seemingly content to trail behind him until you happen to spot a nearby cluster of tents. 

“Ari?” 

“Yeah, little Bird?” The rich timbre of his voice has you smiling before you even realize you’re doing it.

“I reckon all this car hoppin’ has me feelin’ a little parched.” You tell him, turning your attention to the concessions located just across the lot. “I’m gonna go fetch myself a lemonade real quick while the lines are short.”

As expected, your man responds without missing a beat. But not before leading you over to the shade so that you can continue your conversation. Which was a good thing seeing as the temperature outside was hovering around the mid-eighties.

“Well, we can’t have that now can we?” Mirroring your smile, he brings your hand to his lips so that he can kiss the ridges of your knuckles. “Let’s go get you somethin’ to drink.”

“Hey, it’s okay. I’ll go while you hang out here in the shade.” Your palms come up to rest against the hard wall of his chest. “Besides,” you continue when he opens his mouth to object. “It’s not like I’m going far. I’ll just  be right over there.”  

“Nah.” Ari swiftly disagrees, adjusting his sunglasses. “How about you wait here while I go get us both something to drink?”

“Are you sure?” 

“Yep.” He gently flicks the tip of your nose. “After all, what kinda man would I be if I left my sweetheart out here to melt?”

“I mean…if you insist.” Rising on your toes – a feat made easier thanks to your wedge heels – you plant a smooch on his bearded cheek. “Hurry back, sugar.” 

Now that he’s officially a man on a mission, Ari wastes almost no time making a beeline for the concessions. But not before issuing a stern warning to you, his curious little Bird.

“Don’t you go wanderin’ off on me, darlin’.” He growls, leaning down to tenderly peck your lips . “I expect to find you right here in this spot when I come back.” 

And then he’s gone. You barely have time to respond with a playful salute before he’s striding off in search of sustenance for you both. Leaving you alone to twiddle your thumbs while you dutifully await his return. 

Not that you minded. If anything, grateful for this brief respite from the heat. It never crosses your mind to abandon your spot in favor of looking at more cars. At least, not until you spy one that has you gasping in pure delight.

“Woah.” You breathe as you come to stand in front of the one vehicle with the power to transport you straight back to your childhood: a 1958 Plymouth Fury.  

Better known as the car from Stephen King’s novel, Christine. 

You’d absolutely loved this movie as a kid. So much so that your Uncle had bought you your own personal copy after he got tired of renting it for you weekend after weekend. Why, you must’ve seen it over a hundred times. 

But as luck would have it, your private glee is interrupted by the sound of a voice coming up behind you. 

“She’s a beaut, ain’t she?” The man asks, his southern drawl growing even more inviting when he tips his black stetson. “Restored her myself.” 

“Holy crap! It looks just like the one from the film.” You chirp, reaching out to run your fingers along the shiny finish before swiftly thinking better of it. “Sorry.” Is all you can manage as you turn to face him. “I just…never thought I’d get the chance to see it in person.”

“Well…” The dark haired cowboy admits, flashing a chagrined smile. “It’s not actually the car. But it’s pretty dang close. Took me a few years, seeing that pretty smile of yours makes it all worth it.” His smile only grows wider as he holds out his hand to you. “The name’s Russell, by the way.”

You two spend a few more moments exchanging names and pleasantries before he politely redirects the attention back to the prized vehicle in front of you. Russell invites you to ask all the questions you like, only to laugh when you eagerly take him up on his offer. 

In fact, you’re enjoying the conversation so much that you hardly notice when he slowly begins inching closer to you, his leanly muscled frame almost boxing you in. He was charming – you’d give him that much. And easy on the eyes.

Russell was the type of man who warranted a second look. Or at least he would. That is, assuming you hadn’t already been blessed with the gift of Ari Daniel Levinson. 

“You know,” He murmurs, his cool gaze warming as he boldly peruses your dress. “Something tells me this conversation would pair wonderfully with a glass of wine.” His hand reaches for yours once more. “Perhaps over dinner?”

“Oh, I’m sorry...” The shocked apology comes tumbling out of your mouth. “I–I can’t. I actually came with someone. He’s–”

“Look, I don’t wanna be too forward.” Russell smoothly interrupts, stroking his thumb along the ridge of your knuckles. “But I haven’t been able to let you out of my sight since I saw you damn near an hour ago. Honestly can’t remember the last time I came across a woman as sweet as you.”

“That’s awfully kind of you to say.” You reply, intending to let him down easy.

“I saw that fella you were with.” He continues in earnest, still refusing to relinquish his grip on your hand. “Also saw him walk off and abandon you too.” 

“He didn’t – no one abandoned anybody!” Closing your eyes, you can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of the entire situation. You weren’t used to men hitting on you like this. It has you feeling way out of your depth. 

“Be that as it may, I also believe in fate.” His already gravelly voice dips an octave. “I mean, I’ve come to this showcase year after year and never once have I met someone like you.” 

“I…I’m not sure I’d go that far.” You hedge as you weigh your options. 

On one hand, you really did want to be polite. But you also needed to be firm. You already had a man in your life. A man who owned you – mind, body, and soul. Not that you’d had any say in the matter. But these days, you were well past complaining about the handsome Beast of a man you’d come to cherish.

“Think about it.” Your would-be suitor implores, giving you a gentle squeeze. “There has to be a reason our paths crossed today.” 

Alright. It was officially time to put a nail in this coffin. You open your mouth to respond, only to have someone else beat you to the punch. 

“I think it’s about time you let go of her hand.” Ari rumbles, the sound coming from somewhere deep in his chest. “Now.”

“Something I can help you with, buddy?” Russell responds without hesitation, clearly annoyed by the other man’s sudden reappearance. “Because the lady and I were in the middle of a conversation.”

“And I’m sure it was a great one.” Your bounty hunter is too busy glaring at his apparent rival to pay you any real mind. Although, he’s quick to shove a cup of what you suspect to be lemonade into your palm the second Russell releases his hold. “Too bad it’s over now. Let’s go, sweet Bird.” 

The ice in his tone is enough to make you shiver. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Ari was none too happy to find you entertaining the company of another man. But the last thing you’d expected was for him to be jealous. 

Unless you were reading things wrong. 

“I’m afraid you’re gonna have to wait, fella.” Russell surprises everyone by coming to stand almost nose-to-nose with Ari. “Because she and I were about to take the ride out for a little spin.” 

“We most certainly were not.” You try, impatiently tugging on his arm. “Ari, let’s just go.” Although, you’re not surprised when you end up being completely ignored. 

“Oh yeah?”

“Guess that’s what happens when you abandon a pretty little flower like her all alone in an empty field.” Grinning like a Cheshire cat, Russelly makes a point of poking your man in his chest. “I’m just glad I was lucky enough to be here to catch your mistake.”

Worry fills you when you see Ari simply nod along, his brawny shoulders wrought with tension. Sucking on his teeth, the bounty hunter briefly looks away as he forces himself to take a calming breath. Not that it seems to help any. 

“You know what? I get it. No, really–I do.” Ari smirks, reaching up to lightly scratch at his jaw. “I knew what I was getting into, walking into a showcase like this with a beautiful woman on my arm, wearin’ the hell out of that dress.” One thick arm wraps itself around your waist, hauling you close. “My girl turns heads everywhere she goes. She’s just too sweet to realize it.”

Tucking you behind him, your man bridges the last bit of distance between himself and Russell. And while you can’t see his face, you’re shocked when he gently lifts his rival’s hat from his head, before tossing it in the direction of his forgotten plymouth. 

“And sometimes that sweetness makes cowboys do stupid fuckin’ things.” Ari continues, sounding almost smug. But you don’t miss the danger in his tone. “Which is why I’m gonna be the bigger man right now and walk away, before I give into the urge to find out if you have what it takes to make the long drive home with a fractured arm.”

“Alright, that’s enough from you two.” You snap, finally fed up with all this male posturing. After all this nonsense, you just wanted to sit down and enjoy your drink before all the ice melted. “Russell, cool car. But I’m not interested, okay? And as for you, Ari…”

In lieu of responding, your man chooses to quirk one impatient, tawny brow. 

“You’re looking a little flushed. I think it’s time we got you outta the sun.” Grabbing his wrist, you proceed to physically drag him away from the scene. It takes virtually all your might, but you’re grateful when his legs finally begin to move.

You don’t stop walking until you reach a set of picnic tables that are far enough away from the show to give you both some much needed privacy while you hashed things out. 

“Darlin’, I can tell by your face you’re fixin’ to yell.” Ari growls, yanking his arm out of your grasp. "And I'd like to make my case before you start." His frown only deepens as he watches you perch on the edge of a bench, but not before taking a dramatic sip of your ice cold lemonade. 

It tastes divine – the perfect treat for a hot summer’s day.

“Did you really have to throw the poor man’s hat?” You ask, fanning yourself.

“Probably not. But it felt good.” He shrugs, jamming his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Should’ve stuffed his ass in the goddamned trunk while I was at it.” 

“I don’t know what you think you saw, but I was in the process of letting him down easy.”

“Could’ve sworn I told your bratty self to stay put where I fuckin’ left you.” His normally clear blue eyes glitter dangerously, letting you know that he’s pissed. “I mean, it was bad enough waitin’ in line listening to two idiots talk about which one of ‘em was gonna be brave enough to ask for your number…”

“Yeah right.” You scoff, looking up at the sky as you pray for patience.

“Roll ‘em at me one more time, baby. Swear to God.” Scrubbing a hand over his jaw, he finds himself wondering for the umpteenth time just what the hell he’d been thinking bringing you to something like this with you wearing a dress like that. “I’m just itchin’ for a reason to lift that skirt and redden your disrespectful ass.”

In Ari’s mind, you were always the prettiest girl in the room. But on a day like today? You were downright irresistible. And what made it even worse is that you honestly had no idea the effect you had sometimes – on him and damn near every other man who came into your presence.  

“You can’t talk like that!” You hiss, hoping that you weren’t being overheard. 

“And just why the hell not?”

“Because we’re in public, you Beast!” 

Rising to your feet, you set your drink on the table, deciding it might be better if you put some distance between you. Too bad Ari chooses to follow, walking you backwards until you feel yourself collide with the base of a nearby tree. His hands come to rest on either side of your head, effectively caging you in with his much larger frame.  

“I should’ve known what I was getting into the moment I decided to let you walk outta the house wearing that dress.” Ari rasps, trailing his nose along the delicate column of your throat. “I thought I was safe, even with that lacey little scrap of nothin’ you’ve got hidin’ underneath.” 

You barely manage to stifle a moan when your man captures your bottom lip between his teeth, sucking hard before releasing it with a soft pop. One of his hands leaves its purchase to settle dangerously low on your hip. 

“But I see now that’s not enough for you, is it baby?” You press your thighs together when that same hand moves once again. This time working it’s way under your skirt - his short, blunt nails dancing along your skin as his mouth hovers a mere centimeter above yours. “I’m not sure why you thought it might be a good idea to tease me like this. Not too keen on you flirting with other men.”

“I promise I wasn’t.” Your eyes flutter closed as he grinds his growing erection against the softness of your belly. “I just got excited about the car. It’s from one of my favorite Stephen King stories.” 

“Is that why I found you two holdin’ hands?” You let out a whimper when you feel the roughened pads of his fingers dig into your heated flesh, making you squirm. “Because you were excited?”

It wasn’t often that your man got riled up like this. But when he did there was almost no getting through to him until he calmed down. If you were lucky, you could typically drag him to some place quiet, away from prying eyes and listening ears.

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry, sugar.” Leaning up, you press a kiss against the corner of his mouth. “I suppose I wouldn’t like it either if I saw you holding hands with a random woman. Promise it won’t happen again.” You add, weaving your arms around his trim waist after all you receive is a grunt for your trouble. 

Although you can’t help but notice that some of the tension seems to have finally left his shoulders.

“Thank you.” 

Ari allows his forehead to rest against your own as he struggles to collect himself. Wanting more, you cup his face with your hands, bring his mouth down for a much needed kiss. His eager tongue dances with yours, demanding more of your submission as the passion builds.

You’re both breathing hard when you finally come up for air. However, you realize your man’s not done. At least not yet. 

“You’re enough to drive a man insane. You know that?” He groans in between soft, yet feral kisses. “I swear I try to be progressive – I do. I got sisters. A niece.” A sound almost like a purr rumbles in his chest as he nuzzles his nose in the crook of your neck. “But I’m also man enough to admit I’ve got a bit of a jealous streak. Never was much of a problem until I met you.”

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.” You murmur at the same time as your pussy spasms, dampening your panties with your slick. 

“Good.” Ari lifts your leg, hitching it around his waist and not giving a damn about who sees. “And Bird?”

“Uh huh?” A shiver courses through you as he begins covering your exposed flesh with tiny, possessive love bites. This time you make no move to stop him. Thank goodness you’d had the foresight to pack some concealer.

“I hate to break it to you.” His mouth finds yours once more, deliberately teasing you with each sensual stroke and flick of his tongue. “But you and me, we’re not gonna make it back to Bell’s Creek tonight.”

“And w–why is that?” Your eyes threaten to roll back in your head as his fingers find your clit, toying with the swollen nub through the soaked fabric of your panties. 

“Because I’m having the damnedest time trying to talk myself out of fucking you hard and fast on the hood of my truck.” He responds with an unapologetic shrug. “But I suppose I’ll just have to settle for a hotel, huh?” Grinning, he increases the pressure on your sensitive bundle of nerves, loving the way you buck and writhe beneath his touch.

“I’ll start hunting for reservations.” You move to reach for your phone even as you feel your vision blur and your toe s curl. “But whatever you do…oh God…just please don’t stop.”’

END

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[writesvani]

coming down | teaser

collegestudent! gojo x collegestudent! reader

SUMMARY: You and Gojo Satoru were once everything to each other, but now, the space between you is filled with nothing but silence and resentment. College is just a reminder of how far you’ve drifted apart, and every encounter only adds fuel to the fire.

You avoid him like the plague, but it doesn’t matter. You can still feel him in the shadows, always there, always watching, as if the past was never really gone. So what do you do? You (try to) keep your distance, pretending it’s easy to forget the history that’s weighed you down for so long.

But deep down, neither of you can let go. And as the tension between you grows, you’re forced to confront the truth: some things are never truly buried, no matter how hard you try.

best friends-to-friends with benefits-to-enemies-to- enemies with benefits-to?

TWs (for this chapter): underage use of marijuana and cigars, underage drinking, use of illegal substances, anorexia and obsessive dieting, calorie deficit, mentions of self-destructive behavior, angst, emotional manipulation and trauma, toxic friendship dynamics, self-esteem issues and body image, unresolved romantic tension, past betrayal and unrequited love, sexual harassment (implied in some interactions), foul language and explicit content, derogatory language, including use of "puss" and other insults, toxic romantic relationships and behavior, references to manipulation and control in relationships, most characters are morally gray, flawed, and engage in problematic behavior, complex, imperfect characters who make questionable decisions, characters often act in ways that challenge traditional moral boundaries and ethics. 

THESE CHARACTERS ARE NOT MEANT TO BE PERFECT AND IDOLIZED.

comment here for Coming Down taglist;

SERIES M.LIST

— next chapter

wc: 2,4k // date: 4th of March 2025

TEASER — Wicked Games; proceed with caution...

AN: OKAY OKAY OKAY WOW HERE SHE IS. i don’t know what the hell I’m writing - i mean i do but i don’t if that makes sense - this, this fanfic is literally gonna be my baby. it’s inspired by a lot of people i know, it’s partly inspired by my life as well - not gonna tell you which bits of it tho haha. but i’m so excited. honestly this isn’t even chapter one - i’m thinking more of it as a teaser for what’s about to come and when i tell you a lot is coming you better believe it. but this is going to be a part of me - something raw and something real and i know this won’t be an easy read - as you can see by the triggers but i truly, really hope you guys will like it as much as I enjoy writing it. because i’m obsessed. i just got sucked in by y/n and gojo’s dynamic of hatred and toxicity, they’re on my mind 24/7.

i love them.

i hate them.

i wanna be them and i’d hate it if i ended up becoming them at the same time.

love, vani 🩷

"No, I’m not going."

"Yes, you totally are."

"No, I’m not, Yumi. I’m dead serious."

"Y/n, for the love of Christ, I love you, but if you don’t stop bitching about it right now, there will be consequences. Now, get your ass up and get ready," Yumi huffed, arms crossed.

You narrowed your eyes before rolling them—more dramatically than you intended. Not your most mature moment, but being forced to go to that party, in that house, didn’t exactly put you in a good mood.

"Look, Yu, I don’t care about that stupid party your—what’s his name again?—boyfriend is throwing for us. Truthfully, I’d rather be buried alive in that creepy graveyard we smoke pot in. Alone. No pot. You get my point."

"His name is Nanami," she deadpanned. "And he’s throwing us a party for our birthday, which we share. It’s not like I have the option to skip it, you know. Besides, we always celebrate our birthday together."

Yumi’s voice softened as she tilted her head, giving you that look—the one she knew you couldn’t resist. "Please, please, please. Let’s just go, smoke some weed, listen to those weird-ass tunes you play when you get too baked, wait for midnight, blow out the candles, and leave. Bonus points if Nanami fucks me tonight."

She smirked before adding, "Plus, Gojo’s gonna be there, and everyone knows about your little crush on him."

You scowled. As if that could make this stupid party any better.

But again… she wasn’t wrong.

Somehow, in the middle of a crowded classroom filled with acne-scarred faces and nervous energy, you and Yumi ended up sitting together. two total strangers. two tangled-up disasters shoved into plastic chairs, thrown together by sheer chance or some kind of cosmic joke.

She was tall and slim, chain-smoking weird American cigars in the school’s piss-scented bathroom stalls during five-minute breaks.

You liked her immediately.

She liked cigs.

You liked pot.

She liked Arctic Monkeys or any other type of music that ended up overplayed by overdramatic tumblr girls at midnight.

You listened to Trilogy like it was gospel.

She didn’t give a shit about school. Skipped class constantly to drink cheap coffee at some run-down café that reeked of nargila and regret.

You somehow pulled good grades—yet skipped with her anyway, so she wouldn’t feel lonely.

And then, the kicker.

You shared the same birthday.

Same day. Same year. Two hours apart. What were the odds? Some kind of cruel cosmic irony, maybe. A glitch in the universe where it spat out two unhinged messes at the same time, doomed to find each other.

You weren’t sure.

All you knew was that Yumi was fucked up.

She didn’t eat. Didn’t sleep. Just smoked.

Cigs and all.

Pot and all.

You, on the other hand, slept too much. Ate just enough—tracking every bite to make sure it fit inside your carefully calculated calorie deficit, of course.

And yeah, you were fucked up too.

But at least you weren’t alone.

You were fucked up together, and somehow, that made perfect sense.

And now, after years of being two walking disasters—two mistakes of nature (and probably your parents' biggest regrets)—you are finally in college.

What you didn’t expect was Yumi getting a boyfriend. And sticking to him. Yumi didn’t do relationships. they were too much, she once told you.

Too heavy.

You understood. Why let anyone waste their time trying to fix something that wasn’t fixable? Why let anyone peel back the layers when there was nothing to find? no deep-seated trauma, no unspeakable tragedy, no emotional constipation. just plain, old you—coasting through life on gold marlboro touch and iceberg salad.

You assumed Yumi felt the same. you used to get each other.

But now? Yumi had a boyfriend. And not just any boyfriend—some weirdly handsome senior that got every girl on campus tripping over themselves. A guy who, for some unknown reason, had decided to settle down with the second-year that half the school had definitely jacked off to.

And you?

You were still there, of course.

“You know what? Fine,” you finally huffed, shoving your hands in your pockets. “We’re going. But—” you held up a finger, “The shit he’s getting better be good or i’m out. And—” another finger, “Btw, how is The Weeknd ‘weird girl’ music? The best music to get high is literally from an artist who made it while high. like, really?”

Yumi just raised an eyebrow, already knowing she’d won.

“And—” your third and final finger shot up—“One condition. No Gojo. Np looking at him, no talking about him, and god forbid, talking to him, okay?”

Yumi grinned like the little devil she was. She knew she had you.

And she loved it.

You’re going. and somehow, somehow, you already know Yumi’s going to break the Gojo rule. And you already hate yourself for saying yes.

Gojo, Gojo, Gojo. That foxy, smirking little minx you’ve somehow tucked away in a small, stupid pocket of your heart. Nanami's best friend.

Stupid hot and wicked smart.

One look from Gojo Satoru and half the campus is already on their knees, mouths open, waiting for the tip to slide in. one touch, and you’re pretty sure girls would be cumming fully clothed.

Truthfully? You get it.

Gojo has that whole walking sexual fantasy turned nonchalant icy prince thing going for him. you would’ve hitched your skirt up and let him fuck you senseless too—if he asked.

Would’ve.

But Gojo Satoru did something no other man had ever dared to do.

He bruised your ego.

You’d never admit it, of course. Not out loud. Not even to yourself. But the way his offhanded you’re not my type had clutched at your chest, had sunk deep into the tenderest, most pathetic part of you—yeah. It stung.

Who the hell was he to say you weren’t his type?

Yes, fine, he was hot. Really, really hot.

But so were you.

You’ve got that thing going for you—the great student, everyone loves me act, while secretly (well, not so secretly, except to your oblivious teachers) getting high and fucking emotionally unavailable men on the weekends.

Your favorite trope, honestly.

You’ve got those pretty—as guys love to say—puppy eyes and that lethal eyelashes combo that makes people practically eat from the palm of your hand.

So why the hell would he say you weren’t his type?

For fuck’s sake, Gojo Satoru fucks anything with two legs and a vagina.

And the cherry on top? He didn't even say it to your face. No, he just let those humiliating little words slip at some party you weren’t even at.

Thank god for that. You’re pretty sure you would’ve died right then and there if you had to hear those ridiculous words fall from his pretty pink lips in real time.

But of course, Yumi—your second-in-command, your ever-dutiful bringer of bad news—had called you immediately.

Campus sex god gojo satoru, not finding you attractive enough?

The scandal.

To make things even worse, you’re pretty sure everyone knows you’d totally give it to Gojo Satoru.

You may have drunkenly admitted it—once, before the whole “not his type” fiasco—to some random girl in a club bathroom who smelled way too much like puke and way too little like vanilla.

And of course, of fucking course, the gossip spread through campus like wildfire before you could even try to kill it.

So yeah. going to your own birthday party?

Humiliating.

Annoying.

Absolutely a horrible idea.

But still… there’s this slow burn inside of you, this creeping anticipation.

The kind that tells you tonight might just be interesting.

And a little drama never hurt anyone, right?

…Right?

—

Nanami's house is not what you expected.

You don’t even know what you expected, but definitely not this.

Yumi did mention he doesn’t live on campus—he’s one of those guys, apparently. Still lives with his parents or something.

Lame. Booo. Throwing tomatoes.

Because seriously—what twenty-something man still lives with his parents?

But you definitely didn’t expect nanami’s house to be this posh.

Or this proper.

Or this… fucking expensive.

Because, what the actual fuck—nanami is rich.

Like, could-buy-you-off-the-dark-web rich.

Probably in exchange for the mahogany table you’re currently pouring tequila shots on.

Or maybe just for that obnoxiously huge, icy couch stretching across the living room.

or, hell, even for his kitchen alone.

What. The. Fuck.

But then—on that same absurdly expensive couch—something else catches your eye.

Legs sprawled out in the kind of lazy man-spread that screams confidence, scrolling through his phone like he owns the place, is a man.

Dark.

Tall.

And very, very hot.

Something dark and thrilling rushes through you at the thought of dragging him into Nanami’s parents’ bedroom and riding him until he can’t take it anymore.

But before you can act on it—

“Geto Suguru.”

Yumi’s voice is in your ear, a warning.

“He has a girlfriend, so don’t even try.”

Her fingers tug at your elbow. You retaliate immediately, poking her ribs in response.

He looks up.

His shadowy eyes roam over you—slow, deliberate.

A half-smile, half-smirk tugs at his lips.

Ha.

There he is.

Good boy.

He wants it.

He wants you.

"Well, I don’t see her here, do I?"

Your voice is a whisper, teasing, as you throw a smirk at Yumi before stepping forward—gracefully, leg before leg, closing the space between you and him.

He’s still sitting.

You don’t even have to look at his face to know he’s already watching you.

Slowly, your eyes travel downward.

The soft material of his white polo stretches taut over the sculpted lines of his stomach, the fabric clinging in all the right places. Your gaze lingers, just a second too long, before moving up—finally settling on his lips.

For a moment, there’s silence.

Then, just as the tension starts to settle, he shifts—fumbling with the left pocket of his jeans.

You blink.

…Okay.

Not so hot anymore.

What the hell is he doing?

But then—

but then—

he pulls something out.

A white tissue—crumpled, worn.

You almost scoff, about to ask if this is some weird, half-assed magic trick—until you see it.

Tiny specks of green peek through the folds.

Your breath catches.

Weed.

A lot of weed.

Holy fucking shit.

You swear your mouth waters.

It’s tucked inside that questionably old tissue—and you pray, dear God, that he didn’t blow his nose in it.

Then, in that slow, deep voice—smooth like velvet, laced with a promise—he finally speaks.

"Five grams. Homemade."

He speaks for the first time, and in that moment, you're absolutely sure you're about to get high off his pot—and then, well, he's going to be the one getting high off you.

"Heard you smoke. Thought you’d want to."

Geto’s voice is low, his words soft, but the way his arm brushes your hip bone—effortlessly, casually—sends a spark through your veins.

Some might say it’s a coincidence.

But you know better.

Nothing, nothing, is ever a coincidence when it comes to men like him.

And now, now, you want it even more.

Before you can say anything, someone else interrupts.

“Yo, Suguru, I’ve been watching you all night, man. Why the fuck you sitting in the living room like some NPC loser?”

You scoff, catching the teasing tone of the voice.

"Satoru, you’re stepping on my last nerve again. Let me chill for a bit. I wanna mentally prepare before rolling with all you incompetent losers," Geto responds, his voice still calm, but there's a hidden edge to it that makes you think he doesn't mind the banter.

"There, there, boy. I just missed my best friend so much I had to see why you left the billiard room, you know? Just love spending time with you, bestie."

"You know, licking my ass won’t make me give you some of this before I try it myself. Plus, I’ve got company, as you can see." Geto’s voice drips with annoyance, cutting through the otherwise tense air in Nanami’s living room.

You don’t need to turn around to know exactly who’s standing behind you. His presence is undeniable, his scent suffocating in the best way, and that energy—God, that energy—that pulses in any room he steps into.

And then, of course, there’s the voice. That annoyingly attractive, rough drawl that always gets under your skin.

“I can see that, but I still don’t approve of you ditching your homies for some cheap pussy,” Gojo says, the mockery clear in his voice.

And that’s when you finally, finally, decide to acknowledge the elephant in the room.

What the fuck?

What. The. Actual. Fuck.

Sure, being told you weren’t his type stung—but this? Calling you cheap? Who the hell does this guy think he is? What gives him the audacity to insult you to your face—well, more like to your back, but still, it stings all the same.

A chuckle rumbles through the room. You don’t stop yourself in time. You hear your own voice, but it doesn’t feel like yours anymore.

How dare he. After everything—after all the hurt he’s caused you.

Again. And again.

You tell yourself it doesn’t bother you, yet the words slip out before you even realize what’s happening.

As if you could have stopped them. As if you could have ever stopped anything with him.

After all, Gojo Satoru always had a knack for pushing your buttons exactly the way he wanted.

“Cheap, but could make your dick hard by one high school kiss in your mom’s closet. Could make you whimper out my name in your favorite teacher’s classroom. Could make you cum down your uniform just by biting your lip. We’re a little past being cheap, don’t you think Sato?” 

Because before all of this—before the "not his type" catastrophe, and your drunken confessions—there was you.

And there was Gojo.

Best friends since birth. A bond that was never supposed to break. But then came senior year—the year everything changed.

You made a mistake. The terrible, stupid, earth-shattering mistake of letting things blur into something more. You slept together. Multiple times. You told yourself it was just a phase. Just a mistake. But deep down, you both knew it was more than that.

But no. There was an even worse mistake than all of this.

Falling in love.

And then, the biggest tragedy of all: letting each other down.

You weren’t supposed to end up here. But somehow, here you are. Caught in the wreckage of a love that never really had a chance.

[nebulaafterdark]

Exile (Part 8)

Summary: Y/N Undersee thought the games were over after becoming a victor. Unfortunately, life outside the arena has become just as dangerous. Prequel to Moves & Countermoves. SOTR SPOILERS

Trigger warning: forced prostitution, explicit sexual content, alcohol abuse and other mentions of trauma. 18+ ONLY

Part 7

“I’m tellin’ you somethin’s goin’ on with Y/N. The way she’s actin’.” The footage they’re showing of that little girl mentoring the games, makes it look like she’s having the time of her life. “That ain’t her.”

“You need to leave now.” Y/N’s father insists, attempting to close the front door between them.

“Valor, please.” Cherry presses her hand against it. “She’s your daughter.”

The mayor’s eyes narrow, full of rage. “Do you think I’ve forgotten that? Don’t you think I’ve tried to buy her way out? Barter and plead her way out? She’s my daughter, for god’s sake!”

“So what then? You just give up?” Tucker places his boot between the door and its frame.

“My daughter will be home from the Capitol any minute.” Valor reminds them. “After which time, I have one year to come up with a solution that doesn’t end with my entire family dead. I advise you to do the same.”

Tucker yanks his boot free of the slamming door. “Prick.”

“What do we do now?” Haymitch doesn’t have any family left. No real friends. Just that girl and him, exiled in Victors’ Village.

“There is someone who might know something, but it’s a long shot.” Burdock hasn’t spoken to Haymitch in years. Not since Haymitch started pelting him and his girl with rocks.

Doesn’t matter who it is. “It’s the only shot we’ve got.”

————————————————————————

Burdock and Asterid are not expecting visitors. So when there is a knock at the door after supper, Burdock answers, warily.

Waiting at the stoop is their neighbors from a few blocks down. Cherry and Tucker Carell, lost their oldest in the games a few years back.

“We need to speak with you about Haymitch Abernathy.”

Burdock steps out onto his porch, floorboards creaking beneath him. “What about him?”

“I remember you were close as kids.”

“We’re not kids anymore.”

“Please,” Cherry cuts in. “It’s Y/N. I know you don’t know her, but we do…we did.”

“The laryngitis girl?” Haymitch’s wife.

“Yes,” Cherry snaps her fingers. “She said she lost her voice because she didn’t want them usin’ her words to glorify somethin’ she didn’t believe in.”

Burdock sighs, “I am very sorry for your loss.”

Their loss. They’ve lost that girl.

“We want to get her back.” Tucker explains.

“I hate to be the one to tell you this, but you can’t. Once a person belongs to them, there’s no turning back. Whatever is happening to her…cannot be undone.”

“That’s not true.” It can’t be.

“Haymitch was my best friend.” Burdock presses on. “He changed, and I don’t blame him. For all he lost…the things he’s seen…”

“Did it happen all at once? The change in em?” Cherry asks.

“No.” Burdock admits, “it took time.” The drinking didn’t help.

“This happened in a week.” Tucker points out.

“Are you sure it is her?” Burdock mutters.

“Who else would it be?”

“I don’t know how true this is,” Burdock clenches his jaw, “the person who told me was…indisposed at the time. But there was a tribute from twelve, reaped for the Quarter Quell who was killed in the parade. They replaced her with a girl who looked enough like her…”

“A body double?” Cherry’s brows pull together.

“She had something in her ear to control her. They could speak into it and even pump some kind of medicine through it.”

“Some kind of bug.”

“Must’ve been.” Burdock nods. “Haymitch said it would bleed.”

“Haymitch told you this?”

“Like I said, I don’t know how true it is. He wasn’t well. But Wyatt Callow died before her,” or so the story goes. “Louella’s casket smelled a lot worse than his when we buried them.”

The silence hangs heavy between them. 

“You seem like good people,” Burdock says, “and I am truly sorry you’re wrapped up in all this. Please be careful, or people are gonna start dropping like flies again.”

Tucker tosses an arm around his wife, leading her away. “Thank you for your time.”

Burdock watches them go, with a heavy heart. To the victor go the spoils.

Cherry and Tucker make their way back home, leaning into each other as they walk.

“We gotta do it.” Run. This could be their last chance.

“We can’t take her.” Not like they wanted to. Not the way they planned it before.

Tucker hangs his head, staring down at the ground. “I know.”

Can’t even tell her goodbye.

“This is what she would want.” He reminds his wife. “The little girl who showed up on our doorstep with flowers for our boy and a gift for each of his siblings. She would’ve wanted us to go.”

“We could leave her somethin’ at least.” Cherry suggests, “a letter.”

————————————————————————

“We’re packin’ just a couple things, like we talked about.” Cherry reminds her children.

“When are we leaving?” Micah, her second oldest son, asks.

“After dinner.” Tucker tells him.

“Can I take my bear?” Peach, their youngest, newly six, holds up her favorite stuffed animal.

“Of course,” Cherry taps her nose. They’ve already packed up everything the little ones would need.

Interdistrict travel is strictly prohibited, but Cherry’s mother was always telling stories about when she was a girl. ‘Free as birds, we were. There’s life outside these districts, Cherry. Don’t let them tell you otherwise.’

District thirteen was said to be destroyed by the Capitol, turns out that isn’t true. A couple of their friends have trickled out to test the waters, sending signs that the coast is clear. They were only waiting for Y/N to get home.

Cherry sits down at the table, paper and pen in hand.

‘My dearest, Y/N.

I’m afraid there’s been a change of plans. I once suffered from some delusion that Tyson’s memories are tied to the walls of this house. That some part of him resides in the bones, buried outback. But I was wrong. My son is not trapped in a place, or a body or even this earth. We are.

Trapped in a district the president has no love for. Where children are starved and slaughtered for entertainment. There’s got to be more than this. We’re going to find it, for our boy, for all of our children, for you.

We tried waiting for you, couldn’t bear leaving you behind. I can hardly bring myself to do it now, but you belong to them. And they will never let you leave.

I know, in my heart, that if the girl we opened our home to and love like our own is still inside you; she’ll understand. I hope we find each other again, somehow, someway, in a new, free world. But for now we’ve gotta go and you’ve gotta stay. We’re still rooting for you, little girl.

Love always,

Ma, Pa, Tyson, Micah, Hudson, Rixi, Adelaide, Hoytt, Valley, Iverson, Olivette, Harvest, Fauna, Wells and Peach.’

When she is finished, Tucker raises the letter to eye level. Resting a hand on her shoulder as he reads it over, then folds it in eighths. Taking the pen in his own hand to jot down, ‘burn after reading.’

“I’m going to sit with Ty for a while before we go.” Cherry tells him, leaving the note and their simmering stew, in his care.

“Alright, baby.” Tucker presses a kiss to her cheek as she passes.

Cherry treks through the house and out the back door. Tyson’s headstone is decorated by a beautiful arrangement of wild flowers. Each picked by hand. She all but collapses onto the ground beside him.

“Tyson, I need a sign.” She murmurs into the evening breeze. “Tell me I’m doing the right thing.”

Nothing.

Even the electric fence beyond the yard is silent. Silent because it’s off.

Knocking from the front door carries through the house. Cherry rises, brushing dried grass and dirt from her dress. “Tucker, who is that?” She closes the back door behind her, watching her husband peer through the peek hole.

“It’s Y/N.”

————————————————————————

When Y/N is finally permitted to leave, Cherry and Tucker are left with a truth much more devastating than any hypothetical they’d considered.

Y/N is still herself.

Fully aware; in her own body.

What controls her now is the fear of losing people she loves.

“We can’t leave her. Not now, not like this.” Cherry whispers.

Tucker covers his mouth. “Cherry, I put the note in her pocket.”

“What? Why?”

“Because nothing changed,” he takes her face in hand. “All we’re doing by staying here is giving Snow more leverage against her. Are you willing to put the blood of every name you signed in that letter on Y/N’s hands?”

“No,” Cherry shakes her head.

“Neither am I.” Tucker huffs, “we have to do this now. Like we planned, the fence is off. It’s now or never.” He doesn’t want to do this, he has to do this.

————————————————————————

Valor is still pacing in the foyer, after his unexpected visit from the Carells. Given their status, they’re not being watched by the Capitol very closely, if at all. They may be able to help Y/N in ways he can’t.

Donning his coat and shoes, Mayor Undersee sets out to visit the seam. The stares he receives from those who reside there are not the kindest. Still he waves and offers a quiet, “hello.”

There’s some commotion, near the far end, the very house he’s headed for. Smoke and screams greet him as he rounds the bend. The Carell house is on fire.

“Get up! Everyone, out of your houses. There’s an active fire. We need water.”

————————————————————————

Y/N is still holding the letter when Haymitch wakes the next afternoon. She’s so far gone that she doesn’t even realize he’s behind her, until a pair of arms encircle her waist.

“They’re gone.”

“I’m so sorry, angel.”

“They left,” Y/N waves the proof at him. “The fire was a distraction.”

Haymitch inspects it carefully, reading over the letter twice, before clearing his throat. “Gotta get rid of it.” Too damning all around.

“I know.” Her fingers clutch the corner.

“Come ‘ere.” Haymitch turns her away from the fireplace. Slowly working the parchment free from her hand. “Hold onto me instead.”

She does, desperately fisting his shirt in her hands.

Haymitch tosses the evidence into the fire, watching flames eat away at the words, until there is nothing left. He keeps her close, shuffling backwards toward the sofa.

“Don’t go anywhere, Haymitch.” Y/N says, softly.

Haymitch mulls it over for a moment. Hoping that some great words of comfort and encouragement will flood his brain. But there is no divine intervention, just the weight of her head against his shoulder. “I won’t.”

“Hold onto me instead.”

Taglist: @spideysimpossiblegirl @ancientbeing10 @1-800-styles @l3xi3luv @lam-ila @druby2011-blog @liballer @readinginthe-am @rae-11 @champomiel @mariechristine00 @solacestyles @inky-sun @dadbodfanatic-x @sandorcleganeslutt @indigoashh @mustainelove @darkened-writer @ch3rrybutterfly @boredomquest @theladyofmanyfandomsofficial @kisskittenn @kwllakka @feeblemindedfool @oopsieikilledan @that-one-fangirl69 @just-levyy @thisisthepartwhereishutup @alixxhere @quackitys-amor @pepelachanel @lurkingsparrow @faithalsip09 @cwallace02sblog @animaloversammy @peachiesnsilk @libbyaller @juiceboxfullofslime @libra-2409 @heidiland05 @evansorry @caraxes-syrax

[alsofoundinpeas]

I Don't Need To Know

Summary: Spencer Reid has no choice but to watch the love of his life fall in love with another man. 

CONTENT WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI!! This fic is intended for adult audiences. Major character death. HEAVY angst. Bittersweet ending? Graphic depictions of violence (for maybe two lines). Fingering (f receiving). P in v sex/unprotected sex (in terms of a condom, birth control is mentioned). Loss of virginity (both m and f). Creampie (god I hate that word ugh!!). Slight age gap (roughly five years). Argument scene that may be triggering for readers that have experienced SA or manipulation from a partner (nothing of that nature actually happens, but just in case).

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader/afab!reader

A/N: This is inspired by Will He by Joji, so I highly recommend listening to it while reading. I cried several times while writing this, but I felt it needed to be done so here it is. :’) Please tell me what you think! If you enjoy it, please like, reblog, and share it with your friends! <3 Thank you and I love you all :) (I also ask that my work not be uploaded to other platforms or translated without my explicit permission. Thank you!)

I got knots all up in my chest… Just know, I’m trying my best…

Spencer had always found the saying “If you love something, set it free. If it comes back, it’s yours. If not, it was never meant to be” absurd. He couldn’t fathom willingly letting go of something he loved on the off chance that it would come back to him. Not after having everything he’d ever loved ripped from his clutches throughout his lifetime. To him, love wasn’t about releasing someone to see if they’d return. It was about holding on as though his very survival depended on it—like a feral cat finally finding food after days of hunger, sinking its teeth in and never letting go, no matter the cost. 

It wasn’t until today that Spencer finally understood the meaning of that stupid phrase. And he wished with every intricate thread of his being that he didn’t. 

Five years. Five long, agonizing years had passed. So why was he here now? Why, after what felt like an eternity of pleading for just one more moment with her, did the universe decide now was the time to give him what he wanted? 

Ironically, the timing only drove home another phrase he’d always hated: “Be careful what you wish for.” 

There she was, as beautiful as the day he’d met her, sitting in the corner of what had once been their favorite café. The sunlight streaming through the windows catches on her ring, the enticing glinting of the jewelry drawing his eyes away from her face momentarily. His heart is in his throat. She’s still wearing the wedding ring he’d given her, twisting it in the same nervous fashion she always used to. 

And there across from her is a man that isn’t him making her smile. 

‘Cause when you look… When you laugh… When you smile… I’ll bring you back…

Spencer Reid had never been a particularly angry man. He had his moments—who didn’t?—but he usually considered himself level-headed, patient. But now, watching Y/N hide a bashful smile behind the rim of her mug as she gazed at the man across from her, all Spencer could feel was rage. Raw, unbridled rage. It flared up inside him as her head tipped back, the sound of her laughter crashing over him like a tidal wave, stirring his veins with a violent rush. The same sound he’d yearned to hear again for five fucking years. And it was all because of him—Ben. 

That was his girl. His perfect, beautiful girl. The love of his life. His angel. 

All Spencer could do was stand there, feeling every broken shard of his non-existent heart pierce his chest. 

And now I’m sad… And I’m a mess… And now we high… That’s why I left… That’s why I left…

It wasn’t meant to be like this. Spencer had never wanted to leave her. But that choice wasn’t his to make. 

That cold, cruel September night six years ago had robbed Spencer of his very existence. 

Everything that could have gone wrong during that case did. The bullet wasn’t meant for him, but he took it anyway. He had traded his life in exchange for JJ’s. It wasn’t even meant to be heroic. It wasn’t done out of love. It was just instinct. It’s who he was as a person. 

Was. 

The word leaves a bitter taste in the back of his throat. Because that’s his reality now. He was a person; an agent, a professor, a son, a husband…

Now he’s… well, that he didn’t quite understand. As a man of science, Spencer was stumped by what he could even call his existence now. Calling himself a ghost felt silly—he felt as alive as the day he’d died. And yet, that was essentially what he was. A whisper of the person he’d once been. A soul caught between worlds. 

Spencer could still feel the exact moment his soul wrenched free from its physical tether to the world. Even recalling it sent a shiver down his spine. It hadn’t been peaceful, as so many people claimed in interviews. No… it had been agony in its purest form; white hot and searing as his very essence clawed its way out from his ribs. There was no light waiting for him to step into it and find peace.

Instead, he had watched helplessly as the team he called his family swarmed his dead body, uselessly screaming for a medic as the crimson puddle underneath him grew and smeared beneath their hands as they knelt beside him. He had watched Y/N swing open their door that fateful night, the excited grin on her face vanishing as she came face to face with a tearful Emily instead of the husband she’d been eagerly waiting for. And he had watched the guilt eat away at JJ as their eyes met at his funeral, the hatred on Y/N’s face so raw it made Spencer’s own stomach twist. 

Despite the Bureau's insistence, she took charge of every detail—planning his funeral in a way that honored everything Spencer would have wanted. Y/N held Diana as she wept over her baby boy's body. She delivered a eulogy that left even Spencer in shambles. She was the first person to arrive and the last to leave, waiting until everyone had left to sink to her knees beside his casket and howl her grievances. 

For that first year, Y/N was as strong as she could be during the day. She handled everything that needed to be done, as long as the sun was still up. But when night fell, and the suffocating silence of their empty home settled in… that’s when she’d finally let herself break. 

Spencer had never been a religious man, but the year after his death felt like an endless descent into his own personal hell. He would never escape the sound of those gut-wrenching screams. He cursed whatever force had condemned him to an eternity where he could do nothing but watch, powerless as Y/N crumpled to the floor night after night, her wails so desperate it seemed as though she thought breaking the sound barrier might somehow bring him back to life. 

All he could do was stay beside her, silently pleading for his touch to somehow reach her, his hands brushing over her again and again, unnoticed and unfelt. 

Time was no longer a concept to Spencer. 

The limits of his existence perplexed him. He couldn’t roam freely, couldn’t go where he pleased—he could only follow where Y/N went. It was as if his very soul was bound to hers, linked by some invisible string that kept him tied to her even in death. It brought him both joy and sorrow: joy in the fact that he could still watch her, still admire the way she carried on, and sorrow because she would never know he was there, silently urging her forward, so incredibly proud of her strength. 

The longer he lingered, the more control he gained over his abilities. It started with the smallest things—a strand of hair lifting with the brush of his fingers, a faint chill against her skin as he cradled her face while she slept. But soon, it became more. Doors creaked open as he stepped into rooms behind her, and objects shifted ever so slightly from their places when he pushed with just enough force. 

There were times when she seemed to sense him—moments Spencer cherished more than anything. In those fleeting instances, it felt as though she could see him, even though he knew she couldn’t. Every day, rain or shine, she visited his grave, and when she spoke to him, her gaze would drift forward, as if she were looking into the honey-colored eyes she once loved. Her hands would rest open in her lap, as though she knew he was holding them. When she was home, she’d speak aloud every thought that came to mind, as though she knew he could hear every word that fell from her perfect lips. And he always responded as if she could hear him in return. That was their new life for the first year after his death. 

After a year and one day, he was gone. 

That’s where his understanding of the phrase “If you love something, set it free. If it comes back, it’s yours. If not, it was never meant to be” came from. It was because she had set him free. 

One whole year had passed. The hardest year of Y/N’s life. She had knelt by his grave, laying fresh flowers with trembling hands, her tears falling freely for hours. When she finally stood to leave, her legs unsteady beneath her, she pressed a soft kiss to his headstone. Through her tears, she whispered how much she missed him, how he never left her thoughts, and how she’d never stop loving him—but above all, she wished he could be at peace. And on the night following the anniversary of his passing, her wish was granted. He had faded into nothingness, existing only in her dreams and memories for five long years. 

But now, he was back. Because he had always been hers. 

Will your tongue still remember the taste of my lips? Will your shadow remember the swing of my hips? 

Spencer remembered their first time like it was yesterday, though he wasn’t sure if he could thank his eidetic memory or the fact that it was because of how remarkable it had been for the memory lingering so vividly...

“You’re lying! You’ve really never had sex before?” 

Y/N squawked the words incredulously as she sat atop Spencer’s lap, grinning down at the stammering mess of a man beneath her. Spencer’s hands flexed against her hips, unintentionally squeezing as he took a deep breath to calm himself. 

They were inside Spencer’s apartment, having enjoyed the museum and dinner but still craving each other’s company too badly to end the night there. What started as sweet, innocent pecks pressed up against the kitchen counter had quickly devolved into ravenous, passionate kisses that had them stumbling towards the couch. It was going so well… until Spencer panicked after Y/N had whispered into his ear asking how far he wanted things to go. 

That resulted in him spewing out the fact that he, at twenty-six years old, was a virgin.

“No, I haven’t! Why is that so hard to believe?” Spencer huffs, his small smile belying his annoyed tone. 

It was their sixth date total in a span of four months, but it was their first date as an actual couple. Spencer had reluctantly agreed to let Penelope set him up on a blind date after his failed attempt at taking JJ out had shattered any of the confidence he’d built up, leaving the man petrified of taking his chances romantically again. He suspected Penelope’s pity for him was why she was setting up said date to begin with, but he quickly found himself grateful that he went. 

Y/N had been friends with Penelope for years, having bonded online over some indie punk rock band that was no longer around and developing a close friendship from there despite their age difference. When Penelope found out Y/N had moved to Virginia and was single, she couldn’t resist setting the two up. 

It’s Y/N’s turn to stammer as she quickly thinks of a response. “I, uh… you’re just so handsome that I naturally assumed you’d had sex before.” 

Spencer blinks up at her skeptically, trying to detect even the faintest clue that the otherworldly woman in his lap was lying to him. All he found was nervous adoration as she stared back down at him, her cheeks flushed a beautiful shade of pink. It suited her. He wanted to cause it more often. 

“I had, um… I graduated super early from both high school and college, so I didn’t do much dating.” 

Instead of the judgment Spencer expected to see spread across her face, Y/N simply just hummed in understanding, her eyes curious as they watched him. He’d elaborate more on his unfortunate (for lack of a better term) adolescence later. For now, he just wanted to keep from scaring the poor girl off of his lap so he could taste her sweet chapstick again. 

“I see…” Y/N murmurs before continuing, shifting forward slightly with a smirk. “I’ll let you in on a little secret. I’m also a virgin.” 

Spencer’s eyes widened almost comically as he gawked up at her. His heart stutters in his chest, his mouth going dry. His tongue pokes out in a meek attempt at wetting his lips, his voice cracking as he responds. 

“Et tu, Y/N?” 

Oh fuck. Spencer hadn’t meant to let the lame reference slip from his mouth. She just made him so nervous that he couldn’t think straight, and Rome had been heavily on his mind since she had perched herself in his lap. Specifically Roman goddesses, because she looked like she should be amongst them on their thrones. Surely she was going to leave now—-

Loud, genuine laughter bubbles from Y/N’s lips, the noise startling Spencer as she tips her head back and her hands grip his shoulders to stabilize herself. She thought it was funny. She thought he was funny. 

“That’s, like, the last thing I expected you to say,” Y/N managed once her laughter had simmered down into giggles. “But, to answer your question… I too have really never had sex before.” 

Spencer knew that it wasn’t due to a lack of suitors. The woman was sex personified; the archetype of beauty and seduction wrapped into one perfect being. The twitching in his pants brought his attention back to the situation at hand. He could ask her later why that was. For now, he brought his focus back to her. 

In an uncharacteristically bold move, Spencer tilted his head up to brush their noses together. “Would you… would you want to?” 

It didn’t take a profiler to notice the hitch in her breath or the almost imperceptible squeezing of her thighs around his hips. Her pupils were already blown, her lower lip trembling from what Spencer prayed was anticipation and not regret as his question settled over her. The silence stretched between them, the seconds feeling like hours in Spencer’s overly anxious mind. 

He’d done it now. He’d gone off and opened his stupid mouth and frightened the one woman he could actually see himself having a future with because the head straining against his zipper overruled the head housing his supposed genius level IQ. The apologies were already forming in the back of his throat, but they weren’t needed because she— she was kissing him? 

“God, yes. Please,” Y/N murmured eagerly against his lips, effectively clearing every cohesive thought from his brain. 

If Spencer thought her words were enough to bring upon his undoing, he was sorely mistaken. The grinding of her hips against his erection ignited something inside of him that he had no idea existed. It was feral, drowning out all of his other emotions and replacing them with one thing: primal, unfiltered desire. 

Spencer understood now why men used to start wars over women. 

With each gasp that fell upon his ears, Spencer pledged his allegiance to her. Every stuttered moan that came into existence from his hips rutting up into her clothed core fueled his devotion to her. It was animalistic, the way his hands gripped her ass and pulled her tighter against his body as his mouth devoured her now, every cell swimming through his veins screaming for more. More of her touch, more of her taste, more of her sounds... God, those heavenly sounds that had Spencer finally believing in salvation, if only in the form of her skin against his.  

Tongues danced together as layers were hastily stripped away. Layers of insecurity. Layers of self-doubt. Layers of uncertainty. Their clothes fell to the ground as though the fabric burned them, clumsy hands fidgeting with buttons and tugging at zippers with a vendetta. 

Those layers that had crumbled so easily were replaced instead with the firm knowledge that this was exactly where they were meant to be: in each other’s arms, trembling and panting as their world’s trajectory tilted so violently it uprooted them from their upright position, knocking them down against the leather cushions as their bodies attempted to mend their separated souls back into one. 

Spencer choked on the words he wanted to worship her with, so instead he used the most primitive sense he could to get his message across: touch. His lips sucked purpling reminders into the crook of her neck of what they both knew to be true now: He is hers just as much as she is his. Lithe fingers tugged the soaked fabric of her lace panties down until they landed in a heap with their other clothes. Those same fingers pause at the crest of her most intimate spot, his eyes meeting hers with a silent plea. 

Y/N found herself in the same position, her words failing her as they were strangled in her throat by the overwhelming adoration she felt for the man hovering above her. Instead of chanting her desire for Spencer to please touch her, she canted her hips up in approval. 

Her moans were swallowed by swollen lips that claimed the sound straight from her body as nimble fingers dug themselves into the deepest parts of her. Their rhythm was clumsy but steadfast, her hips bucking against his hand in jerky movements as the palm of his hand pressed against her clit. Spencer’s own hips ground against the bare skin of her thigh, shielded only by the immature fabric of his equation-covered boxers. 

Spencer hadn’t for a second thought the night was going to go like this. If he had known he’d have the definition of art itself clawing at his shoulders and panting into his mouth while he made her legs tremble beneath him, he wouldn’t have worn what he deemed his lucky boxers. At least they had done their job, he supposed. 

Their lips separated completely as a guttural moan wrenched its way from Y/N’s throat, her body beginning to thrash wildly underneath him as the tension in her lower belly coiled tighter. Spencer wouldn’t allow her first time to happen on his couch. She was much too precious for that. But he’d already made the decision to unravel her at least once while they were there, to bring her over the edge before taking her into his bedroom so that he could experience the glorious sight of her falling apart more than once tonight. 

Spencer was a virgin, not a prude. He’d seen porn before. He’d read erotic novels. Anything he could use to try to prepare himself for the real experience, he did. But nothing could have prepared him for the downright visceral reaction Y/N had as his fingers curled and brushed against the rough patch of skin inside of her that caused the tension building in her body to snap. Her cries of pleasure tore through him as her pussy clenched around his fingers, his free hand leaving its place beside her head to keep her thighs pried open. He quickly shifted up onto his knees to watch her taking his fingers as she came, taking the pleasure he inflicted upon her. 

He sang her praises while slowing his pace, cooing softly at her as he stroked her hair and worked her through the aftershocks of her orgasm. Only when she was squirming and whining beneath him did he finally remove his fingers, sucking them into his mouth greedily. Y/N’s mouth gaped open as her chest heaved, her eyes locked on Spencer as his tongue lapped over his fingers, enjoying her essence with a groan. Her body sagged into the couch, a delighted laugh spilling from her exhausted frame as she smiled up at him, her eyes twinkling in the dim light of his living room. 

“Do you still want to keep going?” Spencer breathed as he gazed down at her, his cheeks flushed and eyes full of something that made Y/N's heart flutter. “B-because we can stop there if you want. I just… I want to do what makes you happy.” 

Above her was the man she’d recognized, soft and timid, but now with a newfound air of confidence in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. Above her was the man that she wanted more than anything. Above her was the man that she knew, without a shadow of doubt, would be her husband. 

“Spencer… if you don’t fuck me right now, then I’ll die a virgin, right here on your couch... and it will be all your fault.” 

Spencer’s hearty chuckles filled the room, his nose twitching as he grinned down at the dramatic woman. He simply couldn’t let that be her fate, could he? 

Shaking his head, he stooped down to press a gentle kiss to her nose before standing from the couch, offering her his (clean) hand. Y/N’s face twisted in confusion as she stared up at him, still reeling from the earth-shattering orgasm surprisingly given to her by the same man who’d eagerly rambled about the lore behind Doctor Who on their first date when she’d mentioned she hadn’t seen it. 

“Not here, silly girl. The bedroom,” He whispered. 

He guided her down the dark hallway as though he were escorting the most priceless treasure known to man to his bed, and in his eyes, he was. His hand stayed steady on her hip as she swayed lightly, her body pressed into his side as he opened the door with shaky hands. Any confidence Spencer had managed to muster throughout the night vanished as they crossed the threshold into his bedroom, his teeth gnawing at his lower lip gently as his courage began to crack. 

In an almost startling display of being seen, something Spencer had never experienced before, Y/N looped her arms around his neck and tugged him into a kiss that simultaneously stole the breath from his lungs and filled him with the air he needed to breathe again, effectively calming his nerves.

“It’s okay,” She reassured him against his lips. “It’s just me.” 

She walked them backward until the backs of her knees pressed into his cool comforter, taking over where Spencer so willingly handed her the reigns while he regained his momentum. She sat on the edge of his bed, her hands pressed into his hips to keep him from following after her. Her eyes met his, the moonlight streaming through his bedroom window illuminating her as though she were a vision, a figment of his imagination that he’d conjured up in the dead of night, ready to haunt his every waking moment once he inevitably woke up to an empty bed. She was too good to be true. 

Spencer’s hands fell to rest on her shoulders, just to give himself proof that Y/N was real and that he hadn’t dreamed her up or somehow followed in his mother’s footsteps and succumbed to early onset schizophrenia. 

She was real and she was here, eye level with the tent in his boxers and naked as the day she was born, her warm breath fanning across the smattering of hair trailing down from his belly button to below his underwear. His muscles tensed and twitched as she smirked up at him, pressing a tender kiss to the head of his cock through the thin fabric. His entire body flinched from that one touch, his brows furrowing together as he hissed quietly. 

“N-not that I wouldn’t love to feel your mouth on me—“ Spencer’s pitch raised as her hands found the elastic of his waistband, pulling his boxers down his legs. “But I… I won’t last if you do.” 

The fondness in her eyes quelled any humiliation he felt from having uttered those words. 

Placing a kiss to his hip, she nodded in understanding before shuffling backwards to lay in the middle of his bed, with him kneeling onto the mattress after her. The sight of her— stretched out and languid and looking at him as if she wanted to ravage him— had him sending up a silent ‘thank you’ to whatever in the universe had deemed him worthy enough of having this divine of a woman in his life. 

As Spencer reaches for his nightstand to grab a condom, Y/N stammers, grabbing his attention. He watches for a moment as she flounders over her words, his brow furrowing in concern at her sudden diffidence. 

“Are you sure you still want to do this?”

“I’m on birth control if you want to skip the condom!” 

Spencer inhales sharply at the same time she smiles sheepishly up at him, her blurted words almost making him finish before they’d even started. He holds her gaze, tracing her irises for any hint of hesitancy. When he finds none, he nods once, swallowing hard. 

“I— uh. Um...” 

It was rare that Spencer Reid was rendered speechless, but Y/N had managed to do it with just eleven words. He clears his throat, trying again. 

“Yes. Yes, I would like to skip the condom. Only if you’re absolutely sure that’s what you want.” 

“Yes. It is. I pinky promise.” 

Y/N holds up her pinky for him, the sight so endearing he can practically feel his heart melt away, dripping in a sticky mess inside him. He just grins, linking his pinky with hers before he moves to settle over her once more. 

Her fingers tangle themselves in his hair as his elbows dig into the mattress beside her ribs. The flushed head of his cock bumps against her clit as he reaches down to line himself up at her entrance, a small whine leaving her lips at the sensation. He repeats the action, dizzy from the sound of her soft noises. She was still soaked from their time on the couch, a small feeling of pride welling in Spencer’s chest at the knowledge that not only did he make her cum, but he’d kept her wet while they made it here. 

His lips meet hers in a searing kiss, the both of them quivering with anticipation at giving themselves so intimately to someone for the first time. He was happy it was her. And she was happy it was him. 

Spencer couldn’t remember a time where his mind had ever been quiet. All he knew was incessant thoughts and worries, unable to put a halt to the chaos jumbling around his brain. But as he pressed forward and sunk into Y/N for the first time, his entire mind went blank. White static crowded the spaces where various facts and tidbits of information had been stored, the only thing he was able to focus on now being the sheer ecstasy coursing through his body from being inside of her. 

His mouth hung open as his eyes rolled back into his head, his hips stilling as they pressed flush against hers. She mirrored his response, squeaking out an “oh!” as her walls fluttered around the intrusion instinctively. He throbbed in response, his head dropping to rest in the crook of her neck, unable to stop the pitiful whimper that escaped from behind clenched teeth. 

She was so tight. So wet. So warm. 

Sparks of pleasure zinged up and down his spine as he remained still, waiting patiently for Y/N to adjust to both his size and to the feeling of being filled for the first time in general. He’d wait as long as she needed him to. All he wanted was for her to feel good. To enjoy this as much as he was. 

He was a humble man, truly. But even he wasn’t too shy to admit he’d been gifted with a size that was bigger than average. Not necessarily just in length, falling just shy of seven inches, but in girth as well.  

Spencer peppered soft kisses up and down her flushed skin, feeling her rapid pulse beneath his lips. He was sure she could feel his own heartbeat pounding against his ribs from where their bare chests were pressed together. Her nipples were taut, pressing into his skin enticingly. He wanted to touch them. Taste them. But he’d wait until she was ready. He didn’t want to overwhelm her. 

At her gentle nod, Spencer lifted his head to press his forehead against hers, their lips brushing together as he pulls his hips back. The sensation of her grip tightening in his hair as he pushed forward does more to him than he’d care to admit, but he still lets her hear just how affected he is by her. With a shaky moan, Spencer repeats the motion, easing out of her before gently rocking back into her. He keeps this up for a few minutes, her sharp breaths dissolving into muted moans of her own. 

“You can— you can move faster if y-you want.” 

Spencer’s eyes flutter shut at her words, and he’s pressing a fervent kiss to her lips before he begins to really move. The sound of skin smacking together begins to fill the air as he ruts his hips into hers, his walls bearing witness to every pleasured noise that spills between them. His pace is frenzied, his rhythm stuttered, but it feels so good that neither of them really care. 

Y/N’s nails roamed his body now, alternating between dragging harsh lines into the planes of his back and burying into his shoulders to leave little tender half moons in their wake. Spencer yearned to pull every single noise that he could from her throat, planting his hands beside her head and hefting himself up for better leverage before his lips wrapped around her right nipple. He sucks harshly at the pert bud, reveling in the desperate whimper it causes. 

Spencer grunts when she clenches around him, letting his mouth glide over to her neglected breast, his hips hammering into hers now as she cries out his name over and over. He was close… so, so close. But he needed to make her cum one more time before he’d allow himself to. He needed to know what it felt like for her to fall apart around his cock. With every ounce of willpower he had, Spencer slows his hips to a stop inside of her. 

Y/N whined her discontent at his sudden pause, her eyes opening to blink hazily up at him. “Why’d you… why’d you stop?” She panted, her fingers finding and twisting her own nipples as if she couldn’t help but to touch herself. 

Spencer muffled a curse at the sight, sitting back on his haunches as he stared down at the woman beneath him with reverence. 

“Flip onto your stomach for me, angel.”

She does as instructed, wiggling her hips coyly as Spencer grabs a pillow from the head of the bed and stuffs it underneath her hips to prop her up better, ensuring she’d be comfortable. Once she’s settled on her front, Spencer wasted no time in pressing himself back into her, both of them releasing a moan so loud he’s surprised the walls don’t shake. Thank God he didn’t have neighbors right now. 

He eased himself down so his chest is pressed to her back, lavishing her neck and shoulder in open mouthed kisses while his hips drilled into her. This angle was deeper, allowing him to plow directly into her g-spot as she writhed and begged incoherently beneath him. He laced his left hand with hers, shoving them into his mattress. His other hand stuffed itself between the pillow and her wriggling body until the pads of his fingers found her clit, his breath coming out in sharp pants into her ear. 

Y/N felt delirious with pleasure, bucking her hips back in a feeble attempt to meet his. He began whispering into her ear about how good she felt around him, thanking her for allowing him to fuck her, praising her for taking him so well… 

His words paired with his fingers circling her clit have her second orgasm ripping through her body with so much ferocity that tears begin to fall down her cheeks, her eyes squeezing shut and her hand clutching his so tightly her knuckles whitened as she wailed into a pillow, gushing around him. 

Spencer let out his own guttural moan at the feeling, spilling into her with a shout as he planted his head between her shoulder blades, his hips weakly thrusting into her as they rode out their climaxes. 

He held her until her tremors stopped. He kissed her forehead before he darted off to the bathroom to get a warm rag to clean her with. He thanked her in soft whispers as her eyes began to drift shut before he’d even finished cleaning his mess between her thighs. 

And he knew, watching the gorgeous woman before him sleep so soundly in his bed after they’d just defiled each other’s innocence, that he was looking at his future wife. 

Will your lover caress you the way that I did? Will you notice my charm if he slips up one bit? 

The air was thick with tension as Y/N stared at Ben, her chest heaving and eyes watering at the hurt look on his face. Spencer watched from the corner, his concern for his wife outweighing the jealousy he had previously felt when he watched the couple slip into her— though he still selfishly thought of it as their— bed. Y/N had been dating Ben for three months now. That made for three months that Spencer ached so heavily he’d sometimes wish he could fade back into nothingness if it meant he didn’t have to watch the love of his life with another man. 

The furthest Ben and Y/N had gone physically was a few pecks here and there, with Y/N always being the one to draw away and cut the kisses short. Ben had played the nice guy act, reassuring her that he understood her hesitance and that he’d be okay doing whatever she was comfortable with. Spencer despised him. He could see right through Ben’s facade, and if he could do more than nudge a door open, he’d make that hatred known. But he couldn’t. 

Spencer watched on with furrowed brows as Y/N reached a shaky hand over and turned the lamp on her nightstand on, illuminating the dark room in a soft glow that contrasted with the dark energy that began to cloud the small space. Spencer could see it all on Ben’s face: hurt, betrayal, anger. He could see the fear, guilt, and shame on Y/N’s. 

This was the first night Y/N had tried to push past her discomfort so that she could offer Ben more than just false promises of physical intimacy. It started slow, with soft kisses that dissolved into hungrier ones as they laid together in the dark. But the second Ben went to roll on top of her, sliding a hand down her body to pull her hips against his, she panicked. Her body jolted, and her hands had shot out instinctively to shove him off of her, leaving them where they were now in some sort of silent standoff. 

Spencer knew as soon as it had happened just why it did. She had thought of him. His guilt overruled the smug pleasure he’d felt as he watched it unfold. As painful as it had been watching Y/N move on with her life, all he ultimately wanted was for her to be happy. Spencer had been barely thirty-five when he passed, and she had only been thirty. That left almost an entire lifetime ahead for her, and even though he so desperately wanted to have lived that lifetime with her, he had to accept that that wasn’t what fate had in store for them. 

“I-I’m sorry-”

“What the fuck is your problem?” 

Spencer’s jaw tightened at the same time Y/N’s dropped. 

��Excuse me?” Y/N leveled Ben with a narrowed glare, rage flashing in her eyes in place of the shame that had just been there. 

“I get that you have a dead husband. I’ve tried to be patient with you. But fuck! It's been six years, Y/N. It’s time for you to move on,” Ben seethes, his face reddening with a mixture of embarrassment and anger. “I can’t even touch you without you flinging me off of you!” 

It’s as though Y/N is the exact physical embodiment of Spencer’s own emotions, physically reacting in the way that he can’t. She was out of the bed before Spencer could even blink, marching over to the bedroom door and yanking it open. Ben watches in bewilderment, his mind clearly not catching up with what was happening. 

“Get out of my fucking house.” 

Y/N’s voice is cold as she stares menacingly at Ben. When he doesn’t move, she speaks again, her voice louder. “Get out of my fucking house, Ben!” 

Ben stammers, standing from the bed and attempting to plead his case. “Babe, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that, I just-”

“I don’t care. Get out of my house,” Y/N repeats herself, cutting off his pathetic excuses. 

Spencer smirks proudly from beside her.

 That’s his girl. 

Ben sighs, hanging his head and scrubbing his hands frustratedly across his face. 

“If you kick me out over some guy that’s been dead for six years, then we’re over. For good.” 

Spencer cackles at Ben’s proposition, though it can’t be heard by either party in the room. That was his attempt at fixing things? Seriously? Good riddance. He’d drag the guy out of there himself if he could. 

“If I haven’t made myself clear, we’re already over. No one talks about my husband like that. Now get out before I call the police and have you escorted off of my property.” 

It doesn’t take long after that for Ben to tuck his tail and leave, slamming the front door on his way out. Y/N’s steam runs out the second his car pulls out of her driveway, tears streaming down her face as she curls up on her couch. 

Spencer’s own chest twinges uncomfortably as he sits beside her, stroking her hair despite her inability to actually receive the comfort. He didn’t know what hurt more; watching his beautiful, broken girl sob and not being able to stop her tears, or being the cause of the tears himself. He had to do something, anything to let her know he was still there and that he still loved her beyond death. 

The same time Spencer stands is the same time Y/N’s tears pause, a hiccup rocking her frame before she glances up. 

“Spence?” Y/N calls softly. Spencer’s heart would have stopped right there had he not already been dead.

Spencer turns slowly from his place at the end of the couch, his eyes wide and hopeful as he responds. “Yes, angel?” 

His hope fades as he realizes she isn’t looking at him, rather her eyes are just darting around the room. 

“Spencer I… I know it’s been awhile since I’ve talked to you. And for that, I’m so sorry,” Y/N starts, her voice cracking. “I don’t know if you can even hear me. Or if you ever could. But I miss you. I miss you in my bones. I just… you were— are my everything.” 

The lump in her throat grows as the tears begin to stream down her face again. Spencer’s own eyes sting with tears that she’ll never see drip down his face. He swallows hard, making his way over to their— yes, their— bookshelf. 

“I’d give anything to have you back in my arms… I should have begged you to leave the BAU and just teach full-time if it meant I could still have you here, safe and at home. It’s not even a home without you.” 

Y/N sobs freely now, tucking her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them before she buries her head into them. 

Every ounce of grief, guilt, sadness, and anger from what his death has done to his precious girl fuels Spencer to do something he deemed impossible: he yanks the leatherbound notebook holding their vows inside of it off of the bookshelf, sending it tumbling to the ground in a desperate attempt to show her that he’s still there and that he still loves her. 

The noise causes a yelp to slip from Y/N’s lips, her head jerking up as the book hits the hardwood floor with a loud thump. It had fallen open exactly to where Spencer wanted it to: the page starting his vows to her.  Y/N crawled from the couch to the book, her trembling hands lifting the journal so that she can read the words her husband wrote to her ten years ago. With a deep exhale, she sits cross-legged on the hardwood floor, reading Spencer’s chicken scratch he called handwriting with a heavy heart. And for the first time since his casket closed, she feels a sense of peace wash over her. She was going to be okay, despite it all, because he was hers just as much as she was his.

Continued A/N: Ahh!! Ghost!Spencer my beloved. :') JUST TO CLARIFY: I am not a JJ hater!! It just fit better for the story to have her be the one this all happened for. I hope you guys enjoyed reading this fic just as much as I enjoyed writing it. I look forward to sharing more in the future with you as my blog grows <3

K <3

[themuseofaphrodite]

can’t turn back now ✧ OB87

summary: ollie bearman may be the most popular boy in his year, but even he has trouble with asking his crush out on a date. 

trigger warnings: suggestive content, swearing

word count: 1.1k

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Only three more days remained until the winter formal, and Ollie Bearman still hadn’t asked his crush out. It was so embarrassing, how his throat dried up and his hands became extra clammy whenever he was around you. He’d tried at least seven times, but it was like a spell was cast every time he attempted to bring up the conversation. You were so beautiful, with cinnamon ringlets and bright green eyes, and a laugh that sounded like twinkling bells. It wasn’t just your beauty that made him dumbstruck; you were super smart and funny too. On top of that, you never hung on to him or made him feel as if he was being used for a leg up in the social pyramid of school. You were special, and he wanted you to know that.

How would he do that, though?

He didn’t want to be too sappy, because you’d told him before that grand romantic gestures repulsed you. “It’s too similar to a romcom. Cute, but it should stay on a telly screen.” That crossed out every idea he had so far: a big bouquet of flowers sent to your dorm, writing a puzzle in the school newspaper for you to solve…

“Hey, Ollie!” you called out, jarring him out of his thoughts. You jogged up to him with a big smile plastered on your face as you asked, “Are you ready for this weekend?”

Ollie blushed. “Yeah, kind of. All my friends have dates, so I’ll probably be seventh-wheeling if things don’t change soon.”

“Aw, Ol,” you mock-pouted. “Poor you, most popular boy in year twelve. And you can’t find a girl to ask out? I think I know at least ten who’d gladly accept your offer.”

The only girl I want to ask out is you, but I can’t fucking talk when I’m around you, he thought frustratedly. “Yeah, I have someone in mind. Just, um, waiting for the right moment.” He tilted his head to look down at you, a shy smile dancing on his lips. “What’s up, though, Y/N?”

“Oh, um, I was wondering if you knew whether we had an exam in literature today. Penny keeps telling me we are, but I think she’s tricking me.” Your best friend Penny loved making you panic over exams, since she knew how seriously you took them. This time, she’d roped all your other friends into her prank, so you weren’t sure if you should take her for her word or not. “Do you have any idea if she’s right? Or did she get to you too?”

Ollie shook his head. “No, I don’t think we do. Professor Gilliam would have told us for sure.” “Yeah, on that damn cursed blackboard,” you responded, nodding your head in agreement. “Fucking Penny keeps lying to me. I’m so annoyed.” “Sorry, Y/N,” Ollie said apologetically, bouncing back and forth on the balls of his feet. He curled his hands into fists, preparing himself for what he would do next. “Anyways, I had a question of my own to ask you. Um…”

You looked up at him, subconsciously leaning forward like Ollie was about to tell you a secret. “Don’t tell me you stole Gilliam’s planner and you want my help to hide it.”

Ollie laughed, but it sounded shrill and fake to his ears. “No, definitely not. Um, it’s something else.” He worried at his lower lip, thinking how best to phrase this. “The winter formal is coming up, and I was wondering…” 

You blinked up at him, still confused. 

This is the point of no return, Ollie mused internally. Please God, don’t let me fuck this up.

“I was wondering if you would do me the honors of being my date?” he finally spat out, the words clipped and almost indecipherable.

Your face froze in shock, jaw dropping a moment later as your brain processed what Ollie had said. “You…You want me to be your date?” you stammered out.

Ollie nodded, panic starting to well up in his gut, his fight-or-flight response activating the longer you didn’t say yes. He steeled himself, willing himself not to bolt or melt into a puddle of mush on the pathway where you stood. “Yeah. If you want. If you already have a date, I understand. It’s totally OK, Y/N, if you don’t want to go with me.”

“Oh…Ol…” You looked up at him through your eyelashes, clasping your hands behind your back. “Of course I’d like to be your date. I was wondering when you’d grow the balls to ask me out.”

A surge of relief flooded through Ollie and he let out a long sigh. “Thank God. I was worried I’d have to change my name and leave the country, that’s how mortified I’d be.”

“You think I’d really say no to you?” You questioned him, crinkling your nose. “That would be the dumbest thing I’ve ever done, and I once cut my own bangs.”

Ollie rubbed the back of his neck, still in shock. “Your bangs are beautiful, Y/N.”

“Yeah, now that I let a professional cut them,” you shot back, giggling. “Not all of us can have perfectly styled hair all the time, Bearman.”

“I might have perfectly styled hair, but you’re fully perfect in my eyes, L/N,” Ollie retorted, his chin jutting out defiantly. “I didn’t ask out those other girls because I knew I wanted to ask you.”

You put your hands on your hips, beaming like a beautiful ray of sunshine. “Yet it took you almost a fortnight to do so. Imagine.”

“You try asking your crush out to a dance, and then you’ll see.”

“I almost had to because you were such a scaredy cat!” you chortled, nudging Ollie playfully on the shoulder. “But it worked out. Guess I’m stuck with you for a while now, hm?”

Ollie elbowed you back. “Hey, Y/N! I’m not that much of a hassle. You know you adore me.”

“Sure, Bearman. Whatever lets you sleep easy at night,” you teased lightheartedly.

“Don’t even deny it. Why else would you stick by me? For my social status? You and I both know you don’t care about that. So, it has to be my charm and good looks.”

“Someone has an ego,” you chaffed. “But you’re not wrong. It’s something about that dopey face that really drew me in.” Thank you, God, for giving me the courage to ask this girl out and the charm to be approved by her, Ollie thought to himself, suppressing a smile as he listened to you talk.

He absolutely could not wait for Saturday to arrive.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

[ponderingmoonlight]

Hello Carina! I absolutely ADORE your works I'm hooked Was wondering if you could do Geto/Nanami/Gojo/Sukuna x fem reader who grew up in a toxic household that encouraged bad eating habits like eating extremely small amounts and tried to always make her a good and docile wife. But she left them and is now pretty successful but her eating habits are still pretty bad Please stay hydrated this summer!

A lot of you guys request stuff like bad heating habits from me and I'm actually a little scared that I receive a shit storm for writing these sensitive topics, but there you go! I decided on Geto since he is the sweetest boy ever but if this goes well and some of you guys show interest, I might write something similar for the other characters as well - enjoy <3

Geto encouraging his girlfriend to eat more after growing up in a toxic household

Pairing: Geto x fem!reader

Word Count: 1,6k

Synopsis: After your toxic parents tried to force you into their picture of a thin and docile wife, you left them as soon as possible and became the best version of yourself - if it wasn't for your bad eating habits still haunting you down when you're out with your boyfriend. Until he decides to have a talk with you...

Warnings: Just let me tell you right from the start that there's nothing wrong with being thin and I hope it's obvious that we're talking about an unhealthy connotation in this fic, if you get triggered when it comes to toxic parents and hurtful phrases regarding weight please don't read this. In general, this contains sensitive content and a few pieces of ED and harsh language, but our boy Geto telling us how much he loves us the way we are

„You know you are totally able to eat more than that, right? We’ve been out without any food for hours now, you need to care for yourself, love.”

Suguru’s hand gently caresses your back while you stare at the salad you just ordered.

“You’re gonna look like a pig soon if you don’t stop eating like one, (y/n). Didn’t I teach you a lady needs to watch her diet?”

“No man wants a fat woman, trust me.”

“Thank you so much for looking out for me. I’m good”, you mutter after shaking their cruel words off your mind.

You can’t bring yourself to catch a glimpse at his comforting brown eyes, not when your guilty conscience almost eats you up alive. The stinging words of your mother and father haunt you until this day. Even though you left years ago and started your very own life away from their toxic household, even though your precious boyfriend Geto Suguru is the living proof for them being wrong.

Just one look at the salad in front of you paired with your memory is enough to feel like in your childhood all over again.

“Hey, look at me honey.”

Gently, his hand caresses your cheek and lifts your head into his direction. There they are, his oh so loving orbs, his tender smile that warms your stinging heart in an instant.

“We’ve been together for a year now and you still seem to be upset when you have to eat around me. I can’t help but wonder why you torture yourself. Is it because of me, did I give you the feeling you aren’t good the way you are? Because I love you with all my heart.”

You never allowed yourself to cry in front of someone else. To be exact, you stopped when you were greeted by nothing but harsh words from your parents with every tear that ran down your cheek. You are supposed to be a good and hostile woman, the perfect little wife for some wealthy man your parents already decided on when you were still 10. A woman that doesn’t speak as much as you do, a woman who doesn’t eat as much as you do. A feminine angel walking on earth with the only purpose to say yes and amen to her beloved husband.

When you were finally old enough to leave them behind, you packed your things and joined jujutsu high. Life is easier around here with so many beloved friends by your side who support and truly love you. Yes, they showed you how good you are, that you are independent and are allowed to have your own opinion, that it’s okay to say no. Yes, you even started to eat a little more and gained a healthy amount of weight and well-formed muscles.

They were wrong. Your parents were so wrong with everything they taught you. But this…

You bite your lip when a sub escapes from deep down your throat, hot tears now stinging in your eyes so violently that you can’t catch your breath. Eating has always been your weakness, the one and only thing you can’t fully control until this day. Their words still crush you every time you order something to eat.

What if Suguru doesn’t find you attractive when you gain even more weight?

What if he thinks it’s disgusting to see you eat like a pig?

What if he’ll fall out of love when you show him that you aren’t as perfect as a doll?

“I’m so sorry. The last thing I want is to see you cry”, he instantly speaks out, wrapping his much-needed arms around you so tightly that you sink into his broad chest.

“It’s just…I’m afraid to eat more…”, you finally blurt out.

A part of your heart flutters in relief when those words finally leave your mouth. For more than a year, you simply forced yourself through the aching of your stomach, the hunger that kept you awake when Suguru laid next to you fast asleep. All because of their cruel words. All because they made you believe your whole life you aren’t good enough if you eat “too much”.

“You don’t feel comfortable eating around me, don’t you?”

You simply nod against his chest, too ashamed to lift your head. How embarrassing to hear those words leaving his lips, that he already knows why you’re acting this way.

“May I ask why? Did I say or do something that makes you feel this way, love?”

Your head starts spinning. The sheer thought that he might think your strange behaviour is his fault, that he did something wrong is ridiculous in your eyes.

“Absolutely not. It’s…It’s…”

Why is it so damn hard to find the right words? You stutter like an idiot for what feels like ages while listening to Suguru’s steady heartbeat. He knows how rough your childhood was, that your parents treated you like the dirt underneath their feet. You were never good enough, never pretty enough, never smart enough. Until you became a well-known and rich jujutsu sorcerer with a charismatic man like Geto Suguru by your side.

“See? I told you you will find a wealthy man if you keep up with our education, daughter.”

“All because we taught you everything you know and kept you in shape!”

“No”, you replied immediately, straightening your shoulders while facing the people who made your life living hell for more than enough years.

“I did all of this by myself. Because I chose to be the person I am instead of the person you wanted me to be.”

“They always told me I’m too much, that eating in front of my man is strictly forbidden. I was supposed to be a thin and docile wife.”

Your voice is nothing but a far away whisper. All those nights your father scolded you when you weighted more than you did before. How your mother screamed at you when your curves start to develop through puberty, how disgusted they looked at you when you wore shorts or ate next to them. Deep within, you know how toxic your eating habits are despite the positive changes you’ve been through. But still…Just the thought of eating a cheeseburger in front of Suguru fills you with so much disgust that your guts turn immediately.

“You aren’t docile but strong and stubborn. You aren’t only thin but strong and athletic. Your body is capable of so much more than simply being thin, (y/n). You are perfect in every single way, your body allows you to fight so well that even Satoru admires your skills. You are so breathtakingly beautiful that I could stare at you all day…I am glad you didn’t follow their rules, that you didn’t turn into the good and docile wife they wanted you to be. Because you became so much more. Because you can do so much more. But for that, you need to fuel your body the way it deserves it even when I’m around. I love to see you eat, I love to see you happy and healthy. And I know how hard it can be to overcome things you were taught from a young age. Would you promise me something?”

Now you can’t help but lift up your head, staring at him through your wet lashes. His words, his oh so sweet words still linger through your mind and force your cheeks to turn bright pink. Is this really how Suguru feels about you, are you really enough for him just the way you are?

Why wouldn’t you? After all, he was the one choosing you.

“What?”, you mumble.

“Promise me that we will work this out. If you can’t bring yourself to open up to me, please consider checking up with Shoko or another professional. I admire you for all the things you’ve already did, that you were actually able to turn into a wonderful woman with that horrible family. I’d love to hang out with you while eating chips, I’d love to eat a whole lot of unhealthy junk food and sweets with you without you worrying about my thought. Because the only thing I care about is that you’re happy. And you being healthy and eating properly means happiness.”

That smile. That oh so bright smile that reaches his brown eyes and lifts up your mood immediately. Oh, you truly don’t deserve him. A new wave of fresh tears threatens to spill over your eyes and begins to take your sight.

But those aren’t tears of sorrow. No, those are tears of pure joy and love.

You throw yourself around his neck before he’s able to catch you properly, causing both of you to almost fall off his chair.

“I will”, you mutter against his ear.

“I promise I will work on it.”

“I’m more than glad to hear that”, he replies softly while caressing your hair.

“Would you like to order something else in addition to your salad, then?”

You let go of Suguru with a small smile, holding his hands tightly as your heart overflows with love. The man who showed you what you’re capable of, who supports you through anything. Sooner or later, you will be able to share food dates with him and enjoy them. But until then…

“I’m fine for today. But next time, I might order something else.”

“Fine. Just let me know when you’re ready, (y/n).”

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[luvseraphh]

i heard you want to try age regressor!reader…..

just a lil idea:

her and bakugou are arguing (u decide if they're dating or not) , and he raises his voice, and she immediately shrinks into herself, regressing back to age 7 when her dad used to yell at her?

tell me what's wrong?

⊹ synopsis. in which an argument with katsuki goes a bit too far and he discovers something new about you.

⊹ content warnings. fluff, drabble, fem!reader, agere!reader, can be read as platonic or romantic

⊹ pairing. katsuki bakugo x reader

⊹ side note. I'm horrible at writing arguments so I just kinda left that part up to the imagination

As soon as he yelled at her, he could see the difference. He saw the way she shrunk into herself, making her appear as small as possible. Her eyes completely shut down and she began gnawing at her lip as she avoided his eyes like the plague. He knew he messed up.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, eyebrows furrowing as he approached her. As he put his hand on her arm, she subconsciously flinched and that only made him feel even more awful. 

“I’m sorry, just, please talk to me,” he pleads, voice immediately vulnerable. Not that he’d ever admit it, but he cared deeply about his friends, especially you. 

He could see thoughts pass behind your eyes and your lips opened a few times as if preparing to say something but you never did. Instead you grabbed a nearby pen and paper, writing down 'you reminded me of my father'.

"Look, I'm sorry, but what the fuck does that have to do with you shutting down?" he asks, growing slightly annoyed at this point.

You roll your eyes, writing down 'age regression. look it up.' before turning and leaving to go back to your dorm room.

A few hours later, in the midst of you coloring and watching your comfort show as you're bundled up in the corner of your bed, you hear a knock on the door into your dorm room. You get up with a soft huff, annoyed that your peace had been disrupted, and went to open the door. You wiped the tears from your face, making sure you would be presentable and wouldn't be disturbed any further before opening the door.

You open the door to see Katsuki standing in the hallway, an apologetic look on his face. He had your favorite candy and a small plushie in his hands, outstretching them to you like a peace offering.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to trigger that or make you upset or anything," he mumbled as you took the items from his hand, "can I come in?"

He smiles when you nod in response, stepping aside to let him in.

Bonus: he spends the rest of the night watching cartoons with you and coloring with you and makes sure you get to bed on time!

Taglist - @justmylvr @lwcedribbons @im0nsaturn @dvartefox @failurewater @f0reverfaded @t0asty1 @iv-vee @mp3nai @straows @grenadehearts @hecate-frenchfries @imagine-all-the-imagines

ⓒ luvseraph 6/12/25

[mullermilkshake]

Two wrongs can make a right

Part 9 <- Part 10 -> Part 11

You're pissed... like really pissed.

Yandere!Jinwoo Sung x Fem Hunter!reader Tags - NSFW, pregnant reader, manipulation, Smut, p in v sex, vaginal sex, quickie, creampie, unprotected sex

<<< For more Dark/Yandere content, click this link to go back to the Masterlist! >>>

<<< Or back to this fic's Master list. >>>

EDIT - I have only watched the anime and haven't gotten round to reading the manhwa yet. Please refrain from spoilers.

“I can’t believe you, Jinwoo. I wanted to break it to her easily- why did you tell her like that?”

There was an easy explanation for this, and it wasn’t the truth. “She was going to find out through someone else, wouldn’t you rather we tell her and not beat around the bush?”

“You know how she feels about you, what you did wasn’t compassion, it was like you were rubbing it in her face.”

Because it was exactly that.

“It’s not the case at all, I just thought it was best to rip the band aid off. You and me are having these babies, and she’ll have to get used to it. But skirting around the subject won’t help any one.”

“Why do I not believe that?” You were more than just angry, you were furious. Even your foot tapped impatiently at him. “It just felt so nasty how you did-“ 

You stopped abruptly, hand straight to your mouth with all the paleness in your face. “How you did that, it’s-“ You tried again and failed, placing your hand over your stomach.

And then your ability triggered Eye’s handmaiden. It appeared in the corner, standing as it always did, arms out ready for spell casting. It fed you a spell with its aura, calming you down so that now you were standing straight.

“What is it?” He asked, rushing over to your side. “Is it the babies?”

“N-no…” You watched Eye’s handmaiden closely. “I just felt sick, I… I don’t anymore.”

Could it be the morning sickness the doctor and Hae-in talked about? “You’re getting morning sickness? That’s what it is.”

You wanted to say something but stopped yourself, shaking your head quicker than Jinwoo liked and pressed your hand flat to his chest to make space. “That doesn’t matter, I’m still pissed off at you. Don’t go pulling that again, because I don’t want drama. I’m stressed enough as it is, me and Hae-in both are.”

Jinwoo pushed back against you to get closer, he took you by the shoulders. “I’m not trying to stress anyone out, especially not you.”

“Then why did you do that?” You didn’t resist his touch.

He wanted to come clean, he really did. But telling you he loved you wasn’t the right time. He had an idea now of when he’d tell you and today wasn’t it.

“You’re having twins. Half of them are me, and half of them are you. Maybe I got a little excited now that it’s settling in, we finally did it, I got you pregnant when for a time, I wasn’t sure that I could. I kind of want to shout it from the rooftops and show the Chairman that he did wrong trying to rush us, it only hindered things.”

You seemed to buy it for now, your expression though, not so much. “So, you’re telling me that you’re not freaking out about this, that you’re excited?”

“Uh…” Jinwoo rubbed the back of his neck with the sudden realisation that you must have been ready to slap him. “Well… I dunno, I just-“

You didn’t slap him, you didn’t scowl or grit your teeth, or just throw harsh language and scold him for it. No, you kissed him. Everything stopped, Jinwoo threw out everything from the air, anything unquestioned and hidden from your view so that he left nothing between you.

He pulled you into him, feeling his way over your waist and let your arms wrap around his neck, your fingers scrunching into his hair with a tug that sent him off. Jinwoo wanted you right here, right now, and pull everything from your bottom half and fuck you senseless over the bed and any other hard surface in the room.

But, he had two babies to think of now, and it wasn’t an option to be rough with you, not for a long while.

Would you even want to have sex, or was it the hormones just getting you hot and bothered? Because the way you kept yourself pressed against him gave him mixed signals. You were pissed off at him, yet grabbing onto any part of his body you could.

“The doctor said we can still have sex, right? I forgot.” You pulled away and slipped off your pretty red shirt, leaving your perfect breasts tucked away in your bra.

You still wanted to have sex even though you weren’t obligated to do so now that you were pregnant. That had to mean something. But it also begged the question of how much information you actually took from the doctor. It was one of the first things she spoke about. You could still have sex though with caution, because there were two babies and possible complications later down the line. 

So Jinwoo had to be careful.

For now, he’d have to restrain himself until the babies were born. Simple enough despite his urges and yours, clearly. You were all over him, pawing at his shirt right over his head and stealing little nips down his chest where you could reach. All the signs told him you wanted it, and wanted it bad.

He stopped you right there, making a gap you fought with until you realised, your eyes wider than they should have been. “What- oh shit, I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

“It’s alright, I want it too- we just need to be careful, because of the babies. But… if you still want to then-“

You did, you kissed him quick and held him near. Jinwoo took the initiative and lifted you up in his arms so that your legs wrapped around his waist. Any hard surface would do. Anything. No bed, no softness, just upright. He took you straight to the end-suite bathroom, holding you firm under your ass and swiping the products from the counter so that they clattered and cracked on the tile floor.

“Fuck me Jinwoo- I need it right now or I’ll burst.”

Pleading always got his cock hard and twitching. He grabbed at your remaining clothes and pulled your underwear off, pulling his pants down just below his ass and gripping his thighs for dear life. Jinwoo spat in his hand and ran the wet right to the base of his cock to make it glisten, ready and aching to get inside you. It had already done its job in knocking you up, but his leaking tip wanted more. It wanted to fill you up every day for the rest of Jinwoo’s life.

“Jinwoo.” Your sternness caught him off guard. “If you don’t put your cock inside me right now, you can finish yourself off.”

The doctor warned him about this, mood swings and sudden changes in scenarios he never took much notice of, until now. He couldn’t ram his cock inside you like you clearly wanted, he held himself back and slipped himself inside your dripping pussy as cautiously as he could. You still let out an aroused gasp and adjusted yourself on the counter, wrapping your legs around and gripped his ass towards you.

“The doctor said we have to be cautious, pulling me like that isn’t cautious-“

But the way you bit his bottom lip drove him insane, the way you watched him with hungry eyes sent him wild.

“You’re driving me crazy, you want to be cautious all the time for nine months?”

No, of course not. 

And hearing such forward words drove him to go against his better judgement, though he never bit, regrettably.

“It’s what we need to do to make sure the babies are safe-“

“Please don’t talk about the babies right now while your balls deep, Jinwoo.” You had a point.

He wanted to say something, or agree with you that bringing up anything other than how good your pussy felt clenching around him. Nothing came out, it wasn’t justified when he did the opposite and slipped his tongue in your mouth. You responded in kind and kissed him back, more feverishly as though you were his lover that reciprocated and told him so everyday. You were yet to say it, Jinwoo knew eventually that you would admit it and give yourself to him.

For now, you accepted his cock with open arms and let him thrust you with some precision, yet tender loving care. Jinwoo wanted to please you in every way that you wanted, his compulsions also wanted you safe.

Still, for now, his urges got one up on the priority list. Only a fraction. A minute molecule.

But it still won.

He fucked into you, lacking his fingers with yours and nipping up your neck in what was possibly the most sensual experience of his life to date. You were constantly topping each new moment just by being you.

And only you.

He loved you.

He really loved you.

I love her. I love her. I love her. 

Each time his hips went flush against the plush of your thighs, he repeated that mantra in his mind, over and over. One day he’d say it out loud and one day you’d say it back. And when he came inside you much earlier than he wanted to, those three words almost slipped out. But what did, came as more of a surprise to Jinwoo than you it seemed.

“I think it’s time you meet my mom and sister."

Part 9 <- Part 10 -> Part 11

If you would like to be tagged, please let me know! Thanks so much for all the support on this likes, reblog and comments appreciated! ❤️

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DISCLAIMER - Crossposted from my AO3 - I do not own any of the characters or anything from the anime or manhwa. This is a work of fan fiction and is absolutely not representative of the views or intentions of the original creator(s).

Also please don’t post any of my work without permission thank you!

[kupidachillea]

Dionysus x You (Hcs or imagines)

Anon asks: “HIII I love your Olympian series. Can I request more of that but with a little more Poseidon or Dionysus”

author note: Eee..I’m not feeling too well but let me make up for lost time with this hehe.

TW (trigger warning):This may have a few Yandere themes in it. And while the Olympians themselves aren’t really yanderes- they do share similar tendencies considering their myths. Please note that this isn’t completely accurate to their mythology- but it’s just a bit of fun so please take no offence and be nice in the comments.

CW (content warning)⚠️: readers either 17-18+ (to read this I mean), mentions of drinking, getting drunk, drunk kissing, slight peer pressure (?), toxic behaviour. General (hinted) Yandere behaviour. Reader’s discretion is advised.

🍇 - Your time on the mountain has been a bit of a blur to you. Everything just felt a bit weird so to speak.

🍷- From the moment you got here to now, first you randomly spawned here and now- you were immortal..no thanks to Apollo.

🍇- But it’s too late to do anything now, all you can do is make the most of your new immortal life. However, that was easier said than done..you were still very much ‘down in the dumps’ about it.

🍷- Who could really blame you? It’s like having a rug dragged from under your feet.. Of course Hestia would try to cheer you up and be a shoulder to cry on once in awhile but you still felt fairly sad.

🍇- One such god took notice of this and decided to take action to help..Dionysus…He figured he could probably take your mind off things, even for just one night.

🍷- So while you were once again sitting by yourself, the god of wine and madness approached you, taking a seat next to you and pushing a veil away from your face.

🍇- “How are you feeling..?” He would ask, your gaze shifting from the smooth marble floor to his face. Regarding him for a moment before telling him you could be better.

🍷- A small frown took over Dionysus’ lips and he sighed. “Yeah..I figured..” He would utter, eyes staring of elsewhere. Soon enough his smile would return, he had an idea and the brunet turned his gaze towards you. “Maybe I could help you take your mind off things, hm?”

🍇- You would narrow your eyes at him..not really in the mood for sex but he quickly reassured you that wasn’t what he meant…yet. Instead he took you by the hand leading you away from the mountain temporarily.

🍷- You had no idea where he was taking you, until you both arrived at something that looked reminiscent of a temple of the sort..was this his domain? There were marble statues of the wine god himself along with offering baskets and altars.

🍇- There, he led you inside and to sit down on a comfy seat adorned in soft cushions and gold. It made you relax in a way. However you were still on your toes around the god of madness and wine.

🍷- Dionysus could tell that you were a bit skeptical around him, which he understood. He only smiled and poured a cup of fresh wine into a goblet. At first you assumed it was for him, so it took you by surprise when Dionysus had handed the stunning goblet to you.

🍇- “Drink…” He spoke. His words as smooth and as silken as the burgundy liquid that swished around in your cup. You honestly should refused, and of course Dionysus could sense your hesitance. So he sighed and sat next to you..pouring his own cup before raising it to his lips. “Oh come now, a little wine won’t kill you. Besides..it might relieve your mind..hm?”

🍷- At his words you would raise a brow. You knew that ‘a little wine’ could turn into a lot..you knew that you should drink responsibly and what about alcohol poisoning? Though- you were immortal now so it shouldn’t be a problem…should it?

🍇- With that thought in mind you closed your eyes and tilted the goblet up. Allowing Dionysus’ wine to travel past your lips and down your throat. The taste could only be described as divine, and the more sips you took the more you felt the stress of being on the mountain begin to fade away. Dionysus would smile at the sight..placing an arm around your shoulder.

🍷- “There you go~ See? You look better already!” He would say before downing his own drink. Of course he was going to indulge as well, why wouldn’t he? It’s only appropriate. So you both drank and talked..the more you had the less your inhibitions held you back.

🍇- You were laughing and having fun..for the first time in awhile. And Dionysus was glad he could help..deep down he wishes that you didn’t need wine to loosen up and get comfortable around them all. Though he shoved that thought down..deciding to dwell in the present.

🍷- As the night went on your words grew a bit slurred..you were clearly drunk. You both work..and soon enough giggling turned into touching. And before you knew it you found yourself straddling Dionysus’ lap and placing kisses onto his lip..not that he minded..he embraced it

🍇- Kissing you back as he pushed the veil away from your face..tasting his precious wine on your lips and tongue. Your breathing was laboured..as if you had run a marathon but in truth you were just a tad bit out of breath from the kissing. When you pulled away you saw that the god’s cheeks were flushed and warm and you couldn’t help but giggle at the sight. It was certainly something.

🍷- Dionysus frowned a bit when you laughed..though he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t pleasant to listen too. So he chuckled in response and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling your head to rest on his chest. “Feeling better now..?” He would ask. Words slightly slurred and soft as his fingers brushed against the jewellery that adorned your skin..each gem a precious stone that made you seem more radiant..

🍇- You felt yourself growing drowsy though you nodded your head in response to Dionysus. Despite being drunk..you were still somewhat aware of what was happening. Your fingers weakly grasping as his tunic as your body relaxed. You told him thank you..for lifting your sorrow even if it was a fleeting moment. You still appreciated it.

🍷- The god of madness felt the corners of his lips turn up in a smile. He was glad he could help. “Any time..” He mumbled as he felt your body go limp and relax…signalling that you had fallen asleep. He would sigh and rest you on the lavish sofa..drawing a sheet over you as he sat nearby and kept watch.

Author note💌: Sorry this took so long. IRL thins have been keeping me and burn out is so high. I’m sorry and I apologise if the quality of this fic isn’t up to the standard you all hoped but I truly appreciate the patience and support 💗

[cosmicmunsonwrites]

some mistakes get made

pairing(s): bf!rafe cameron x gf!fem!reader

warnings: smut, spanking, cock warming, overprotective rafe, praise, unprotected sex

summary: after sneaking out to a party you knew rafe wouldn’t allow you to go to, you come home to a very angry boyfriend.

authors note: i literally wrote this in 20 minutes so it might suck

not edited ..

do not copy my works. i do not condone rewrites, translations, or edited versions. all my content is my content that i wrote.

not my gif

“rafe please, please baby. ‘m sorry,” you cried. “i promise i’ll never do it again.”

he laughed and held your hips down tighter against his, making you squirm and your legs shake. “i know you won’t. unless you wanna go through this again.”

“please, do something. anything. just move,” you begged weakly. you were frustrated. extremely frustrated just sitting there on his lap with his cock stuffed deep inside you.

he tsked. “watch the movie, baby.”

you slyly began to roll your hips, trying to alleviate the pressure in your stomach. he slapped your ass harder than the previous times, making you jump and lean in closer to him.

the tears began flowing down your cheeks. you’d been sitting like this for an hour now and you wanted him to move so bad. you’d do anything to feel him moving inside you. “please, rafe. i want you so bad.”

“yeah? just like you wanted to go to that party real bad?” he asked, his hand wrapping around your throat and forcing you to look at him. “get off me and lay down over my legs.”

you whined when he slipped out of you and left you with an empty feeling but hurried to lay over the tops of his legs with your ass up and bare stomach over his skin. before you could apologize any further, both hands came smacking down on your cheeks.

you jolted forward, crying even harder at the sting it left behind. “go ahead, baby. count em’ out for me.”

you weakly blurted out numbers all the way to 20. and by now, your ass was a fiery shade of red and it stung like hell. “bend over the couch,” he ordered.

you whimpered as you pushed yourself off his legs and kneeled down onto the carpeted floor beside him. you bent over at the waist, your top half laying on the cushioned couch while your knees dug into the carpet and your ass was on display.

“now you knew not to go to that party, correct?” he asked. you nodded.

that earned you another slap to your already burning ass. “yes,” you sobbed. “i did.”

“but you snuck out anyway. how many times did i tell you not to go?”

you hid your face in your arms. “five.”

“that’s right,” he said as his hands soothed over your burning skin. “and now, you’re gonna cum for me five times. and you’re gonna take everything i give you and not be a little brat about it, got that pretty girl?”

you nodded and gulped when you felt his warmth behind you. “yes.”

“good girl,” he mumbled before stuffing you full in one thrust. “see, baby. i knew you knew how to listen.”

he began thrusting into you roughly, driving your hips into the couch and making you cry out.

his hands found purchase on your ass as he pounded into you. you whimpered loudly at the sting his hands were causing against your already bruised flesh.

“rafe,” you cried out. “rafe please. i’m—‘m sorry. i swear.”

he stopped for a moment, pushing his hips as close as they could go to yours. “remember what i said, baby? take what i give you. don’t start with that apologizing bullshit.”

you cried harder when he began pounding into you again, triggering your first orgasm when he hit that spot inside you that had your toes curling and legs shaking.

you were in for a long night.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Vow 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, arranged marriage, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!August Walker

Summary: your father's murder leaves you in the hands of a dangerous man.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

"This is how we stay safe," your mother tugs the laces so your lurch. 

Your eyes widen at your reflection. The gown is tight yet too big. The bodice pinches as your mother yanks and yanks. The skirt is full and fluffy. Layers and layers of tulle.  

You can't breathe but you don't think its the boning. You touch the front of the gown, feeling the delicate embroidery, and shudder as you exhale. Strange how days before you wore black and cried, now you're in white in what many deem the happiest day if your life. 

"Hasn't he taken enough--" 

"Shh!" She whips her finger up. "He can always take more. Your father didn't think so but he can, god rest. There's always something to lose." 

"Mom," you croak. You've never seen her afraid. She's always been pompous, always unfazed, but now her eyes are like sparklers, flickering and frantic. "I'm scared." 

"Be scared but be obedient. And smile," she moves around you and frames your face, "smile. Please. He can always change his mind. Don't let him. If he does, we are lost." 

"How do you know? Daddy's gone. We can leave--" 

"The vultures are waiting," she snarls. "Don't you understand? It's only the wolf that keeps them at bay." 

"Why... why would he want me? If daddy--" 

"Hush, I won't tell you again. Do not speak of your father. Especially in front of him." She dabs your lip with her thumb as she fixes your make up, "from this day forth, he is the only man in your life. Understand?" 

You pout. That night comes back. The echoing bang the woke you, your mother's scream, and the barrels that pointed through your doorway. Quick, clean, horrifying. As if your father never was. 

"Yes." 

"You better. You know this man is cruel. Do you want to test him?" 

You shake your head and she lets you go. You back away and heave. You won't mess up the hours of work put into your hair and face. If you look in the mirror again, you will. 

You stare at your skirts as your mother pins the veil on your head. She pulls on it, arranging it around you. It drapes almost to your feet. 

A knock at the door. She goes to it. Whispers. The door stays open. Your mother calls your name. Your soles stick before you can make yourself move. 

As you get to her, your mother takes you by your wrist. You feel her warmth through the lacy gloves. She guides you behind a party of women. Some you recognise, some you don't. Their makeup is thickly caked on and their hair teased. 

"Look up," your mother snaps under her breath and lets you go. "You will not shame your family by hiding." 

You raise your head. Your head is light and bobbly. You march down the hallway behind the train of solemn women. 

You’ve never met the man who killed your father. The very same you are about to face. The one you are to marry. It’s the sort of irony that hurts. 

You’re stopped as the other women keep going. They leave you, one by one, until it is only your mother. She gives your hand a final squeeze and goes. You wait alone, uncertain. 

The music changes and you flinch. You know you have to go but you don’t want to. You don’t want to die either. And you don’t want to lose your mom. She’s all you have left. 

You can picture the house. Ransacked, bullet-riddled, crowded with strange men. You push away the memories and step forward. One foot in front of the other. Keep going. That’s what this life will be. Do what has to be done, not what you want. 

You enter the large hall. Peaked ceilings, music echoing off the walls, full pews, and a man waiting. You look ahead to the figure at the altar. Two, but the shorter one fades into the background. The priest is a blue as your eyes fixate on the man in the white suit. 

As you get closer, his features come into focus. Dark curls, a shadow of a beard and a thick line of hair over his lip. The cleft in his chin adds to the chisel of his jaw and he’s tall. Very tall and broad. His blue eyes meet yours. 

You trip as you try to step up beside him. He’s quick to catch you. His grip is iron on your arm. He helps you up and stands you across from his. Your eyes cling to him. You can’t look away. You’re terrified. He can’t look away from you either. 

You stand facing each other; you trapped him shock, him in triumph. This day is the first day of the rest of your life. The end of the empire and the birth of another. A vow to seal your fate and those of all watching. 

[secretlittlerandezvous]

Coming Home - Brandon Carlo

Summary: Brandon and Y/n's relationship crumbles as the distance grows between them. After she leaves, Brandon struggles with the loss, trying to move on. When he’s traded to a new team, his loneliness deepens.

Trigger warnings: NSWF content. Some swear words.

Words: 2,045

Note: I am not okay after Brandon’s trade to Toronto. So, this angsty one-shot is my way of dealing with it.

Brandon didn’t lose her all at once.

It happened in fragments, small, painful pieces that chipped away until there was nothing left to hold onto.

It started with little things, barely noticeable really. It took her longer to reply to his texts, and she stopped texting first. Her laughter grew quieter, her smiles didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Then it turned into bigger things. She started cancelling their plans, staying out with her friends until the early hours of the morning. She stopped staying over as often. Stopped clinging to him at night the way she used to, stopped whispering sleepy “I love yous” against his shoulder in the morning.

Then came the silence.

The kind that settled between them in bed at night, stretching wider and wider until it became unbearable.

And when she pulled away from his kisses, when her hands stopped lingering on his skin, he should have asked her why.

But he didn’t.

He told himself it was just a rough patch. That they’d been together long enough to survive this, that it wasn’t anything serious.

He was wrong.

And too comfortable. Too secure.

Brandon knew they had problems. He just never thought she’d leave.

And yet, one night, she did.

They were sitting in the living room, her curled up in the corner of the couch, looking so small in his hoodie. But she wasn’t warm. Wasn’t soft. Wasn’t his anymore.

"I don’t think I can do this anymore," she said, surprising not only Brandon but herself as well.

Brandon had been expecting it, but it still felt like a punch to the stomach.

"Y/n, come on-"

"No," she cut him off, shaking her head. "I’ve tried, Brandon. I really have. But I don’t feel it anymore. Something’s missing, and what we have left is not enough."

His jaw tightened. "That’s not true."

"Then why do I feel like I’m just… here?" Her voice cracked, and she looked away. "I wanted you to fight for me. I waited. But you didn’t."

And suddenly, all the little things - the ignored texts, the missed dinners, the nights she fell asleep alone while he stayed out late with the guys came crashing down on him.

He had taken her for granted. And now he was losing her.

"I don’t feel like I’m in this relationship anymore, Brandon." Her voice was shaking, but her eyes were steady. "And I don’t think you are either."

"What do you mean? That’s not true," he said quickly. "I love you. You know that."

She let out a soft, hollow laugh. "Do I?"

"I can fix this," he swore, reaching for her hand.

She pulled away.

"I needed you to fix this months ago." Her voice broke. "And you didn’t. And now I don’t know how to come back from that."

Brandon had never felt so helpless in his life.

“Please," he whispered. "Don’t do this Y/n. Just- just give me time. I can make this right, I’ll fix this.”

She just shook her head.

“I can’t wait anymore." She whispered.

Brandon exhaled, running a hand down his face. He wasn’t good with words. Never had been. He wanted to tell her she was wrong. That he loved her more than anything. That she was everything.

But what came out was quite different.

"So what? You’re just giving up?"

She stared at him for a long moment. And then she nodded. "Yeah. I guess I am."

And just like that, she walked out of his life.

(…)

Brandon didn’t know how to exist without her.

She was in everything. The smell of her perfume lingered on his pillows. There was a forgotten hoodie in his closet. The worst of all was the stupid coffee mug she always used, sitting on the counter like she might come back for it.

At first, he thought she just needed space. That she’d be back soon.

But then he heard the rumors.

"She left Boston, man. Took off for the summer with some sketchy people."

Brandon laughed, shaking his head. "No way."

His teammates talked about it like it was nothing.

"It’s bad news. But maybe she’s having fun."

"Yeah, she’ll probably come crawling back once someone screws her over."

Brandon wanted to punch something.

He wanted to find her, shake her, make her see what mistakes she’s done.

But she wasn’t his to protect anymore.

So instead, he did what any brokenhearted, pissed-off man would do.

He tried to move on.

He went out more. Said yes to nights at the bar with the guys, to drinks with pretty girls who smiled at him like he wasn’t completely wrecked inside.

He took a blonde home one night. She was gorgeous, confident, touched him like she wanted nothing else but him.

And he tried.

Tried to lose himself in her. In her lips, in her hands, in the way she moaned his name.

But when he closed his eyes, all he could see was Y/n.

The way she used to pull him closer, the way she whispered his name like it was something sacred.

And that night, he pulled away from the blonde, pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, and felt nothing.

He called a taxi for the blonde girl and sent her home.

Moving on wasn’t working.

And it didn’t matter how many girls he tried to kiss, because none of them were her.

He spent that summer in hell.

He found himself scrolling through old pictures late at night, torturing himself with memories. Her smile, her eyes, the way she used to look at him.

He started drafting texts he never sent.

"I miss you."

"Are you okay?"

"Please come home."

But she never reached out. And he never sent it.

And eventually, the new season was creeping closer and Brandon convinced himself it’d help him get over it. That he’d throw himself into training, that hockey would be enough.

And then out of nowhere came the trade.

One minute, he was sitting in a meeting with the Bruins staff and his agents, and the next, they were telling him he was being traded. A new city. A new country. A new team.

Boston had been his home for years. She had been his home. And now, he lost both.

Brandon sat in his empty apartment that night, staring at the walls, his bags half-packed. He had spent the past few months convincing himself she’d come back. That one day, she’d walk through the door and tell him she was ready to try again. Now he was leaving.

Everything felt like it was falling apart. Like a part of himself was being ripped away. His chest ached with the emptiness that surrounded him. The house, once full of memories, now felt like a tomb.

He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t leave. He didn’t want to.

Brandon wasn’t sure how long he’d been sitting in the darkness, lost in his own thoughts, but when the knock on the door came, it felt like the world had just shifted beneath him.

He didn’t move at first.

Another knock. More confident this time.

Brandon stood up, his legs stiff as he walked toward the door.

He didn’t know what to expect. Didn’t know if he was ready for it.

He opened the door, and there she was.

Y/n.

Looking at him with wide, teary eyes, her hands in fists at her sides.

"I was wrong."

Brandon swallowed, gripping the doorframe. "What the hell are you doing here, Y/n?"

She flinched at his tone but didn’t back down. "I needed to see you."

Brandon didn’t say anything. His stomach twisted and the anger was rising faster than he could process.

“I’m sorry,” she said, the words coming out almost in a whisper.

“You’re sorry?” he finally spat out, stepping back and letting the door swing wider.

“I was wrong, okay? I didn’t know what I was doing. I thought I needed space, but it wasn’t it. I know now-”

“No,” he interrupted, his voice harsh. “You didn’t think. You didn’t care. You didn’t even give me a chance.”

Y/n opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off again, his chest heaving with the raw frustration he hadn’t let out until now. “You don’t get to show up here and say you’re sorry. You broke me!”

Y/n’s eyes filled with tears. She was hurting, he could see that, but it wasn’t enough.

“I-” she started but broke off, pressing her lips together. “I know. I know I hurt you. And I hate myself for it.”

Brandon’s chest tightened as the anger started to fade, replaced by a deep ache he didn’t know how to process. He looked at her, the girl he once loved, standing before him in so much pain, her face streaked with tears.

“I didn’t realize how much I needed you until I was gone, Brandon. I didn’t understand what I was doing. I’m sorry. God, I’m so sorry.”

They fell into silence. Both confused and unsure of that to do next.

“When I heard you were leaving, I-" Her voice gave out, and she pressed a hand to her mouth. "I couldn’t let you go without telling you I still love you."

Brandon’s stomach clenched.

Fuck, he tried to stay angry.

Tried to remember how much she had hurt him, how much he had suffered without her.

And then he gave in.

His lips crashed against hers, desperate, aching.

She melted into him, fingers curling into his hair, pulling him closer, closer, closer.

It wasn’t just a kiss.

It was months of heartbreak, of waiting, of hoping.

It was coming home.

Brandon’s body burned with desire, but it was more than that. It was the way she fit against him, the way her hands trembled against his skin, the sound of her breath against his lips. It was the closeness.

He could feel her heart racing under his touch as he slipped his hands under her shirt, his fingers grazing the soft skin of her back. She shivered at his touch, and the sound she made: soft and broken pushed him forward, urged him to pull her closer.

With a swift movement, he lifted her effortlessly, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. She gasped against his mouth, a soft, breathless moan slipping from her lips as he carried her toward the bed.

"Brandon," she whispered between kisses, her hands tangling in his hair.

As they fell onto the bed, their lips never parted, their hands rediscovering the familiar warmth of each other. She tugged at his shirt, and he helped her, the fabric discarded carelessly onto the floor. His body pressed against hers, and she arched into him, seeking more.

He kissed her neck, his lips trailing down her skin, enjoying the way she responded, the way her breath hitched each time his touch lingered.

“I’ve missed you,” he whispered, his voice rough, thick.

“I’ve missed you too,” she breathed, her fingers threading through his hair, pulling his lips back to hers.

The world outside of them no longer existed. There was only the heat, the need, the longing, as they came together. They responded to every touch, every kiss, every movement, as if they were the only two people left in the world. Their bodies moved in perfect sync, the closeness was overwhelming, the connection was deeper than they thought.

Later, much later when they finally broke apart, breathless and tired, Brandon held her close, his hand gently tracing the curve of her back. Her head rested on his chest, her fingers lightly caressing his skin, the sound of their breathing was the only thing that filled the room.

“Are you really leaving?” she asked quietly against his skin.

Brandon tightened his hold on her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“Come with me,” he whispered.

She pulled back to look at him, her eyes soft but filled with uncertainty. “What?”

“If you meant what you said,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over her cheek. “Then come with me.”

Her breath caught in her throat, her chest rising and falling quickly. She looked at him, her eyes searching his face, as if trying to read his soul.

Finally, she whispered, “Okay.”