#and stare into space until i can come up with something to draw since i dont have much to go off of. but its fun to build on small tidbits!

[clumsypuppy]

doodles of my fav sillies

anton belongs to @poicyss

[eraserbread]

omg. i love horny pregnant wife so much. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE more with nanami or toji🙏 you’re such a talented writer ily

you're seeing sides to your husband, nanami, that you didn't even know existed... until three months ago when you found out he got you pregnant.

creeping into the second trimester, your body is in constant aching pain -- it starts in your abdomen, sometimes, morphing into cramps in your lower back as your belly begins to bulge.

it's knocked you into needing to waddle everywhere you go, and stuck in bed when he's not around.

but, this morning, he is around. you wake up alone, the sun is bright, and the air smells like miso and eggs. kento knows it's all you've been wanting to eat lately, so he wakes up early on his day off to make it for you.

his back is turned to you when you waddle into the kitchen, feet dragging in your house shoes over the cold floor. ken stands shirtless, standing at the stove, stirring a pot of soup -- it awakens something within you.

you're left staring in the doorway, swallowing down the thickness of absolute, carnal, bodily need.

you can't even find the strength to speak, all of the life you had is rushing between your thighs, burning you alive. biting your lip, you cross your knees.

of course, he notices you after a second, drawn in by the savory, familiar smell of you behind the waft of miso. kento peeks over his shoulder.

"love, you should have stayed in bed."

"why?" your whisper is fucked already, rasping and grating in your throat.

"because your body needs rest. doctor's orders." then he's turning around, steaming bowl of miso cradled in his grip.

you're sweating, watching his bare, sexy chest stare you down in a way that genuinely makes you feral. him and his ruffled hair, shadowed eyes, and furrowed eyebrows.

"pleasepleasepleaseplease," you're begging, mouth full of cotton as you're tearing through bedsheets. kento's situated behind you, thick tongue drawing masterful, sticky circles against your quivering cunt.

yours to the core, there's nothing he loves more than eating you up. since the pregnancy, that feeling is heightened tenfold. you're pulling off your pants, and he's getting that smell in his nose -- that hunger in his body.

and even better, your libido is coming back with this trimester, letting him take his time as he sucks you clean. face down, ass up - hips supported by a pillow, because he wants you to be as comfortable as possible.

kento lets you do all the talking -- all the blubbery crying and pitiful moans you've been keeping. it's like a river down here, buried nose-deep in your ass, his tongue can't keep up the onslaught of constant, dripping slick. he's full off of your taste, but that doesn't mean he won't give his wife what she wants.

"oh, my god. i'm gonna die. gonna -- gonna kill me 'f you don't put it innn!" you're arching your back when he pulls away, licking over his flushed lips, memorizing the taste so he can carry it with him throughout the day.

but, he's taking too long. just one second over your limit, and you're sobbing. "put it in! what are you fucking waiting for, it hurts!"

"oh..." kento doesn't react, knowing anything could set you off further. he does sit up, fishing his erection from his loose linen pants to slide between your aching cunt. he won't tease you for very long now, but he is curious to see how much you're willing to beg...

"you motherfuc-

that disrespect? kento uses it as fuel, and with one fateful swoop, he's burying himself inside of you, punching a guttural, needy scream from your chest.

"well, that's not very nice." he's growling, rolling his hips forward to chase some friction. closing his big body over yours, a single hand presses over the back of your neck, squeezing just enough to emit some pain. he doesn't want to actually hurt you now that you're carrying his daughter, but he does want to establish patience.

cursed nicknames have no space in your loving home.

"i'm sorryyyy--mmhmf!"

he's fucking you so well, now, thick, slippery cock sliding out to the tip, only to slam back in to the hilt. he hurts so good -- so wholly. it's like he's devouring you whole.

this feeling... it was so different, so perfect. all you can think about is your kento pressing another baby in you.

call it greed or lust, kento thinks it's something adjacent to absolute, abiding love and trust.

[rafesslxt]

unknown number

pt. 1/2

SUMMARY: not only you are surprised when you get a drunk text from your brother that you should pick him up from a party - Topper's just as shocked as you are.

WARNINGS: Thornton!reader, brothers best friend trope, bickering, tension, quick deep talk with Topper

WORD COUNT: 1,7k

NOTE: english is not my first language | thank‘s to everyone for reading and supporting, comments and - are highly apprecaiated <3

🥥 🍋‍🟩 𓇼 ⋆｡˚ 𓆝⋆｡˚ 𓇼 🥭 🍍

Your body tried to make its way through the sweaty crowd dancing and drinking around you, the air thick with the scent of weed and expensive perfume. This wasn't on your agenda for tonight, getting your drunk brother out of a party, that's for sure.

"Hey sis, can u get me? I'm drunk as hell."

You weren't surprised, though. After Sarah had ditched him for John B, which was more than understandable for you but hey – Topper never wanted to listen to your advice, he seemed to try drowning the pain and hurt ego away by drinking and smoking.

The house you currently were in was familiar to you. Since Sarah's your best friend you spend a lot of time here but never during these party's, cause most of the time Rafe was the host and well - let's just say you tried to avoid any chance of being in a room with him together.

Because besides the hatred for their sister's trying to live the pogue life, Topper and Rafe had one thing more in common. They fell for the sister of their best friend. The only problem was, that Rafe never acted on his feeling. While Topper may be a complete idiot, he at least showed Sarah some kind of feelings, trying to wrap her around his fingers. But for Rafe? Bickering and hating was his way.

But Rafe apparently had a new way of drawing you into his space.

"Hey, did you see Topper?" You asked a guy which's name you could never remember no matter how often your brother tried to tell you. You just knew he often hang with them together. "No, sorry. Ask Rafe, he was with him a while ago." You instantly rolled your eyes but smiled at him and nodded in a way that was supposed to tell him 'thank you'.

You made your way further through the people until you reached the living room where you saw Rafe sitting on the couch, talking to two girls on either side of him.

Not bothering that you may interrupted something, you walked up behind him, not even caring enough to wait until he might realize you were standing behind him. "Have you seen my brother? He told me to come pick him up."

You looked down at his head which bend until it laid against the backrest, his pretty blue eyes meeting yours. Pretty ? No, you meant blue. Just blue.

"Oh If it isn't the princess of the Pogues, gracing us with her presence this night.", his voice dripped with sarcasm. "And to what do we owe this unexpected visit?" You rolled your eyes at his irritating words and crossed your arms in front of your chest. "Did you see Topper, Rafe?", you repeated.

His smile widened before he sat upright again, took a beer that was probably his from the desk, turned around and locked eyes with you again, walking around the couch towards you.

"Someone's in a grumpy mood today." he remarked, taking a sip of his beer. "Rafe If you don't-" "No need to be so uptight princess. The party just stared." You scoffed. "Well, apparently not If my brother's texting me to come pick his drunk ass up."

"Give him some time, he's trying to heal from a heartbreak. I mean I told him my sister is never hanging around for long but- well you know him. Had to try for himself."

You were slowly getting tired of the conversation and Rafe seemed to notice. "And as for where your brother is; I saw him with Kelce in the kitchen a few minutes ago. Just before you arrived, I think."

Without giving him a second more of your time, you turned around, walking towards the kitchen. Why didn't he just tell you 'Hey, Topper is in the kitchen.' ? Why does he always have to bicker with you and beat around the bush. Ugh.

Sarah always said he liked you but before Rafe Cameron actually had serious feelings for you or even anyone, hell would freeze over.

You walked into the kitchen of the Cameron's, immediately spotting your brother and Kelce, laughing loudly between some shots they were taking.

"Wow. You're really setting the bar lower and lower." You scoffed, making their heads turn towards you. "Y/n? What are you doing here? Aren't you with your little friends?" "Oh, hey pipsqueak." Kelce chuckled from behind Topper, waving at you with a drunken grin.

"Come on Topper, I don't have all night." I sighed, already about to leave the kitchen when he looked at me as If I had torn apart his favorite teddy bear apart that he hid under his bed whenever someone came over. "What the hell are you talking about?" "What the hell do you mean what the hell I'm talking about? You texted me to come pick you up because you're too drunk."

Just as he was about to answer, Rafe entered the kitchen and stood beside you. "Topper, why don't you listen to your sister and go with her, you've had enough for tonight."

Feeling betrayed, Topper was too stunned to speak, looking at Kelce for some backup. "Hey man don't get me into this." he replied to his look, throwing up his hands and spilling some of the liquid that was inside his shot glass.

"I didn't text you!" he exclaimed, reached into his pocket and searching for his phone. "Shit.. can't find it." You rolled your eyes, your patience slowly but clearly wearing off. "Topper.." "I swear I didn't!", he swore while continuing to search the insides of his few pockets. "Damn no really, where is it?", he asked himself.

"Come on man." Kelce chuckled and threw an arm around his friend, slowly guiding him outside the kitchen and towards the front door where you parked your car.

You stepped aside to let them pass, your gaze landing on Rafe who was already looking at you, licking his bottom lip before speaking. "Here." He reached into his pocket and handed you Topper's phone. "What? Why do you have my brother's phone ?", you asked him, as It didn't hit you yet what was going in.

"Thought he might need someone to pick him up before he would be a complete mess.", he chuckled, shrugging his shoulders and looking away for a short moment.

Your eyebrows shot up as the realization finally hit you."You texted me to come pick him up? Why would you do that?" He chuckled and looked down at you. " Like I said; I was worried about my friend." "Bullshit.", you called him out right away. "If you were worried about him, you would have told me where he was instead of beating around the bush."

"Just wanted some conversation." he replied simply, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes while doing so, trying not to let him get under your skin. It would only please him.

"Good night, Rafe." you smiled at him before turning around and pushing through sweaty crowd again, reaching your car where Kelce and Topper were already waiting for you.

You pressed the little button on your car key, allowing them to get in while you were still a few meters away. Kelce jumped into the back seat, and Topper settled next to you in the front.

You slid behind the wheel and closed your door, glancing over your shoulder at Topper’s friend. “Should I drive you home too?” you asked, reaching for your seatbelt and securing it right after.

“Sure thing, pipsqueak,” he grinned, his eyes heavy and his body slumping down onto the back seat. You rolled your eyes for what felt like the hundredth time in the last thirty minutes and started the engine, pulling away from the property.

A few minutes into the drive, you looked over to your right. “You’re lucky. Mom and Dad aren’t home tonight,” you smirked slowly, trying to lighten the mood since he was still your annoying brother. Annoying, but family.

A scoff escaped his lips as he stared out the window. “As if they’re ever home.” 

You sighed quietly, shrugging your shoulders. “Well, it’s still better than having to explain why you’re drunk and high.” 

“They wouldn’t understand anyway. They never do. All they do is scream and complain. They don’t care.” He turned his head toward you, studying your face. “But honestly, I don’t know which one of us they’re more disappointed in,” he chuckled.

“Yeah… Mom’s worried I’m drinking myself into a coma, while Dad is worried you’ll run off with Maybank or some other pogue.” The car fell silent for a moment before you both erupted into unexpected laughter. 

"Honestly, I don’t know which one is worse,” you giggled, gripping the wheel a little tighter as you turned onto your street. "Not sure who's setting the bar lower now, huh?" Topper smirked.

“I guess we should take him with us tonight before his parents have a heart attack,” you suggested, nodding toward Kelce, who was snoring in the back seat.

“Yeah…” he glanced at his friend and then back at you. “Thank you for picking me up, even though I didn’t text you. It’s good to know I can still count on you.” He smiled softly at you, placing his hand on your shoulder.

"No problem, Topper." you smiled back at him before turning off your car and finally parked in your garage. "Let‘s get him inside.", you grinned, eager to get out like Topper, when your phone suddenly vibrated in your purse.

Hm, probably the pogues asking If everything‘s alright after you left so quick with only telling them it‘s an 'family emergency'.

You opened your little white purse Sarah had given you on your last birthday and rummaged through it, fishing out your phone. You had a few messages from JJ and Sarah, asking you when - wait.

What was that? A message by an unknown number.

unknown number

i took the liberty of grabbing your number while I had the chance to.

was nice seeing you tonight, hot and bothered like always..

sweets dreams, angel.

xx rafe

That son of a - wait, why were you smiling together with your heart beating faster ?

masterlist | taglist | navigation | valentines day special

tags: @supernaturaldawning @cardibre91 @aegonsslxt @juliet-017

xoxo sarah <3

[revelboo]

Oh my god, I physically NEED a B-127 fated mates fics. He’s so much of a lovable dork, my heart can’t!

I caved… y’all can have the excited, yappy puppy. 18+ 🌶️

The Coma Kid

TFO B-127 x Reader

• Tires humming on asphalt, there’s a faint anxiety humming in the back of his processor that’s there wherever he’s under the open sky. A lingering unease that he can’t shake no matter how long it’s been since he left sublevel fifty. Since he left Cybertron. And like he always does when he’s nervous, he talks. Even if it’s just to himself, because he can’t admit to Optimus or anyone else that he’s afraid, can’t even put it into words just to himself. That wide open spaces make him feel so small. So lonely. “This is fine. Totally fine. Absolutely okay,” he says, the sound of his own voice a comfort as it shatters the silence. Because if he says it enough, it must be true. Convincing himself. “I’m okay.” Even if he’s not, he can still smile and keep saying it until he believes it.

• Hair sticking to your nape with sweat, you lean against the rake and work the knots out of your back. Listening to a squirrel fussing from one of the nearby trees, and the peace and quiet is a nice change from the city. Everything feels slower here, more laid back. No stress. No traffic. There’s a faint prickling through you as you stand there that’s almost like that electric taste of lightning on the horizon, a breathless anticipation that whispers a storm is coming even though there’s not a cloud in the sky. That draws your attention to the road.

• Speeding along empty roads, patrolling for Decepticons, he realizes he’s slowing even though he hadn’t meant to. There’s a spark deep ache inside him, pulling at him and he follows it without thinking. Because it echoes through him like a memory. Something familiar. Like the first time he’d met Orion and D-16. Before everything has gone so wrong, when for a short time he’d not been alone. He’d had friends and everything had been perfect for the first time ever. “Where are you?” He mutters and then he spots one of the little organic natives to this world. Little, fragile things. He’s seen them before, but Optimus has forbidden all of them from interacting with them. “I can feel you. Are you calling me?” And he’s transforming without meaning to, seeing you turn toward him, your wide eyes meeting his optics. “Can you feel that? You can, right?”

• Rake falling from your shocked fingers as the car passing by comes apart. Becomes a giant, yellow robot and strides towards you across the lawn, hands outstretched. Hear it talking as it comes at you, reaching for you. A strange feeling of familiarity running through you as you stare at it, that sense snaring you. “Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you.” Those big hands are almost on you when you snap out of that warm haze paralyzing you, because that lulling sense that this is okay is a trap. As soon as you break free of it, you scream and run.

• “Wait-wait.” Lunging, suddenly desperate to catch you, to not lose that sense of belonging, he swipes at your much smaller form. “I said I won’t hurt you! I promise!” You’re fast and he dives, a servo snagging your leg and you go sprawling. Allowing him to drag you back to him by a leg even as you start kicking at his hands with the other. “Stop, it’s okay. I promise it’s okay.” Looming over you, he picks you up and nearly drops you when you try to throw yourself out of his hands. Curling forward around you, feeling the frantic beat of your heart and that sense of home and belonging singing through him as he cages you in his servos. Doesn’t understand what this is, only that he’s never going to be alone again. Never letting go, no matter what. “We’re okay now.” Servos pressing you close to him even as you struggle.

Next

[22ayla21]

Hello! Could I request a continuation to student Anaxa and chronic napper. It’s up to you what you want to write and take your time but they’re literally the cutest dynamic I’ve ever seen. Thank you!!!

Those Who Simply Exist Together

When a boisterous suitor bursts into their silent rhythm, Anaxa begins to understand that even the quietest coexistence can speak louder than words.

Previous part

In the academy, where every day seethed with formulas, arguments, and the quiet hum of intrigue, it seemed nothing could shake the fragile balance established between Anaxa and her. Their silence was something personal, almost sacred. Their unspoken ritual seemed unbreakable.

Until he appeared.

The newcomer. With a certain defiant confidence, a smile capable of illuminating the amphitheater, and a voice that sounded like triumphant fanfares. Not stupid, no – one of those who takes by the force of charisma, not strength, and who dispenses compliments as casually as others do spells.

He noticed the girl when she was once again dozing off in the reading room, nestled comfortably against the armrest of the chair next to Anaxa.

"Hey," he said, stepping too close and leaning on the table where Anaxa was intently drawing complex diagrams. "Mind if I borrow her for a minute?"

Anaxa didn't answer. He simply looked. Or rather, he cast a glance that would send shivers down anyone's spine.

"She's sleeping," he said quietly, as if it were a self-evident fact.

"Come on, she can't sleep forever," the guy chuckled, trying to defuse the situation. "I just wanted to invite her for coffee. Or something more interesting. There's a new chimera menagerie that just opened up, can you imagine?"

As if on cue, she slowly raised her head, blinked, and looked at him.

"Noisy," she mumbled sleepily and dropped her head back onto her folded arms. Anaxa barely smiled with the corner of his lips. But he didn't move.

The guy turned out to be persistent. The following days, he literally stalked her. He would slip candies into her notebook. He would leave notes with silly jokes on her desk. Once, he even brought a pillow, deciding it would be a "sweet gesture," since she was constantly sleeping.

She didn't react in any way. No gratitude, no irritation. She just... ignored him.

Anaxa watched. And he didn't like it at all.

He didn't know what jealousy was. He had never experienced anything like it. Too rational, too absorbed in his own thoughts. But now, a strange, unpleasant feeling was rising in his chest.

He began to glance more often in the direction of the familiar voice – the newcomer's voice. He noticed his attempts to get closer. How he would sometimes try to subtly touch her elbow – she would imperceptibly move away each time. But the guy seemed not to notice or didn't want to notice.

One day she missed a lecture, and Anaxa sat staring at the empty space beside him. His fingers nervously drummed on the table. Waiting for the end of the class, he immediately went to look for her.

He found her on a bench in the garden, where she usually wasn't. Next to her, of course, he was sitting and telling her something enthusiastically.

"...and I'm saying, to hell with those snake chimeras, they'd be better off breeding a hybrid with a rabbit! A long-eared chimera, can you imagine?!"

"No," she answered sleepily, without opening her eyes.

Anaxa approached. He stood between them, without saying a word. He just... stood there.

"Hey, buddy, can you wait a bit? I'm actually..."

"She's sleeping," Anaxa repeated. The guy sighed, stood up, and slapped his knees.

"Alright. A girl with character, I respect that. But maybe you could at least let her speak for herself?"

"She did."

Anaxa looked down at the girl. She opened one eye and muttered almost inaudibly:

"He's disturbing my sleep."

That was enough. The guy raised his hands and stepped back.

"Okay, okay. No offense, I get it. Competition isn't for everyone."

When he left, Anaxa slowly sat down next to her. He said nothing. But something intangible, fragile, hung in the air.

"He didn't understand hints," she said quietly, without opening her eyes.

"Obviously," Anaxa replied just as quietly.

Silence fell. But now there was a little more warmth in it. A little more closeness. He carefully moved the pillow that the guy had brought – and that she had discarded – closer to her.

"Uncomfortable," she mumbled.

"Then..." he hesitated, paused for a second, "use me."

She opened her eyes slightly. He blushed. Imperceptibly, of course. But the tips of his ears turned slightly pink.

"As a pillow," he explained. "I don't make noise. I don't move. And I hope I don't smell intrusive."

She silently settled down so that her head was on his lap.

"Yes, you'll do," she approved, closing her eyes. Anaxa looked away.

Now, as she slept, and only the rustling of leaves broke the silence, he allowed himself to lean down slightly and gently stroke her hair.

Silently. Tenderly. As if afraid to wake her.

And that was enough.

[cloudcountry]

SUMMARY: hobbies/habits i think they would pick up when they’re older

COMMENTS: i was thinkin hard about this but ofc rubia helped me on both leo's and haku's (as haku authority ofc ofc <333)

Jin picks up piano to cope with the dread of his younger years. You can often find him tentatively playing through the pieces he loves, worried about getting them right.

Tohma picks up a hobby like auto mechanics. It sounds odd at first until you remember that he was originally in the house full of junk cars...

Luca picks up writing children’s books. If possible, he would read them out to children at the local library, and talk about how he wrote each one for his little brother and you.

Kaito has much more time to bake now that he’s married and settled down with you! He always finds the time in the mornings to bake you a sweet treat before you leave for the day.

Alan starts organizing community service events for your area. He wants to be able to help out the youth and give back to the community at the same time.

Sho would pick up gardening as a way to grow his own herbs, vegetables, and fruits for you and his meals. He takes a lot of pride in his garden.

Leo would most likely pick up freelancing as a way to still go about his usual activities while maintaining the house. He’s mellowed out a lot since marrying you, but he’s still Leo.

Haru starts quilting, making little blankets for the animals (and big ones for you!) He’s definitely a huge animal guy with a bunch of pets in his older years.

Towa picks up gardening for sure, but especially the care of your wildflowers. He treasures each and every dandelion and will occasionally pick some up to eat for your both!

Ren starts steaming his video game playthroughs and even reactions to/recommendations of some horror movies. His followers beg to hear more about you but he always draws a hard line.

Taiga starts going out on the shooting range to remember his high school days. He feels the memories fade more and more with time, and he would like to hold onto the years in which he met you.

Romeo starts making his own jewelry. He’s very meticulous about the whole process and will screech at you if you interrupt him (he still loves you, yes.)

Ritsu starts making coffee every morning to start his day. At first it starts as a way for him to get his daily caffeine fix, but you can tell he’s genuinely interested about how the drink is made.

Subaru starts developing his own tea blends. He starts by buying the ingredients, and then gets advice from Sho on how to grow his own.

Haku would pick up more artsy hobbies to fill up the vacant spaces of his house. He wants, more than anything, to make your shared space a home.

Zenji would pick up cross stitching! You can find him curled up in his armchair when you come home, staring at his linen over the rim of his glasses, carefully sewing little people to life.

Edward starts traveling from place to place and insists you come with him. Oh, you have a job? But my dear, surely you have enough leave to spend some time with your husband...? He doesn’t have forever with you, you know...

Rui, upon finding out that he couldn’t kill plants, picked up anomalous plant caretaking in Darkwick. Now that he’s married to you, he adopts the plants for your world, and does his best to take care of them too.

Lyca starts volunteering in soup kitchens and food banks, putting those customer service skills he learned from Rui to work. Whenever he has free time on the weekends, he goes out and helps as many people as he can.

Yuri starts making soap for the two of you from scratch! You can find him outside working with lye and all of the other ingredients in his mad scientist get up just to keep you clean and healthy <3

Jiro starts knitting. He needs something to do with his hands when he’s not working, and creating blankets and hats for you and your loved ones works well enough for him!

[yourbestprincess]

Mein Kleines Mädchen

Older!König (40s) Young!reader (18- early 20s)

Giant age gap but y’know, size kink, slightly hyper fem!reader, reader is a female, König is rough and also has a cute little German accent and calls you cute pet names in German, König is also your dads bestie but not anymore! Creampie, slut-shaming but also praise , fingering.

Hope I didn’t miss anything! XD

(Gentle reminder that König is HUGE, I'm pretty sure he's 6'10 which, if you're average hight, is ginormous.)

You’ve always thought König was overly attractive, but you would never do anything…I mean he was your father’s best friend.

He always eyed you when they hung out, which was rare because he was always deployed.

König was way bigger than you were, he merely towered over you when you two would talk. Which, to say the least, you loved.

You thought he was so attractive. From how big he was to his greying ginger hair to his blue eyes which looked at you in such a way that made your stomach flutter.

****

He was finally coming over today. You were finally in collage now, in your eyes a grown woman.

He was staying the night according to your dad because he got kicked from his apartment from being gone so long, to which you weren’t complaining.

It was so early; almost too early, but you heard a knock at the door. Even before he knocked you felt his presence. Your heart pounds as you peak out of your window to see his car. You walk down the stairs, only in an oversized white t-shirt that covered your tight black shorts. You clear your shirt of any wrinkles before looking through the peephole and opening the door.

“Guten Morgen, schatz.” He smiles softly. you notice that he’s still quite dirty.

“Oh, ‘morning König.” you smile back softly before letting him in, your heart still pounding in your chest, it feels like it’s gonna run away.

He gives you a lousy side hug and drops his bags on the stairs before giving you a forehead kiss.

“Mm.” He breathes you in “Schatz, where is your father?” He backs away slightly to give you some sense of personal space.

“He’s working today until about 8:30. Sorry, I should probably let you settle in and shower I know you’re tired and-“

“Shh, liebling. Stay with me, I suppose I need some company, ja?” He looks down at you, reaching his calloused hand over and putting it on the side of your head in which you lean into.

“Okay, well first let me draw you a shower.” You bite your lip gently before leading him into the upstairs bathroom next to your room. He follows you, humming something you swear you've heard before.

"Du bist so ein liebes kleines Mädchen" (You're such a sweet little girl) König snickers while trailing so close behind you that he's basically hovering over you.

He thought you didn't understand what he was saying. You really touched up on your German before he came back from whatever mission he was on. You knew he said things to you in German before, but he never thought you'd know. Not until now. Your blood wastes no time making your cheeks hot and red with straight fluster.

He grips your arm and turns you with his mere strength. "Oh dear. Du verstehst jetzt?" (Oh dear. You understand now?) He tilts his head, squatting down to your hight.

You try to look down but he forces you to look up at him with your practically pathetic puppy eyes. "Ja...since you got deployed again. I should've told you, but I just wanted to know what you were saying to me."

His eyes feel like they're staring sharply into your soul, like he was looking straight into your heart. He knows that your heart grows and yearns from him. "Ja? Good girl." His accent spills out more when he's eager.

"C'mon lieb." He stands back up letting you finish showing him to the bathroom. You turn on the shower and make sure its the perfect temperature for such a man. You set out a towel and an unopened bar of soap.

"Okay, there you go. You can..um meet me in my room when you're done." You say with just a little bit of excitement in your voice.

"Ja, liebling." He says with a soothing voice rather than before.

As you wait in your room, you change into a pink see-though lingerie dress with a matching pink thong. To top it all off, you wear some white thigh high socks. You sit pretty on your bed and wait for him to get out of the shower.

****

You hear a knock at your bedroom door. "Hey, Liebling? Can I come in?" You ignore it for a second but before you can cover up he busts through the door.

"Mein gott liebe. Scheisse... don't do this to me. You know I can't hold back." His is heavy. It's obvious that blood went to his dick just from looking at his towel.

"I don't want you to hold back." You say as he steps into the room. His hair wet and towel barley covers his v-line. He sighs and walks closer to you.

“Mein schatz…What a fucking tease are you? Gut Gott.” He towers over your small frame, lifting up your legs and pressing kisses on your thighs as he props them up on his shoulder. His cock is fully hard, it’s throbbing and oozing out pre-cum.

“Bitte…König. You know how many years I’ve been waiting for this..” Your panties are so soaked that it’s visible. Who knew you’d be such a slut for the man who was there when your father wasn’t.

He moves your panties to the side with his middle finger. He pushes his middle and ring fingers inside you and rubs his thumb on your throbbing clit. You cry and whine under his touch. He knows how bad you need him.

“Is this too much schatz? If it is, how am I going to put this cock in you? It craves you, you know that liebling?” He takes his hand away from your wet entrance and lets the towel fall to his ankles. His cock springs up, you can see pearls of pre-cum dripping onto your bed. He gives his drooling shaft a couple of pumps before spitting on his middle and ring finger to wet your entrance just enough to fit his massive cock.

“Ready liebe?” He shoves the tip past your entrance making your shutter and whine from the size.

“Ja, you’ll be okay mein schatz.” You bite your lip and cry with him going deeper, trying to fit his 8 1/2 inches in your tight pussy that’s just taking him so well.

“König…s'too much..Bitte! Pleasepleaseplease!…” You whine and moan from the pain. Your thoughts are clouded with pure white pleasure. You know how wrong this is, but, Mein Gott, is it worth it. You're gripping his back and begging for god knows what.

“Nimm es einfach wie ein braves Mädchen, ja? Getting close for me already, Gut gott." (Just take it like a good girl, yeah?) König can't help but notice how pathetic and weak you are under him. His blunt tip pushes against your g-spot over and over again until you're crying and going cock-dumb over him.

" Du liebst es einfach, wie eine Schlampe gefickt zu werden, nicht wahr? What a good fucking girl for me." (You just love getting fucked like a slut, don't you? What a good fucking girl for me.) You can feel his thrusts getting sloppier and heavier. His breath begins to hitch and he can't help but whimper just a little from how tight his Liebe is.

"König...gonna cum right now.. Vati... fuck- feels s'good..." Before you can even think about getting close, he pulls out of you and sits down on your bed, getting comfy before motioning you to sit on his lap. You slide off your panties and see-through dress, craving that skin to skin with him.

"Ja, that's it Mein Schatz, ease down on me, you've got it Liebe" As you sink down on his fat cock, he notices that it makes an indentation on your tummy.

"S'too much König... too big." You barely make out in whimpers and cries. He continues to thrust deeper into your sopping cunt. You really hope your dad isn't gonna come home anytime soon.

"Shh, It's alright, you'll be okay Mein Liebe. Just let me use this pretty pussy, ja?" He pushes his cock so far up into you that you were genuinely surprised on how he was able to bottom out in you. His thrusts are sharp and fast with so much power that you moan everytime he thrusts. König knows you're close from the way you're clenching down on him and how loud your moans are.

"Bitte... I need to.." You cry out before König's thrusts become sharper and somehow even faster.

"I know, I know. I'm gonna come with... scheisse- come with you, okay?" He can't stop grunting now, its all pleasure now. White pleasure clouds his visions.

"Christ- Ich liebe dich schatz- fuck. I always have. And look, now I get to fuck this little body of yours and even fill you up with my cum, eh?"

His vision returns to you, already cumming on his cock. So pathetic, you can't even speak. You're too entranced at cumming on his thick cock to even think. And now here he is, filling you up with his potent cum. He pumps and twitches just a few more times until you two ride out your orgasm.

****

"Was I too much Mein liebe?" He wraps his big arms around you as you snuggle into him. warm sheets cover your bodies.

"You were perfect. Everything and more than what I was ever expecting." He wraps you into him even tighter, pressing kisses on your forehead and soft lips.

"Ich liebe dich auch, König."

Your dad's gonna be so pissed when he finds out his little girl is getting fucked by his so called best friend.

[baddiewiththebook]

Over the Years | e.m x reader [18+] | EXTRA

-> The origin story of Eddie Munson, and how he fell in love with the worst person he possibly could - his best friend.

-> eddie munson x you (she/her)

-> friends to lovers, slow burn, angst

-> warnings - strong language, suggestive themes, smut [18+]

a/n EXTRA, EXTRA, READ ALL ABOUT IT. This my dear readers is a bonus chapter that does not have to be read to understand the story. But, I do hope you take a look to feel more connected to our favorite characters. xo

-> <-

July 1983*

“Jeff, you got a light?” Eddie’s crouched down on top of the gravel in between your place and his with a firework held between his fingers. The lighter that he was using flickers, but sizzles and burns out before he gets a chance to light the fuse.

The Fourth of July has always been an excuse to blow up something without getting in too much trouble with it. Although, you’re sure the curtains moving back and forth at the Peterson’s trailer is a sure sign that you’re being monitored. A quick call to the sheriff would blow your party.

While Jeff helps Eddie light the firework, you sit back on your porch step. The light from the sky is just a few stars dotting the clear deep blue sky. It’s warm for a summer evening. Without the sun, however, your legs feel the cool breeze and you shiver.

You’ve already gone back inside to slip on a sweater that you’ve zipped up to your chest. Hugging yourself tightly, you wish the boys would get on with their firework show already. It’s nearing eleven in the evening, and your eyelids are burning from trying to stay awake.

“Should we dip?” Robin is bored. She already chased you around with a sparkler until the both of you were out of breath. You were practically up a tree trying to get away from her.

You want to tell her yes. There’s a set of cozy blankets draped across your floor, a bag of forgotten popcorn and a stack of films calling your names. Your plans for the evening had changed when Eddie and his boys came home with a ton of firecrackers that they weaseled off of some guy in a sleezy pickup off the main road near your place.

You sit far enough back, and wait for the explosion.

Just as you’re ready to give up, Gareth drapes a blanket across your bare legs. He spares enough for Robin to scoot over and hug the corner.

“Thanks,” you scan over his bare arms. “Won’t you be cold?”

“I run hot,” he shoves his hands into his pockets, and tries not to tremble on his way back to the circle of boys surrounding the lame firework.

Robin nudges you, “has he asked you out yet?”

“What do you mean?” You hold the blanket closer.

“Come on,” she replies, “you have him in the palm of your hand.”

The boys are flocking around like wild animals that have the last scrap of food. Eddie's running away from the lit firework, but trips over Gareth behind him. They argue, while the firework sizzles then bursts into the sky shooting off bright blues into the night. You watch until all that's left is a cloud of smoke fizzling in the distance.

“Alright, who are you interested in?” You tease Robin. “Anyone catch your eye?"

Robin's quiet about her love life. Perhaps, a private soul. You've never asked her out front why you've never heard of any boy that she finds hot. It's always about you and your problems.

There's only one boy in particular that Robin has come closer to in the past few years. He's the same boy that you've grown up with, so you can only assume that she's waiting for the right time.

“Oh,” you clear your throat. Robin's gone out in space, while staring at a particular subject. “I mean- it makes sense. Eddie’s- er-.”

Robin stops you there, “it’s not Eddie.”

You snort.

Here’s the thing about Robin. Ever since she was a little girl, Robin Buckley knew that something about her was different than the other girls.

In elementary school, Robin played like any other little girl. She can recall the projects they would do in class like drawing picture of mom and dad, or beading a bracelet together. Something that got her attention was how well she could braid her hair into two strands on either side of her head.

During recess, she would become the girl to go to when someone needed a quick fix. She can remember how the strands of hair flowed through her fingertips, so softly like velvet.

Sometime when the weather began to warm, the girls in her class would bring their dolls from home to play house. This prompted a week’s worth of begging and pleading to her own mother to buy her dolls. And, her mom did.

Robin liked the Barbie dolls her mom bought for her. She disliked Ken. Ken's became often were forgotten about. They were dumped in the bottom of a storage bin that was slowly climbing higher to the top with various toys that Robin would loose interest with.

It didn’t occur to her that other little girls were creating a life for their Barbie dolls. They would have little houses made from their pillows and their other creative imaginations. Barbie would have a family with Ken, which was usually a different small stuffed toy named Mary or Mark. They’d have a simple, but happy American life.

Robin’s Barbie didn’t have a Ken. Actually, Barbie despised Ken and his system of oppression against women. Especially, the way he would force her to have his children, just to leave for work every morning and make her his breeding mule.

In more or less words.

Rather than Barbie having Ken bossing her around, Robin’s Barbie had another friend - Other Barbie. Other Barbie made frequent visits to Barbie’s house, and she even stayed the night once or twice (or every night - sun up to sun down). Yes, Barbie lived a lavish life with her dogs and her cats with Other Barbie.

It really shocked her that the girls at school despised Robin’s plan to leave Ken out of the story. That two girls living together (which, they obviously weren’t living together) isn’t appropriate when you’re forty-five and have no children.

Robin disagrees.

In fact, she decides right then that living a life with another woman until they die wouldn’t be a poor plan. Neither of them would have husbands and neither of them would have children. They could have hobbies. They could have pets.

Robin was in for a big shock when she got into middle school, and everyone began developing. To her, the boys became grossly male. The woman became beautiful beyond words. It's much less about their physical form, but their conversations are much more intelligent and more forgiving than to have to explain to an angry man how the world spins fifteen times over.

“Robin,” you grab her attention when you swipe the pad of your thumb over her cheek. Brushing a few strands of her hair away, you’re full of concern when you say, “you’re crying. What’s wrong?”

Robin touches her tear kissed cheek not realizing that she's sprung a leak. While she adores you deeply, you could never come to understand what she goes through daily. If not for the town, the whole world hates her. She's seen the hatred in churches, in newspapers and magazines. The news is always shaming people like her - and, recommending that she be fixed.

In quick step, Robin races back inside to calm herself down back into her safe little bubble where she can smile and play pretend once again. This little life of hers is all that she aspires to have. If she has to be alone forever then so be it.

“I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings,” your voice comes barely above a whisper to her.

Robin jumps out of her skin. Why did you follow her inside?

“It’s not you,” she sniffs. “Allergies.”

“Come on, Rob,” you sort out her lie. “What’s wrong?”

Robin's unsure what's made her say it. The words shock her tongue, as though this is the first time she's ever admitted out loud how she feels. Maybe it is? Spewing the words over again, she waits for the worst to come. You're done being her friend. You never want to see her again!

Yet, you’re quiet.

“Didn’t you hear me?” Robin drops her voice to barely a whisper. “I’m- I’m gay. I like women."

“Okay," you nod slightly. "That's-"

“What?” Robin blinks a few times.

“That's okay."

Robin wobbled. The tight knot in her belly loosened. You didn't care? All this worrying and you still hold the same glistening stare you always share with her. You hold a grin from ear to ear with your arms out wide for her to fall into.

"But," you hold up a finger, before Robin can get too comfortable. "You never told me who you like."

Robin reddens, and you laugh.

-> <-

tags -> @leelei1980 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @jesuisbuginette @starrywhitenight @meetmeatyourworst @munsonburn3r @5tud10-54r4h @pvdulmol @loveryanax @am0iur

[7ndipity]

When they call you clingy

Ot7 x Reader

Summary: different scenarios in which they've called you clingy.

Warnings: angst, swearing, depression, jk calls himself an idiot, not proofread.

A/N: Thanks to the lovely anon for this request! I'm gonna be honest, these are all over the place. Some are angsty, some are fluffy, Jimin's is just straight-up comfort because apparently he's part of my emotional support squad. Idk, I hope you like them anyway!

Masterlist

Requests are open

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Seokjin: Bickering with Jin was something that happened often, usually over something you both knew was ridiculous to fight over, like the validity of mint chocolate as an ice cream flavor, but both of you were too stubborn to back down.

Tonight's argument: whether holding hands while sleeping was clingy or not.

"I think it's nice." You argued.

"That's because you're clingy!" He retorted.

"I'm clingy?" You asked, offended. "Have you seen you?"

"What?"

"Last week at that party, you couldn't stand me being more than five feet away from you!"

"That's cause Wooseok kept staring at you and I didn't want him trying to make a pass at you." He exclaimed.

You blinked. "That was why?"

"Yes!"

You paused, caught of guard by his admission. "That's kinda sweet."

"Because I'm a sweet boyfriend." He said, still slightly defensive.

"You are." You assented, coming over and kissing him, making him finally crack and give you a small grin.

"Can we please just go to bed now?" He asked.

"Will you let me hold your hand?"

He sighed. "Yes."

"Then yes."

Yoongi: It was late in the afternoon when you brought him a coffee while he was working on his laptop and, noticing the concentrated frown on his face, leaned down and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"Agh, clingy." He grumbled, not with any venom, just his usual tone, but it was still enough to make you draw back, excusing yourself so he could work.

Were you clingy? You knew you were more physically affectionate than he was, but he'd never seemed to find it bothersome, but you couldn't help second guessing yourself after his comment.

Later, when he came through to join you, he noticed you were a bit quiet, but didn't think much of it at first, until you sat down on the opposite end of the sofa from him.

"C'mere." He said, patting the space next him.

"I'm good here right now." You said, making him frown in confusion.

"Is something wrong?" He asked.

"No."

"Then why are you way over there?"

"I'm just trying to give you some space."

"I don't want space." He pouted.

"But you said I was clingy."

"I didn't say it was a bad thing." He said, sliding over next to you. "You know I'm not the best at showing my feelings, but that's one of the things I admire about you. You're not afraid to be the one to reach out first, and sometimes I need that. I need clingy."

"Really?" You quirked a brow at him.

"A little, just a little." He warned, trying to hold his hands up in defense, but it was too late, you'd already tackled him.

Hoseok: It was a clear night as the two of you walked around the city, enjoying one of your first proper date nights since he'd got back from tour, and you were taking full advantage of it, trying to keep as close to him as possible, whether holding his hand or wrapping your arms round his waist.

"My clingy baby." He chuckled as you wound yourself around him yet again. It wasn't said unkindly, but for some reason the word kept bouncing around in your head, making you self-consciously shift back to just holding hands. Were you being too clingy? You had always thought that Hobi liked your affectionate nature, but now you were worried if it was a little too much, even for him. Noticing your change in mood, he gave your hand a little squeeze. "You okay?"

"Mhm." You hummed, still thinking.

"You sure?" He asked.

"Am I being too clingy?" You asked, glancing over him.

"What?! Of course not!" He said, stunned. "I was just teasing you earlier, Baby. Trust me, you could never be too clingy for me."

"You sure?" You asked.

"Definitely." He said, opening his arms. "Now get back over here."

Namjoon: Joon had been working almost non-stop for weeks and you could tell it was taking a toll on him, the fatigue clear on his face, but he rebuffed you at every attempt to try and help him relax.

"Can you just give me some goddamn space, you're so clingy!" He'd finally snapped one evening, the final straw in your mind.

That was three days ago, and you hadn't been back to his place since, ignoring his calls and texts. You hated shutting him out the same way he had done you, but you also weren't going stand by and put up with his behavior anymore. If it was space that he wanted, he could have it.

Until you open the door the next morning to a very disheveled looking Joon.

"What are you-?"

"I'm sorry." He blurted out. "For acting the way I have, and for yelling at you like that. I know you just trying to look out for me, you didn't deserve any of that." He paused to catch his breath, seeming to brace himself before looking back up at you. "The past few days have been absolute hell without you, but it made me realize how much I love you, and I know it's shitty timing to say that, but I-"

You shut him up with a quick kiss, knowing if you didn't stop him, he would probably keep talking for at least a half hour.

"You wanna come in?" You asked, to which he quickly nodded.

He still had some apologizing to do, but it was a start.

Jimin: Some day are just shit. Some days feel like you're just circling the drain, constantly the verge of tipping over the edge into the deep abyss, and all you want is something to hold onto and keep you from falling.

Which is why, when Jimin came home late that evening and fell on the bed next to you, you had immediately wrapped yourself around him and refused to let go.

"What's got you so clingy?" He'd teased, trying to tilt your chin up, but you wouldn't let him, tucking your face further into his neck.

"Babe?" He asked, more worried now, noticing you shaking slightly against him. "What's wrong?"

You just shook your head. "Bad day."

"I'm sorry." He said softly, understanding the situation now. "Can I do something? Do you need anything?"

"Just you." You mumbled, your breathing unsteady as you tried to keep from crying.

He held you tighter. "I'm here. I've got you."

Taehyung: "I like this." He mumbled, tracing patterns along your back with his fingers.

"Yeah?"

"Mhm, I like it when you're clingy."

As soon as he'd walked through the door, you had latched onto him, having not seen him in over two weeks while he was traveling.

You frowned, propping yourself up on your hands to look at him. "I'm not clingy."

"That would sound a lot more convincing if you weren't laying on top of me right now." He chuckled.

Shooting him a look, you moved to roll off of him, but he stopped you, holding you tightly by the waist. "Where do you think you're going?"

"I don't wanna be clingy." You said stubbornly.

"But I like it!" He laughed.

"Well, I don't! Being clingy isn't supposed to be a good thing!" You said.

"I think it is, at least the way you do it." He said, rubbing circles on you sides with his thumbs. "It's nice to know that you like me as much as I like you."

"So, you're admitting you're clingy too?" You poked him.

"You had to ask?" He suddenly rolled till you were pinned under him. "Darling, you have no idea how clingy I can be."

Jungkook: It had caught you off guard when you overhead him talking to one of his friends after dinner. "Y/n's the same way, they're so clingy!" He'd laughed. It might have only been a joke, but it cut you deeper than you cared to admit.

You knew you tended to stick him more when you went out, but he'd always seemed okay with it. Till now now anyway.

For the rest of the evening, you couldn't help but shy away a bit from him, keeping a little distance between you, causing him to grow increasingly confused.

"Are you mad a me?" He asked, once you were alone in the car.

"Do you really think I'm clingy? You asked, not bothering to beat around the bush.

"What?"

"That's what you said to Mingyu." You said, looking down.

"That was- I was just joking around." He said trying to keep his tone light, but it became clear by your lack of response that you weren't amused. "I don't think you're clingy."

"Then why say it?"

"Because-" He sighed. "Because I'm an idiot. I was just trying to be cool, and I know that sounds dumb and childish, but I don't know how else to explain it." He looked over at you. "I'm sorry."

You studied him for a moment. "I expect cuddles as compensation for this."

"Of course." He agreed.

"And don't call my boyfriend an idiot."

"You got it." He grinned at you, starting the car.

[gloomwitchwrites]

Ink & Needle // Chapter Eighteen

Tattoo Artist Simon “Ghost” Riley x Female Reader

Chapter Specific Warnings: tattoo shop au, oral sex, unprotected piv, cowgirl position, sex over a motorcycle, creampie, brief angst, fluff

Word Count: 5.5k

You and Simon enjoy your time alone in Scotland. A week after returning, Simon receives a cryptic text from Johnny.

Chapter Seventeen // Chapter Nineteen

ao3 // main masterlist // ink & needle masterlist

Dreamless.

How long has it been? How long since Simon can recall a night where his dreams were not dark figments?

Years, maybe.

But that is his first thought upon waking. His sleep is a blank, endless nothing. A far cry from the violence Simon often has to sit with in his head. He blinks slowly, the edges of his vision still laced with a sleepiness that clings to him like honey. In his chest is a calmness that is foreign to him.

It is unknown. And it is strange.

The fire in the hearth is out, leaving behind the faintest scent of burnt wood. From the window next to the bed, morning light filters in through the flimsy curtain. It’s not enough to brighten the room but it does dig into Simon’s senses, drawing him further away from rest.

Simon blinks again. Yawns. Turns his head.

His chin brushes against hair, and you stir in his arms, tucking closer against him. Your hand rests on his chest, and your head uses his shoulder as a pillow. Every breath you take is slow and deep.

Reaching out, Simon brushes your hair out of your face. The small touch makes your nose twitch but you do not stir. His arm that rests against your back rises, and Simon places his hand against your bare hip.

There is no reason to wake you even though his dick is aching something fierce. The fucker can wait until you’re awake and ready for him. There are so many positions Simon wants to put you in, and the bed is just the start. There’s the couch, the dining table, the shower—fuck. Simon will even take you on the floor.

It’s three years of smothered desire all coming up at once.

Simon stares at the ceiling. He breathes in and exhales slowly, attempting to think of nothing with the hope that he might drift off again. But try as he might, there are deeper things lurking in the recesses of his mind. That shadow of a man—the familiar shape that Simon spent years stalking—still sits unsteady. Trying to shut it out is impossible. It keeps creeping back.

And it hardly scratches the surface.

British Intelligence might come knocking, and Price went out of his fucking way not once but twice just to talk to Simon about Kit Walsh’s reemergence. Simon shouldn’t worry about any of it. He’s not in the field anymore. He has his shop now. He’s retired.

Sighing, Simon closes his eyes, breathing deep again in an attempt to silent those anxieties from slipping in where they aren’t wanted. Repeating the process, Simon falls back into calm. He thinks of you during his meditation, and that does it, shifting him into a safer space.

Your hand on his chest twitches, fingers curling slightly before relaxing. It pulls Simon back to the cottage, his eyelids opening, the ceiling greeting him in his return. He reaches for your hand, clasping it in his own. Turning your wrist, he gazes on your palm, admiring the lines. Even here you are beautiful.

Simon brings your palm to his lips. The kiss is gentle. A whisper. It’s not much of anything, but you make a noise anyway. Shifting in his arms, you start to awaken, yawning widely before your eyelids blink slowly.

He turns his head, and his gaze falls on your smile.

“Morning,” you murmur.

Simon brings your hand back to his chest but he does not let go. “Morning, love.”

You snuggle against his side, face turned into his ribs. You place a couple of kisses there, and Simon resists the urge to laugh. Apparently, he’s fucking ticklish there.

“Sleep okay?” you ask, resting your chin on his pectoral.

“I did. You?”

You hum in agreement, eyelids closing as Simon’s thumb strokes over the back of your hand. “What’s the plan for today?”

Simon grins. “Thought we talked about this last night?”

“That’s right. How could I forget,” you reply, eyelids still shut, warding off wakefulness. “Your plan is to fuck me senseless.”

“You’re not senseless,” muses Simon.

“No. I am not.”

Simon slides up your arm and grasps your bicep, drawing you on top of him. You giggle, and playfully slap at him. Simon wraps his arms around your back and traps you there.

“Kiss me,” he says.

You’re still smiling, still a bit giggly when you quickly peck him on the mouth.

“More,” he coos.

“Simon.”

“More,” he demands.

Simon needs you like tree roots need the earth. You ground him somehow, and though he does not entirely understand, it’s the only thing bringing him peace.

Your smile shifts from a playful tease to one of sultry softness. Leaning forward, you place both hands firmly on Simon’s chest. Closing the distance is agony. Simon wants your mouth on his now, but you’re fine with taking your time. With teasing.

When your lips finally touch his, it is gentle. Not a peck or a brush of the lips, but a lovely little kiss that is full of warmth and sends Simon’s heart hammering. His arms ease from around your back and slide downward to grasp your ass before settling on your hips.

You push up so that you’re over him, and then the kisses come like a waterfall. The two of you push and pull, drawing close until one of you needs air. It is a dance. A tangle. Simon’s hands are everywhere. He cannot settle.

He is desperate. Hungry.

Simon is so focused on your mouth that he doesn’t notice your hand until your fingers wrap around him. You squeeze lightly, the tips of your fingernails scratching against the base.

Simon groans against your mouth. Breaking the kiss, he grabs your throat, halting any forward movement on your end.

“Don’t like it when I touch you?” you tease.

“I like it,” he rasps, thumb brushing over your bottom lip.

“Then let me touch you,” you sigh, eyelids a bit heavy, gaze focused on his mouth.

Simon’s need for control is like breathing to him. From his military career to how he runs his shop, Simon is deliberate with his choices. But this is not the battlefield. You are not a customer.

You are so much more.

You are everything.

And fuck it—this trip is about the two of you. Simon can relax. He can hand you control for a minute.

Slowly, Simon releases your throat and crosses his arms behind his head.

“Touch me,” he says, settling into the bed.

Simon might appear calm on the outside but his stomach is a knot. Tension sits tight in his abdomen. Anticipation is like a hot knife scorching his skin.

Your hand around his cock strokes up, and then you descend, leaving a trail of soft kisses behind. You’re gentle with him, and it only reminds Simon of how soft he is with you.

It is surprising. Breath-stealing.

You squeeze his muscled thigh, trace the v of his pelvis of your tongue, and lazily pump his cock like you have all the time in the world. Simon’s fingers itch. He wants to touch you back and tangle his fingers in your hair.

Further you descend, and then your tongue is on him. Just the tip across the head. Over the slit. Swiping up the precum that blooms there. The muscles in Simon’s stomach clench and release. You do it again, and they spasm.

Simon swallows down the groan forming in his throat.

If you’re going to tease him like this, Simon won’t be able to control himself. He’ll slip, and you’ll end up on your back with your legs spread.

You settle between his legs, one hand wrapped around the base and the other resting on the top of his thigh. You pump him a few times before leaning in to kiss the tip. A spasm blooms in Simon’s back, everything tightening with the anticipation.

A pearly bead of precum blooms in the slit, followed by another. You eagerly lick it up with the tip of your tongue, and then swirl around the head before licking his entire length from base to tip.

Simon hisses, hands clenching into fists. Fuck, he wants to touch you. He also wants to draw you back up his body and kiss you until you’re breathless.

And you’re teasing him, working between soft, open-mouthed kisses and slow licks of your tongue. Simon is trying hard not to fidget and squirm, but it’s difficult, especially with his arms crossed behind his head.

When you finally take him into your mouth, Simon’s eyes nearly roll to the back of his head. You hold him there, the saliva collecting, some of it even passes from your lips. Simon inhales, and you swallow him down, your lips touching your hand.

Simon is fucking gone. Done. He planned on finishing inside of your perfect fucking pussy every time during this trip but he might blow right here and now if you keep this up.

Hollowing your cheeks, you slide back up, and then repeat the process, bringing in your hand to pump him in time with your upward passes.

Simon can hardly focus. You are messy. Eager. Enthusiastic. He groans loudly, nearly choking on the end of it when you completely throat him. Every instinct is telling him to tangle his fingers in your hair, to seize control and make you squirm.

You suck hard, and Simon’s hips jerk without warning.

No. He’s still going to finish in your pussy. Fuck it.

Uncrossing his arms, Simon reaches out and forces your mouth from his cock. It falls from your lips with a wet pop. There is saliva on your lips, and a lusty haze over your eyes.

You’ve touched him, and now Simon wants his control back.

“Staddle me.” Simon almost doesn’t recognize how raspy his voice is. He sounds like a rabid animal. “Fuck yourself on my cock until you come.”

Your answering whimper is sweet, and the way your crawl up his body even sweeter.

With palms flat against his chest, you push back into a seated position. You reach down between your bodies and wrap your fingers around his cock, flexing your hips upward. With just the slightest shift of your hips, the head of Simon’s cock presses to your pussy.

This time Simon touches. His hands dart out to grab hold of your hips. You’re sinking down on him. Parting. Opening. Welcoming him inside. You’re tight and wet and fucking perfect as more of him disappears.

“Fuck,” Simons groans loudly as you push down on his chest to flex your hips up and back down on him.

You lift, roll, go back down. Again. Again. And again, until you’ve taken every fucking inch of him. You’re doing exactly as instructed, fucking yourself on his cock. Watching you is just as wanton.

Simon could get used to this. You in his bed, and greeting the day with you on top of him.

One hand slides up to your waist and then shifts to your stomach, traveling up between your breasts. Simon wraps his hand around your throat, and you instinctually bend into the touch.

“Say my name,” growls Simon, his fingers digging into your flesh. “Say it.”

Your lips part with a shaky breath. “Simon.”

His cock is glossy, disappearing and reappearing with every bounce and roll of your hips. Simon’s gaze locks on to the spot, of your pussy taking him entirely. Fuck, you’re absolute gorgeous.

“Again, love. Say my name again.”

Simon finds your clit, rubbing circles there. Your pussy clenches around him, squeezing so hard that Simon starts silently listing things on 141 Ink’s nightly checklist to keep himself from finishing.

Your head falls back, exposing your neck. “Simon,” you moan.

You shudder, body clenching. Simon watches it all, absorbing all the little details from how your chest heaves and your thighs quiver.

His resolve shatters. Breaks.

Simon sits up and wraps his arms around your waist, rolling you onto your back. He keeps himself inside, and once you’re flat, he starts to thrust with abandon, seeking his own end.

It comes fast. And Simon smothers his groan by claiming your mouth in a fierce kiss. Your arms drape over the back of his neck, and your thighs tighten around his hips. He pumps shallowly, savoring the feel of your cum-filled pussy.

You’re his. Fucking his.

Simon’s hips still, and the kisses slow.

“That’s one way to start the morning,” you murmur against his mouth.

Simon grins and kisses you again. “Could be every morning.”

“Promise,” you reply, nipping at his bottom lip.

Simon groans and draws back, playfully thrusting into you even as his cock softens. You burst out laughing, one hand covering his face as Simon makes smooching noises.

“You’re a menace, Simon,” you giggle, trying to wiggle away from him.

Scooping you up in his arms, Simon brings the two of you to a seated position. “Let’s get you showered and fed.”

You arch an eyebrow, grasping the sides of his face. “Are you joining me?”

Simon does join you, and even in the shower he cannot keep his hands off your body. You are an addiction. A deep craving. A never-ending sweet tooth that cannot be satisfied. The shower is large enough to fit both of you, and Simon takes every advantage, filling the steamy room with your moans.

At breakfast, Simon places a black helmet on the table.

“What’s this?” you ask.

“Yours.”

“Mine?”

Simon nods. “You said you wanted some fresh highland air.”

You pop your spoon into your mouth, and then remove it slowly. “You told me that you’d open a window.”

Simon did say that, but he was also lost in a haze, the lust in his bones animalistic in its need for you. Last night he needed to possess. That’s all.

“I did,” he agrees. “But I also want to show you something. Take the afternoon.”

Your gaze shifts from Simon to the helmet and then back to him. “I should change.”

“You should.”

At the main house, Simon uncovers the sport bike. It’s Johnny’s, the one he purchased before joining the military. It’s old. Dirty. But it’ll do the job. Simon doesn’t want to take the SUV for this. It might be the middle of November, but the weather is decent, if a bit overcast.

You stand off to the side, clutching the helmet in front of you. Even from where Simon examines the bike, he can see how eager you are. You’re nearly on your toes, bouncing with excitement.

It pleases Simon to know he’s about to make you happy in a different way. Sex is nice, but your smile upon seeing the sport bike twists his heart. He wants you to smile like that all time, not just when he has his cock inside you.

Simon kicks the stand up and wheels it out into the open, bringing the stand back down once the bike meets gravel.

“You’ve ever been on one before?”

You shake your head. “No. But I’ve always wanted to.”

A new memory then. Good.

Simon pats the seat. “Need to talk safety.”

You nod and step up to Simon, staring down at the bike.

Simon points with the tip of his shoe. “These are your footpegs.” He catches it, and then pulls it out on one side before reaching over and doing the same for the other. “You’ll rest your feet here when you’re on the back.”

He then points to the exhaust. “Careful your heels don’t touch this. It will melt your fucking shoes.”

Again, you nod, but you don’t interrupt. Simon can’t gauge whether or not you’re picking it all up.

“You’ll sit here.” He pats the passenger seat. “I’ll get on. And then you will.”

Simon steps away from the sport bike and glances down at you. Your gaze lingers on the bike before it shifts to him. “Hold on to me at all times. Around the waist is best.” He points to the gas tank. “Place your hands against that when we’re slowing down or coming to a stop if you think you need it.”

“Will I fall off if I don’t?”

The question startles him. The very idea of you falling off the bike while he’s driving makes a small part of his brain reconsider even taking this short trip in the first place.

“Not necessarily. Just make sure you’re moving with me.”

You frown. “What do you mean?”

“If we’re going around a curve, lean into it like I do. Don’t try to remain upright or lean too far. Might throw us off balance.”

“That’s it?”

Simon shrugs. “It’s the basics.”

You straighten your shoulders, determination on your face. “I can handle it.”

Simon cups your cheek and steps into your space. Leaning forward, he places a quick kiss on your forehead.

“You’ll do fine,” he says, pulling away. “Let’s get that helmet on.”

Simon watches as you struggle to put it on. You make a weird face and then it’s sliding into place. The straps dangle and you stand there with arms out like you’re ready to go.

“Good?” you ask, voice a bit muffled.

“Fucking hell,” mutters Simon, reaching for the straps.

With one hand, he flips up the visor, revealing your eyes. Simon secures the snaps into place and then he tugs on them, causing you to stumble into his arms.

“Simon!” you gasp, grabbing onto his forearms to keep yourself from smacking into his chest.

“Can’t even put a helmet on properly,” he tuts. “What am I going to do with you?”

You groan like you’re overly annoyed with him and Simon grins, squeezing your waist before smacking your ass. You swipe out at him but completely miss. With a grin, Simon saunters backward and retrieves his own helmet.

Usually, Simon wears a balaclava underneath, but without one, all he has is a covering for his mouth and nose. He secures it in place before putting on his own helmet.

“Ready?” he asks.

“Ready!” you exclaim, hands clasped in front of you.

Reaching out, Simon snags your arm and draws you in. He lightly taps the front of his helmet against yours. Your answering giggle and the crinkling in the corner of your eyes pleases him. Simon wants to bottle up your happiness and keep it forever.

He taps the top of your helmet before heading for the bike. Simon kicks up the stand and tosses his leg over the side of the bike. Reaching out, Simon offers you his left hand. You take it and put one foot on the footpeg, pushing yourself up and onto the seat.

Your hands slide over his waist and come to a rest on his stomach. Simon answers by reaching back and squeezing your thigh.

The bike flares to life, the engine roaring before mellowing out. Simon brings his feet up, and then the two of you are off, leaving gravel for paved road. You’re perfection the whole way, leaning with him during turns, and keeping your arms around him.

Driving is calming for Simon. It doesn’t matter if he’s behind the wheel of a car or on a bike. It’s all soothing to him. Ever since his injury and retirement, Simon’s excursions on the back of his sport bike have dwindled. He does own one, but he hasn’t brought the thing out in months.

This is almost cathartic. Completely natural.

As Simon approaches their destination, he turns off onto a gravel path that gives way to dirt. There are no trees this way, and there are no cars. It’s likely illegal to be driving over unpaved road like this, but Simon doesn’t give a fuck about the risk. What he cares about is giving you a view, and making new memories with the woman he cares about most.

Ascending a ridge, Simon comes to a stop, turning the bike and shutting it off.

To the left is the open sea.

There is no one around. No cars or noise. Just the view. And fresh highland air.

Simon twists a bit and offers you his arm Your dismount isn’t graceful but you don’t stumble. Instead, you’re hastily pulling on the straps in your eagerness to remove the helmet. When you have it off, Simon is just getting off the bike.

Your smile is so wide and fierce. He’s never seen you like this. There is a sense of adventure he didn’t realize was there this whole time. Simon removes his helmet and face covering. Holding his helmet in one hand, he walks up behind you, wrapping one arm around your waist to hold you close.

You sink against him, your hand covering his. “Thank you, Simon.”

He can hardly hear you over the crashing waves below, but he does, and his answer is a soft kiss to the top of your head.

The two of you stand there, gazing out at the ocean. Neither of you speaks, and Simon doesn’t mind. It’s peaceful simply existing in your presence. Simon doesn’t need to think about anything. He can hold you close to him, and that’s enough.

You twist in his arm and glance up at him. Your eyes are soft and full of an emotion that Simon first registers as love. Yet that can’t be right. You haven’t said that word to him, but neither as he.

Affection, yes. But love? Not yet.

Not yet.

Simon’s gaze drops to those luscious lips and he cannot resist. He meets them with his own, and you greet him eagerly. It is a slow dance of self-control. Simon wants to consume as much as he wants to savor. But he’s not the one seeking more. You’re ravenous, deepening each kiss until Simon swears he can taste the salt of the sea on his tongue.

Drawing back is torture, but he manages. “What are you doing, love?”

Your lips part. There is an answer forming there, but you aren’t saying anything. Simon wants to coax it from, for you to speak your mind, to say whatever it is you’re struggling to communicate.

But he also can’t force. He can’t take what you do not freely give.

If words cannot be spoken, Simon can give you something else.

“Come here,” he says, turning you around. “Give me your helmet.”

You offer it to him and he takes it. Simon strides over to the bike and hangs a helmet on each of the handlebars. He gestures to you, one hand extended. You come to him immediately, and Simon draws you close, wrapping his arms around your waist.

These kisses are not slow. They are deep. Consuming. Simon’s dick is hardening in his pants with each one. His hands roam over your body, grabbing at whatever they can. You groan into his open mouth, and Simon knows exactly what he wants.

He pulls back and grasps your chin. “Can I fuck you?”

Your eyes widen. “Out here?”

“There’s no one around,” he says, stealing another kiss. “And I want you.”

You grin sheepishly, shying away from him slightly. “What did you have in mind?”

Simon has plenty of ideas, but there’s only one he really wants to try. “Do I have your permission?”

“Yes,” you breathe.

With his hands on your hips, Simon guides you over to the sport bike. Sliding inward, Simon goes for the front of your jeans. The button first. Then the zipper. Slipping his hands underneath the band, he shoves your jeans and underwear down to your thighs, revealing your ass to the cool air.

“Bend over the bike.”

“Over the bike?”

“Over the bike,” repeats Simon.

You place both hands on the seat. Glancing over your shoulder, Simon sees the hesitation.

“We can stop,” he says, because he can. This never has to go further unless you want it to.

“That’s not it,” you reply softly.

Simon walks up behind you, brushing some of your hair behind your ear. “Think we’ll get caught?”

You shake your head.

“I won’t let you fall.”

“I know. I trust you, Simon.”

Simon grabs your neck and pulls you in, claiming your mouth. Your lips part and Simon slips his tongue inside.

“Bend over that fucking bike, love. I need to be inside you.”

The heat in your cheeks stirs Simon’s groin to attention. You obediently bend over, presenting your gorgeous ass to him. With your jeans around your thighs, you cannot spread wide. It’ll be a tight fucking fit, but Simon doesn’t care.

What he’d like to do is lick your clit until you’re dripping, but this will have to do.

Simon is quick with the front of his pants. The urge to be inside you burns in his bones, and when his cock is free, Simon feels like he can suddenly breathe. He rubs the head against your pussy, and he’s greeted with your slickness.

“Fucking hell,” he murmurs. You’re ready for him, and he’s hardly touched you.

Simon finds what he’s after, and starts to sink in.

You gasp aloud, the sound of it cut off by a crashing wave. Simon grasps your hips, sinking in further until he’s seated entirely inside.

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath, composing himself.

The fit is tight, and you’re completely grasping him as if you don’t want him to retreat or move at all. Simon needs to get his shit together fast. He’s been inside of you for only a few seconds and he’s ready to blow.

You have one hand on the gas tank and the other on the footpeg. You’re too far forward to glance back at him. Simon would like to see your face, but this position is fucking sexy. You’re at his mercy, presented to him like an indulgent treat.

With his hands on your waist, Simon rolls his hips, slowly working his cock in and out of your pussy. It’s a slow drag, and Simon feels every single part of you. It’s heaven. Paradise.

Every stroke draws forth a moan from you. Even with the waves crashing against the cliff, Simon can hear each sound you make. Each one drifts up and curl around his head, penetrating his senses.

This is fucking perfect to him.

Your pussy clenches, and Simon’s hips stutter, wobbling the bike.

Fuck.

If Simon is too rough, he might send the two of you toppling over. He needs to be fucking careful. Sure, he wants to fuck you, but this is mostly about you, and making you feel good.

Digging deep, Simon drags up a morsal of control. Finding a better grip on you, he sets a steady, rolling pace.

Simon keeps rhythm until you groan and your pussy clenches hard around him. He’s not far behind, staying in to the hilt as he fills your pussy for the fourth time today.

Every exhalation brings steam, and Simon suddenly realizes how cold its become. Slowly, he slips from your body, cock softening as he stuffs himself back inside his pants.

He helps you unbend, returning you to an upright position. You turn around with a dazed but pleased look on your face. Simon eases your jeans over your ass, closing the zipper and securing the button for you as you fix your hair.

“Want to stick around for a bit?” asks Simon.

“Could we go for a ride instead?”

“Sure, love. Whatever you want.”

After the ride, you and Simon rarely leave the cottage. Simon wants you in every position and on every surface. He got exactly that and so much more. Simon forgets about everything and spends each moment with you present and happy.

Which makes the return that much harder.

It’s a slow tearing of flesh with nothing to staunch the pain. Simon drags his feet returning to London. You’re a dead brick the whole drive, snoozing softly in the passenger seat. Simon doesn’t disturb you. In fact, he drives slower, reaching out to you on occasion just to reassure himself that you’re real and close.

When Simon pulls into Amelia’s drive, he almost backs right out and takes you home with him. Simon sits in the driver seat and stares as your sleeping form.

Reality isn’t always nice. It isn’t always fun.

These last five days have been some of the best of Simon’s life. He doesn’t want to return to anything. He only wants you, and the rest of the world can just fuck off for a while.

He hates what he does next, but he does it.

Simon unloads the car, and carries your bag to the front door. He doesn’t have to knock. Amelia is there to greet him.

“She’s asleep in the car,” says Simon automatically.

Amelia shrugs. “Room is upstairs and to the left.”

Simon silently ascends. The door is open and the light is on. He knocks softly and pushes it open. Evie reclines on the bed with a book in hand. Bravo is on the very edge, facing the door. His head perks up at Simon’s entrance.

His tail smack smack smack’s against the comforter.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, dropping the bag just inside the door. “Come on, Bravo.”

At the car, Simon opens the passenger door. He stares at you a moment before gently shaking you awake. You twist toward him, rubbing at your eyes. When you notice it’s Simon, you smile, and it hurts him somewhere deep.

“We’re here,” he says, almost raspy.

“Already?” you yawn.

He clears his throat. “Afraid so.”

You slip out of the car and Bravo comes forward, pressing his nose into your head. Simon grabs your other hand and pulls you close. “Let me walk you to the door.”

“I need my bag.”

“Already took it upstairs.”

You squeeze his hand and go up on your toes to kiss his cheek. “Thank you.”

Simon steps back and opens the rear passenger door. “Inside, Bravo.”

The German Shepard obediently hops in. Simon shuts the door, still holding your hand, and walks you to the front door. He doesn’t want to let go, but it’s cold out, and you need rest.

“I had fun,” you say.

“Just fun?” teases Simon.

You shake your head. “I liked getting away for a bit.” You reach up and rest your hand against Simon’s cheek. “And being with you.”

Simon turns into the touch and presses his lips to your palm. “When can I see you again?”

Your face falls, and Simon’s heart drops into his stomach. “I don’t know. Can I call you tomorrow?”

“Of course, love.”

You do call him the next day, and Simon can hear the quiet anxiety in your voice. The two of you were gone for almost a week, and anything could have happened during that time. While Simon isn’t particularly happy that he cannot see you, he understands. He also has his own shit to take care of.

Because he rearranged his schedule to take you away for a few days, Simon rebooked appointments almost on top of each other to make it happen. That isn’t ideal either, but he did it for you, and that makes it worth it for him.

It’s an entire week without you, and the days of November are starting to creep towards the cold of December. He hasn’t even asked you about coming with him back to Johnny’s family farm for Christmas. It’ll be expected that he goes, and he’s already blocked off his schedule, but he needs to convince you to come.

After the last client leaves for the evening, Simon closes up shop. It’s routine at this point, and he’s upstairs pouring himself a whiskey in a matter of minutes. Bravo pads over to his bed, turning three times before digging at it and then flopping down with a huff.

“Hard day?” asks Simon and Bravo grumbles at him.

Simon snorts into his whiskey glass. He shoots it back and then reaches for the bottle.

A chime goes off in the kitchen. Simon freezes.

He knows that sound. It’s not his personal phone or one of the many appliances. It’s one that he never wants to hear. Ever.

Simon turns in his chair, staring into the dark kitchen. He waits, thinking that he might not have heard the sound after all.

The chime comes again and Simon shoots up out of his chair. Simon flips on the kitchen light and strides toward the phone. He always keeps it on. Always keeps it plugged in.

Simon had it during his time in the military, and Price told him to keep it in case they ever needed him. It’s encrypted. And its sole purpose is for secure communication.

It hasn’t gone off since his retirement.

Simon snatches up the phone, removing it from its charger. He’s not sure what he’ll find.

Taking a deep breath, Simon logs on, and a message stares back at him.

It’s not Price. Or Gaz. Or even Laswell.

It’s fucking Johnny.

It’s Walsh, Lt.

Of course it fucking is.

Expect me Friday.

[actually-safer-to-kiss]

reid gets the reader to open up about their mental health :)

Opened Wounds

Summary: Reader opens up to Spencer about her mental health after a triggering case.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: hurt/comfort

Content warnings: Mentions of PTSD and cults

Word count: 1.3k

A/N: I know in my guidelines I said I will not romanticize mental illness and I stand by that. Which is why this is not really as much of a romance-centered fic. Spencer and Reader are in a relationship, but this is more about being comfortable in opening up in that relationship.

Thank you for submitting 🩵

The hum of the jet was the only sound as the team settled into their seats. Exhaustion was the mutual feeling throughout the cabin, and you were no exception.

The only difference between your flight to the scene and going home is that you chose a seat in the corner instead of near J.J. like normal. No one paid mind to it, it seemed. Perhaps they all knew and saw you needed space. Maybe Hotch had some sort of debrief with the team, discussing your file before bringing you on.

You thought all of that at the moment, but it isn’t until you’re halfway home and flying over Louisville, Kentucky that you accidentally lock eyes with Spencer. He collects the pile of snacks as he wins yet another game of poker against Morgan and Prentiss. You saw him cheat, and he saw you pull your lips into a (hopefully) convincing half-smile. The jet’s humming is all you can hear as he shuffles the deck, and Morgan snatches it from him to shuffle instead.

He could still cheat the next round, but you couldn’t escape the feeling that flickered across you the moment you were in his line of sight; his knowing stare. He’s been trying to get you to talk since you landed in Nebraska. It wasn’t appropriate for you to share a room, so you could avoid him at night as well. But you share a bed with him when you’re both home, and this isn’t the first time you’ve acted this way because of a case. A very specific case.

You return to the window, watching the plains and silos as they disappear in the haze of gray clouds that come and go. They would remind you of home. If your thoughts weren’t equivalent to TV static, they’d probably be the last things you’d want to look at. All you do is stare.

Then, there’s a pressure on your shoulder. You jerk at the touch, clutching your dad’s necklace on instinct. Even after turning your head to see it’s Spencer, your fist lays flat on your chest as you try steadying your breaths. “Jesus Christ!” You say, hushed.

“Sorry, sorry!” He keeps his voice quiet as well, his big eyes somehow growing. “I just… wanted to see you. So.” He gives a little wave as he smiles. “Hi.”

The team has been aware of your relationship for two months now. Still, speaking so closely, and whispering no less, feels like there’s still a secret. You hate secrets. Especially since you can see Morgan peeking over the seats to spot potential gossip. It doesn’t help that he was the first one who started asking about you two, and you spent so much time together. It was an anxious sight before, but now you can’t help questioning if it’s because of your past, the newspaper headlines with your and your little brothers’ faces among the few survivors from that burned barn.

Spencer points to the seat in front of you. “Mind if I sit?”

It’s hard to say no, even though you want to. Pushing away and avoiding hard topics is something you’ve learned to be good at. It’s why you don’t talk to your brothers anymore. It was for the best… for a long time. Yet that face of his. You still glance over at the rest of the team as you wonder how much of a crowd you’re drawing in. “Spencer, I—”

“Don’t worry about them. They won’t bother you.”

So they must know.

Spencer waits for your nod (you give it) before he scooches in for a seat. He settles in with a sigh and lets the tip of his sneaker brush against your tights. When you look up at him, pieces of hair fall in front of his face. He brushes them back as he smiles softly, yet knowing more than they do. “What’s on your mind?”

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “You sound like my therapist.”

“Is that a good or a bad thing right now?”

Instead of an answer, you shrug, taking in breaths of clean air and keeping the looming anxiety away. You know Spencer, though (unfortunate at the moment), so you know that won’t cut it.

And he does too, which is why he reaches across to rest a palm on your knee. “I’m not your mother, okay? You can trust me.”

You push your mother further back in your head. “I’m just… having a bad day.”

“After another case involving a cult.”

“Yeah.”

“You know if you talk to Hotch, he’d let you sit—”

“I don’t want to sit these out,” you tell him. It’s the surest thing you’ve said all week. “It doesn’t change the number of people who need our help.”

“It doesn’t help your PTSD either, Y/N. It’s not healthy.”

Your face scrunches at the acronym, and Spencer sounds even more like your therapist. Because he’s right and you hate it. Throwing yourself into your work has led to burnout and breakdowns you hope the team never witnesses. You hope Spencer never has to see you like that. The tears blur your vision, and the man across from you becoming as indistinguishable as watered down ink. “I just hate that it still gets to me,” you say. “I thought I was stronger than this.”

Spencer’s hand squeezes your knee gently. “You are strong. But strength doesn’t mean being unable to feel. It’s okay to still feel those things like they were yesterday, especially after what you survived.”

You look away, staring out the window again as if the clouds could somehow absorb all of this for you. “It just… it all comes rushing back, and it’s impossible to escape it. No matter how hard I try, I’m right back in Nebraska. I can smell the smoke, feel the heat. I hear their voices and prayers. It’s like I’m trapped all over again.”

The confession hangs between you two. They slip out like a faucet because of one hand on your knee topped with genuine concern. Pathetic, you thought to yourself. It doesn’t help that the vulnerability leaves a lightness on your chest, like you’ve cut yourself open on an autopsy table for not just him, but for everyone to look.

No one looks around. They either don’t overhear you or pretend they don’t. There’s no in between. Spencer, however, shifts in his seat, leaning closer. “You’re not trapped, Y/N. Not anymore. You’re here, with me, with us. Hey, look at me.”

You look back up.

“We’re not going anywhere.”

You swallow hard, the tears now spilling over as you look at him. “What if I never get past this? What if I can’t do my job anymore?”

His brows slanted as he looks at you, and he leans across to brush a tear from your cheek with his thumb. “You’re not the first person in the BAU with such a past. Hotch knew that and he still hired you. We’ll get through it together, you and me first. And if you need to take a break, or sit out a case, the team will be there for you. It doesn’t make you weak.”

You nod, though the fear still lingers. The idea of security (of any kind) is hard to settle into when you haven’t had it in so long. You pick at your nails, but with one hand, Spencer encourages you to stop. And you let out a shaky sigh. “I’ll… talk to Hotch.”

“Good.”

“Just to touch base.”

“Right. Of course.”

You lean into his touch, lacing your fingers with his as you try to form a genuine smile. “Thank you,” you said.

Spencer stands slightly, in an ungraceful crouch to kiss your cheek.

The hum of the jet continues, the world outside still distant and gray. But in this moment, sitting with Spencer in the quiet corner of the plane, you still feel exposed, but less alone. And for now, that’s enough.

Thank you all for your patience and thanks for enduring my absence. I'm not going anywhere, I've just been active in other fandoms/cannot for the life of me find inspiration. My fic uploads will probably be quite infrequent, but I'll still upload when I can. Just fyi 😉

Also if you've sent in a request, I probably still have it and have written a bit for it. It's just not done because, again, my inspiration well is ✨very dry✨ I appreciate everyone for being patient with me and still enjoying my fics all the same 🩵

[perfectsunlight]

[35] DAD

warnings: paternal absence

FLASHBACK

ivory had always known her life wasn’t exactly normal. but it wasn’t until she was six years old, sitting in her classroom with a crayon clutched in her tiny fingers, that she realized just how different it was.

the classroom was warm, sunlight spilling through the large windows, casting golden patches onto the wooden desks. outside, she could hear the distant shouts of kids playing during recess, the rhythmic thud of a basketball bouncing against pavement. the air smelled like glue and paper, the familiar scent of a classroom deep in an arts-and-crafts project.

at the front of the room, ms. kang clapped her hands together, a warm smile on her face. “alright, class! since parents’ day is coming up, we’re going to make special thank-you cards for our parents or guardians! you can draw your family and write a nice message to show them how much you love and appreciate them.”

excited chatter filled the room instantly. ivory watched as the other kids reached for their supplies—picking out their favorite colors, chattering about what their parents liked.

“my dad likes fishing!” one boy announced proudly, holding up a blue crayon. “my mom loves cooking! she always makes yummy food.” a girl said beside him, already scribbling on the card stock.

jane picked up a pink crayon, twirling it between her fingers. she knew what to draw—her and her mom. her small hands moved carefully, outlining a simple figure with dark hair and big eyes—her mom, of course. then, next to her, a smaller version of herself, holding her mother’s hand.

she was focused, tongue poking slightly out of the corner of her mouth, when a voice beside her made her pause.

“where’s your dad?”

ivory blinked, glancing up at the boy sitting next to her. minho. he was peering at her drawing, his own half-finished card lying on the table. a scribbly drawing of a man and a woman stood on his page, a big heart between them.

she looked back at her drawing.

where was her dad?

she suddenly felt self-conscious, staring at the blank space next to her mother. the realization hit her like a quiet wave—everyone else was drawing two parents. two figures holding hands. two sets of arms wrapping around them.

but she only had one.

the pink crayon in her hand felt heavier now. “i don’t have one,” she mumbled, unsure of why the words felt strange on her tongue.

minho frowned. “huh? what do you mean? everybody has a dad.” jane’s tiny fingers tightened around the crayon defensively. “well, i don’t,” she said, a little more firmly this time.

the dark haired boy gave her a puzzled look, like she had just told him she didn’t have a belly button. or that she was an alien. or that she had four arms instead of two. 

“that’s weird,” he muttered before going back to his drawing.

ivory sat frozen. her heart thudded loudly in her chest, a strange, uncomfortable feeling creeping in. she had never really thought about it before. she had her mom. that had always been enough.

but now, for the first time, she felt like she was missing something.

jieun could tell something was wrong the moment ivory climbed into the car.

the little girl was unusually quiet, her small hands folded in her lap, eyes staring at nothing in particular.

“you’re quiet today, sweetheart,” jieun said gently, glancing at her through the rearview mirror. “did something happen at school?”

ivory hesitated, her grip tightening on the paper in her hands.

after a long moment, she finally asked, “grandma, why don’t i have a dad?”

the question was soft, hesitant, but it sliced through the air like a blade. jieun’s fingers tightened around the steering wheel. she had been expecting this question for years, but somehow, she still wasn’t prepared.

“what made you ask that, love?” she asked, keeping her voice steady.

the young girl looked down at the card in her hands, tracing the edges of the paper with her fingers. “we were making cards for parents’ day and minho said everybody has a dad.”

jieun inhaled sharply, glancing at the little girl’s reflection in the mirror. “oh, baby,” she murmured, her heart aching at the confusion on her granddaughter’s face. jane finally looked up and met her stare in the mirror’s reflection. 

“so do i have one?”

jieun took a slow breath before answering carefully.

“yes,” she said gently. “but he’s not here.”

ivory frowned. that wasn’t fair. if she had a dad, why wasn’t he around? why didn’t he wear ties or pick her up from school like her friends’ dads?  “where is he?” she couldn’t comprehend that perhaps her father was a man who actively made the decision to not be in her life. surely her dad must be more busy than her mom. or maybe he was some secret agent, or a spy? that would explain why he wasn’t around for her or jennie.

jieun’s grip on the steering wheel tightened until her knuckles turned white. she could feel ivory’s expectant gaze in the mirror, those big, searching eyes that reminded her so much of jennie when she was young—curious, determined, relentless.

how was she supposed to answer this? how could she explain something so heavy, so painful, to a child who still believed the world was fair?

there were so many things jieun could say. so many ways she could frame it. but in the end, she settled for the truth—at least, as much of it as her granddaughter needed to hear.

“that’s something for your mom to tell you,” she said, her voice soft. “but what i can tell you is this—your mother loves you more than anything in the world. more than anything.”

once they got home, ivory was quieter than usual. she didn’t run inside like she normally would, kicking off her shoes and shouting about her day. instead, she trailed behind jieun, clutching the card she had made in school, her tiny fingers wrinkling the edges.

jieun watched her carefully, noting the way her little shoulders were tense, the way her brows furrowed in deep thought. it broke her heart, but there was nothing she could do—this was something jennie had to handle.

“ivory, sweetheart,” jieun called gently as she set her purse down on the kitchen counter. “why don’t you go wash up before dinner?”

ivory hesitated but eventually nodded, dragging her feet as she shuffled toward the bathroom.

jieun exhaled, her gaze drifting toward the clock. jennie would be home very soon. she should give her a warning—prepare her for the conversation she was about to have.

and sure enough, just as jieun was finishing up setting the table, the front door clicked open. the idol stepped inside, looking exhausted from her long day, her coat hanging off one shoulder, her hair tied back in a loose ponytail. she barely had time to kick off her heels before jieun greeted her with a knowing look.

jennie knew something was up. jane always came running the moment that door opened. she could feel the tension in the air, and she braced herself for whatever was coming next. her heart started to pound, sensing something she couldn’t quite place. she’d been so focused on her work, her schedule, and the whirlwind of the past few weeks, but in that moment, everything felt off. her maternal instincts were on overdrive, her fine tuned senses picking up on the usual lightness of home being significantly heavier. jennie dropped her bag by the door, peeling off her coat and hanging it up with mechanical precision, her thoughts already racing ahead to what might be waiting for her.

jieun’s gaze lingered on her, and for a split second, jennie could feel the weight of something unspoken. it was in the way her mother was holding herself, the subtle way her fingers fidgeted with the edge of a napkin, a tiny indication that something was wrong.

“hey, where is she?” jennie asked, her voice casual but carrying a note of concern. she usually didn’t go a minute without seeing her daughter, especially when she was home. the house felt unusually quiet without her baby girl’s bright energy.

jieun sighed, her shoulders relaxing a bit as she finally spoke. she knew jennie could feel something was off. after all, jieun was a mother herself. she knew that maternal intuition was a lifeline. “she’s in her room.” she replied gently. jennie nodded, instinctively heading toward the hallway. but before she could take a step, jieun called out softly, “but there’s something you need to know.”

the words hung in the air like a delicate thread, fragile and heavy. the mentioned woman turned back to look at her, confusion on her knitted brows. “what’s wrong? is everything okay?” 

“she asked about her father.”

jennie froze. and suddenly she was transported back in time to when she was her daughter’s age, asking about the absence of her own father. the weight of the words fell over jennie like a heavy blanket, the breath caught in her chest. she couldn’t speak for a moment, her mind frozen, replaying the question she herself had asked so many years ago. she had been just a girl, no older than ivory, when she asked her mother the same thing. 

where’s my dad?

jennie had never truly gotten an answer, just vague explanations that never quite felt like the truth. her father had left when she was still young, his absence an unwelcome shadow over her childhood. even now, that innocent question lingered like a scar, untouched and unhealed.

“jennie?” the voice of her own mother in front of her broke through her thoughts. “what’s wrong? is everything okay?”

the idol swallowed hard, but her throat felt tight, as if the words wouldn’t come. it took a long moment before she found her voice again, weak but steady. jennie’s gaze drifted toward the floor, her hands wringing nervously in front of her.

“she deserves answers. and i don’t know how to give them to her.”

the room felt smaller all of a sudden, like the walls were closing in. she could feel the weight of it all—the guilt, the fear, the lingering shame of never having provided ivory with the answers she so desperately wanted.

jennie had promised herself, when she was pregnant, that she would never put her daughter through the same pain she had experienced growing up without a father. yet, here they were. her baby girl, just as confused as she had once been, asked the question she had always dreaded: why don’t i have a dad?

jennie had never told ivory the truth about her father—who he was, why he wasn’t around, or how he had made the choice to leave. in the beginning, it was easier to tell herself that jane didn’t need to know, that she would be enough. but as her daughter grew older, the cracks in that facade began to show. 

now, with that question hanging in the air between them, jennie didn’t know how to fix it.

she felt the tears welling up in her eyes, but she blinked them away, trying to hold it together. she couldn’t break down now. not when ivory needed her the most.

the other woman in the room, watching her carefully, took a step closer. “it’s not your fault, jennie,” she said softly, almost as if reading her mind. “you can’t control everything, especially not him.”

“i know. but it doesn’t make it any easier.” she exhaled shakily, her thoughts spiraling. “she doesn’t deserve to feel abandoned. i promised myself she wouldn’t grow up like i did—feeling like something was missing. but i’ve failed her.”

“no, you haven’t.” the woman’s voice was firm, insistent. “you’ve done everything you can to protect her, to give her the life you didn’t have. you’re doing the best you can, my dear. don’t let that guilt take away from everything you’ve given her already.”

jennie looked up, meeting the woman’s eyes, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she allowed herself to take a breath. it wasn’t all her fault. she couldn’t change the past, but she could shape the future for ivory. she could still be the mother ivory needed.

but the truth about her father... that was something jennie wasn’t sure she was ready to face. let alone tell her daughter.

the silence hung heavily in the room, and jennie couldn’t escape the crushing weight of the question that lingered in her life for a second time now.

she could feel the distance between her and ivory growing, a gap that no amount of love could fill. how was she supposed to bridge that gap when the one thing her daughter needed most—answers—was the one thing jennie could not give?

her body moved automatically to her daughter’s bedroom. her feet carried her down the familiar hallway, each step heavier than the last. she passed by the framed pictures on the walls—moments frozen in time, snapshots of happier times. her hand rested briefly on the doorframe of ivory’s room before she slowly pushed the door open.

ivory’s room was as it had always been—warm toned, cozy, with little pieces of her personality scattered throughout. the stuffed animals, the beanbag in the corner, the little gifts jennie had gotten her from her travels overseas. but tonight, it all seemed so distant, so out of place. jennie’s gaze settled on the bed, the unmade sheets, and the quiet stillness that filled the room. it was as though the walls were waiting for something that wasn’t coming.

she stepped inside, closing the door softly behind her, and took a deep breath. the scent of her daughter’s perfume still lingered in the air—familiar, comforting, yet so painfully absent. she sat on the edge of the bed, her fingers lightly brushing against the soft fabric of the blanket. the weight of the silence in this room was deafening. it was like her life had been paused, suspended in time, and the only thing she could think about was the absence of the one person who had meant everything to her.

jennie’s mind flashed back to the past, to those late nights when she would sneak into ivory’s room just to watch her sleep, to feel the warmth of her daughter’s presence. she’d done everything in her power to protect ivory, to give her a life filled with love and opportunity. but now, it felt like everything was unraveling at once. and the worst part? 

she didn’t know how to fix it.

ivory’s bathroom was joined to her bedroom, and she saw the back of her daughter’s head as she finished washing her hands. turning around, jane’s eyes lit up slightly at the sight of her mother on her bed. 

jennie’s heart ached as she watched her daughter move about the room, the quiet swish of jane’s hands as she dried them on the towel, the soft thud of her footsteps as she stepped toward the bed. it was the kind of simple moment that felt monumental—like a scene frozen in time, the unspoken distance between them widening with every second that passed. she longed for the carefree days, when her daughter would run to her after a long day, when laughter filled the house, when nothing seemed impossible to mend.

but those days felt so far away now, slipping through her fingers like sand.

ivory stopped in front of the bed, her eyes still lighting up slightly, but it was a hesitant glow—a flicker of something that was there and then gone, as if even her daughter could sense the weight of the silence hanging between them.

"did grandma tell you?" ivory began, her voice unsure, quiet. as if she was trying to pull something from jennie, some kind of confirmation she was desperately searching for. her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve, a small, nervous habit she’d developed over the years.

jennie could feel the hesitation in the air. she could see the faint lines of worry across her child’s face, the tension in her shoulders. the question was hanging there, but it wasn’t just about what grandma had said—it was about something deeper. 

something that neither of them wanted to address, but had to.

jennie cleared her throat, trying to steady herself, her fingers curling tighter into the fabric of the sheets beneath her. “yes.” her voice was soft, coaxing, though it carried the underlying tremor of her own fears.

silently, jane pointed to the card face down on her nightstand, the one she had made at school. curious, her mother picked it up and flipped it over.

jennie felt the cool edge of the card as she picked it up, her heart heavy in her chest. the card was face down, like her daughter didn’t want to give anything away just yet. the idol’s hands were gentle as she flipped it over, her eyes scanning the simple design.

there were no elaborate drawings, no over-the-top doodles that usually came with children’s creations. instead, there was a single  message on the front, written carefully in six year old ivory’s handwriting.

for mom.

a lump formed in jennie’s throat as she traced the words with her fingers. the card wasn’t a father’s day card, and it wasn’t a “thank you” card. it was simply for her—just for jennie. 

not jennie kim, the idol. just jennie kim, the mother.

she could feel the weight of the unspoken words in the simplicity of the gesture. ivory hadn’t needed to say anything for jennie to understand. she had already said everything through this small act of defiance.

her eyes blurred slightly, emotion threatening to spill over. jane had already been through so much in her life, things a child shouldn’t have to carry. the absence of a father, the pressure of being constantly in the shadows of her mother’s career, and yet, here ivory was, still giving everything of herself. not asking for anything but her presence, her love.

the woman swallowed hard, taking a moment to compose herself. the tightness in her chest was unbearable, but it wasn’t just sadness—it was pride. pride in the person her child was becoming, even when things around them weren’t ideal. she reached down to slide her hand under the card, feeling the weight of it as though it were the most precious thing in the world.

ivory watched her mother’s expression closely, her own face unreadable. the silence between them was thick, heavy, but there was something unspoken in it that made everything clearer. the words they couldn’t bring themselves to say floated between them, settling in the air like the softest promise.

“come here, valentine.” jennie whispered as she held her arms open.

ivory hesitated for only a moment before she climbed into her mother’s embrace. her small body nestled against jennie’s chest, the familiar scent of her mother's perfume grounding her in a way nothing else could. the card, the unspoken words, the weight of the world they both carried—it all seemed to melt away in the quiet of this simple moment.

jennie wrapped her arms around her young child tightly, pulling her close as though she could protect her from everything—the pain, the loneliness, the uncertainty that loomed so heavily over both of them. she rested her cheek against ivory’s downy hair, feeling the soft warmth and for a moment, she didn’t need to say anything.

“mom,” ivory’s voice was barely a whisper, the words soft but loaded with so much weight, so much vulnerability, that they seemed to linger in the air, suspended between them. jennie froze for a moment, the sound of her daughter’s voice cutting through the quiet of the room like a tender ache. she slowly turned her head, her breath catching in her chest. “yeah, baby?” her voice was thick with emotion, thick enough that it was hard to speak, hard to hold back the flood of feelings rising up in her throat. she reached down, her hand trembling slightly, and began to stroke ivory’s back in slow, soothing motions, as if her touch could somehow convey everything her heart felt.

“i love you.” the words were soft but simple, filled with a rawness that made jennie’s heart lurch. ivory’s words weren’t just a declaration; they were a plea, a balm, a promise all wrapped into one. they held the weight of everything that had been left unsaid, every silent worry and longing that had built up over the years.

jennie’s chest tightened, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. she felt the gravity of those words deep in her bones, and a rush of warmth flooded through her, radiating out from her daughter’s words. she wasn’t sure when it happened, when it became clear, but in that moment, all the world seemed to pause, and all that mattered was the love that passed between them, unspoken yet undeniable.

“i love you too,” jennie whispered, her voice shaky as she pressed her lips to the crown of her child’s head, as though sealing that promise with a kiss. her hand still rested gently on her daughter’s back, fingers splayed across the softness of her shirt, holding her as close as she possibly could. there was nothing else she needed to say, no more explanations or apologies.

ivory didn’t need anything else. she didn’t need a dad—she had her mom. and that was enough.

jennie felt her heart swell with emotion, the tightness in her chest both painful and comforting. she had been a single mother for so long, carrying the weight of both roles, trying to be enough for her child despite the challenges that came with it. 

and now, in this simple moment, she realized that she had succeeded.

for the first time in a long time, jennie felt at peace with the life they had built together, the one that had been their own, separate from the chaos of the world around them. she could face whatever came next, because in the end, she had her daughter.

and that was more than enough.

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CLOSED.

[entities-of-posts]

from the earliest time I can remember up until the age of about 9 or 10, I had a recurring nightmare. it would happen every night without fail if my memory serves me.

I used to fall asleep covered by a blanket, head to toe, tucked in and wrapped around me like a mummy. I did this because I didn't know what else to do about the nightmares.

They always started the same way: I would wake up in the dream, still under my blanket. I was always scared, and maybe just lucid enough to know what was happening. After a varying amount of time, I would work up the courage to peek out from under the blanket, just the tiniest gap underneath one side. There was always something looking in at me. it would lean in close and peer with what I can only assume was one of its eyes directly at me. I would quickly close the gap, then I would try peeking out a different side.

left, right, over my head, it didn't matter. it was already there by the time I looked. This would go on as long as I could take it. Eventually, I would get sick of it, and still frightened, would pull the blanket down from over my head. I learned with the repeated experience what to expect, but it didn't make it much more tolerable.

the thing would be next to my bed. it was always bigger than me, though not extremely tall it still dwarfed me at that age. I would stare at it, terrified, and it wouldn't take long for me to be lifted from my bed by what I can only assume was it's will. It would bring me to its "mouth" and "eat" me whole. it's insides looked the same as it's outside, but I could feel the pressure of its mouth constricting me, and it would become hard to breathe.

the nightmare almost always ended right after it swallowed me. Most times I would wake up right away, usually during the dead of night. a couple of occasions immediately pushed me into a new dream, but not often.

The nightmares stopped after one extremely memorable instance where I had the nightmare on repeat in one night without waking up once, each time It would end I would "wake up" right back under the blanket, and it went on for at least 10 iterations before something changed. it turned into an unrelated dream for a brief moment before I woke up in an unfamiliar room in a dream scenario and had to deal with it hiding throughout the room instead of peering under a blanket. That strange encounter was the last time I saw it, after it ate me in that dream I woke up and have never had the nightmare since.

I don't sleep with the blanket covering my face anymore.

Seeing as I never properly described the thing, I made my best approximation of what I remember it looking like. It isn't conventionally frightening, I know this objectively, yet even as I recreated it my heart began to pound and hands shake. I had to look away a few times to steady myself before I could continue drawing it. I guess there's something left of that experience that still scares me, even if it really shouldn't.

I’d put it with the Dark as many childhood fears are. This is a thing that comes at night when you are vulnerable, when your eyes are closed and your senses dulled, when the darkness makes the familiar space of your room alien and unsafe. You try to hide from it in vain; the blanket never did anything.

[numberonetacostan]

(What I have for) Feral Taco :3

Hello my friends!!!^^ Here is the long post to go along with the drawing of feral taco I made the other day because people showed interest!!! :D It made me so very happy. I apologize if this au isn’t as neatly put together as some others I’ve posted, I straight up did not expect to be typing this out. I thought this would be an au that stayed in Loomy’s daydreams but then people asked so here we are!!! :) Please enjoy!!!!

So Taco’s mental health is absolutely awful after Mic leaves her. Just terrible. So bad. And instead of teleporting away with Mepad’s comatose body after Mic quits the game, she just… gives up. Leaves him there, and walks back to her home in the woods, which I like to think of as being on the other side of the island. Judging from the map we see Mepad display in episode 14, the forest stretches out nearly to the other end of the island, yeah? I tend to think Taco only goes to the edge and area closer to the hotel to meddle in the competition and talk to Mic. As for her actual living space, it’s much easier to stay hidden deep in the forest on the side of the island that everyone else doesn’t live on. So that’s where Taco is. Alone. For quite some time. Season 3 happens, season 2 ends (Without the disaster that the finale was, solely because it doesn’t work well with the timeline of this au. So, uh, Cobs tripped and fell off of MeCloud and caught on fire and died. Suitcase decimated Knife in uh. Jump rope contest. Or something. Good with everyone? Good.), and the show has been on hiatus for a good few months, as a nice break for the cast before season 4 starts. Other than Taco, who has just been alone and getting worse for quite some time now. 

SO! The bulk of this would start around the time that said hiatus will be ending, all the contestants are at the hotel, including those who normally live on Paradise Island, because Mephone is getting ready to announce the next season, including who’s going to be participating! (They still don’t know he made them. This is about TACO. We’re not doing finale stuff here.) Most importantly, out of all of said contestants, are Bot and Goo. This is a Loomy AU you thought there’d be no propaganda in here? No. Taco will form relationships with whoever I please. So, Bot and Goo being Bot and Goo, go and play in the woods!! They’re exploring!! Having fun!! Playing tag, hide and seek, and enjoying nature!!! They stay relatively close to the hotel, for safety purposes, but end up going just a tad too deep into the woods as it’s getting dark. And it’s not called the Perilous Woods for no reason, hm? There’s some real Perilous stuff in there!! It could be a bear, a big snake, a wolf, a dragon, whatever you please since we lack a real world would-be location of Inanimate Island and thus we don’t really know what sort of wildlife would be there. I mean, I have a theory or two, but that’s not the point. Anyways, Bot grabs Goo and bolts. Neither of them are particularly edible, but they can’t be recovered by MeLife and would rather neither of them get maimed, yeah?

They get away from the danger, yay! But now they’re quite lost. Not yay. And now it’s become evening, so it’s dark. Bot does glow in the dark, at least their plush does, but we’ve seen how dark that forest can be during the day in episode 9. They’re nowhere near bright enough to see more than a foot or so ahead of them. And with how dense it is, it wouldn’t be easy for them to extend their legs and look back towards where the hotel is. So, to reiterate, they’re very lost in the thick, dark forest. Not good. Spooky noises all around, two very scared little guys. Especially when they hear rustling in the bushes, coming closer. And closer. And closer. And out from the darkness, they see a single eye staring at them, and scream!!! Until a flashlight is clicked on, and a very confused and unimpressed Taco is looking at them. She’s significantly more crack than she was the last time anyone (Mic) saw her, with one of her eyes whited-out and unseeing, but it’s definitely her!! And she’s holding some fishies skewered on a stick!!! Remember the fishies they’ll come back. 

Now, I don’t think Goo would really know much about Taco, if he knows about her at all, but Bot would definitely have heard about her, at least by virtue of having Fan as a Dad. But! They are very lost, and Taco is kind of their only option here!! So Bot asks her for help!! They’re lost, and need to get back to the hotel. Taco doesn’t really respond, but just sort of continues on where she was walking. Bot tries to get her attention again, but she doesn’t say anything. Once she reaches the bottom of a large shrub though, she holds the bushes open behind her, indicating that they should follow. So it seems like she’s gonna help them get back!! Bot and Goo both try to talk to her while they’re walking, but she doesn’t say anything back. Just keeps looking ahead, occasionally stopping to listen out for any potential predators. After a bit of walking, though, it turns out that she hasn’t led them back to the hotel. She pushes the top off of a stump, and points down, indicating for the two of them to go inside. Obviously, when a disheveled homeless woman you only know through tales that don’t paint her in a good light wants you to go down into a mysterious hole, you would not be too keen on doing so. 

So, Goo is spooked, and Bot’s not liking it either, so they insist Taco lead them back to the hotel. Taco shakes her head, and points down into the stump again. They insist again, Taco points again. They get nowhere, until Bot gets fed up, and turns around to try and search for the hotel on their own again, to which Taco stops them, moving to block Bot's way. Bot isn't happy, because they would like to get back to the dang hotel, but Taco!!! Starts communicating!! She bends down a bit and writes out "D-A-N-G-E-R-O-U-S" in the soil. Taco hasn’t spoken at all since Mic left. Why bother? She doesn’t have anyone to talk to, and she’s too upset to be talking to herself. So, she just writes in the dirt to communicate that the hotel is too far, and there’s too high a risk they won’t make it with all the perilousness in the Perilous Forest. If Taco, who’s lived there for years were to go, it would be one thing, but with Bot and Goo? Who are in the forest for the first time? No good. She’ll take them back once the sun’s come up, but for now it’s safer for them all if they take shelter for the night. Not in so many words of course, but she gets the message across.

Bot isn’t connected to MeLife, and Goo would quite frankly be happy to not be in the scary dark forest, so they concede and go down into Taco’s hidey hole house with her. It’s… well it sucks. It’s just a big hole. There’s a pile of leaves and moss. Uh. There’s a couple lemons. That’s uh. That’s it. Goo is trying to be a nice little fella, as he is, but he can’t really think of anything particularly nice to say, so he just ends up saying “This is a …place you got here!!” Taco is not amused. She sits down on the dirt floor and gestures to the moss/leaves pile. It’s relatively untouched, since although it was where she used to sleep, she hasn’t slept much for a while now, yeah? As Bot and Goo sit down (or whatever Goo does… just kind of droops a bit I suppose) Taco starts preparing the fish to eat!! With… her bare hands. Or rather, claws. She probably did have tools at one point, but after everything she gave up on maintaining them, and they became rather useless. So, she just does it by hand, wiping the blood and gore off on the dirt walls/floor or even her own lettuce. Quite a disturbing sight. Bot gives a polite but strained “no thank you.” Goo nearly cries. And this was not Taco’s intention!! We already know how bad she is with other people and their feelings, and she’s been in a depression for months!! This has just become the norm for her, she is not trying to scare them!! And doesn’t feel good when Goo is upset!! But of course, this is Taco being faced with emotions, so she fumbles around a bit, taking back the fish and trying to give Goo a lemon with the hand that isn’t soaked in fish blood!! It’s sour, but she does not have any other food stored up. She didn’t leave her little hidey hole for quite some time after her break up, so any storage she had is all used up. Besides, I think Goo would enjoy sour things well enough. Bot is a robot so I’m assuming they technically don’t need to eat and would just chill and let Goo enjoy his lemon. 

So Bot and Goo snuggle up and go to sleep, Taco sits in the dark for a few hours because she doesn’t trust them in her den unsupervised and also has barely slept for months <3. But once light starts seeping in from above, she wakes the two of them up to start the trek back to the hotel. Which, they realize as they start walking, is a pretty long trek. So, to fill the time, Goo tells a story!! For hours. Bot does their best to pay good attention!! Taco wasn’t paying attention when he started talking, much less midway through hour 3. And, remember earlier when I mentioned that you could imagine any sort of creature to be the thing chasing Bot and Goo? Well, not this time. I love bears, they’re cuddly and fluffy and don’t actually attack humans that much. Because they prefer fish and fruits and vegetables. Now, consider who of our three characters here would be absolutely scrumptious for a bear to eat. Because she’s full of vegetables. So, a bear comes and tries to eat Taco, Bot and Goo are quite rightfully very frightened, and Taco pulls out her space shooter, shoots it like a sick horse, and keeps walking. The founding members of the cheer factory are surprised, and have to scramble to catch up with her after a moment, because what the actual fuck was that. Well. I don’t think Goo knows the word fuck but still. They ask fair questions, like about how often she gets attacked by bears and why she has a gun, but Taco isn’t talking again and just keeps walking. Goo doesn’t go back to his story, so they just end up walking in silence, until they reach the edge of the forest!! There’s the hotel!! Hooray!! Taco points to the hotel, and immediately turns around to leave. Goo and Bot do thank her for helping them get back though, even if she doesn’t say anything back. 

They are immediately swamped upon entering the hotel. Fan is sobbing while holding Bot, and Test Tube is joining the hug even if she isn’t crying out the entire Atlantic Ocean. Goo is very much checked up on and doted upon too, even if none of the other contestants are his parents, they all probably have a mutual agreement to keep an eye on such a little and whimsical fella, yeah? But anyways, uh, the others had been looking for them for more or less the entire night and very much want to know where they’d disappeared to, of course!! So they explain getting lost and running into Taco which makes the air turn rather awkward, since she’s such a taboo topic in the hotel. When asked how she was, Bot and Goo mostly just look at each other like (⚆₋₍⚆). That would be even more concerning. Goo eventually just says a little “mm, well… if you don’t have anything nice to say you shouldn’t say anything…” Because. All they have to report is that she looked terrible, barely spoke, had blood on her half the time, and killed a bear that tried to eat her without flinching. And that’s. Very concerning. 

I honestly don’t have as much to say from here, since as I said I never expected to actually be sharing this concept, so it’s still really more of a concept rather than an au, but I’d say a small group goes to check on her here, and with Pickle’s permission (remember, only Knife and Soap know Mic had worked with her), offer her a room in the hotel. I mean, they still don’t like her, but Bot and Goo’s description of her ripping into fish with her bare hands for sustenance and having a nearly-falling-apart shell, they feel it pretty inhumane to not try to help her, yeah? And Taco is not having it. She opens up her little stump-roof-thing when Bot knocks and they and Goo call for her, but immediately slams it shut upon seeing they’ve brought more people, and refuses to come out, even when offered the hotel room. Taco is in the pinnacle of her self-hating era here, like she is doing so fucking bad. Remember when Brian said she’d be way worse off without Mepad? Well, here she is without Mepad, very much worse off. She believes herself incapable of changing!!! She would think going into the hotel would be the worst idea ever. She’d think she’d probably kill someone or steal something. She’d think OJ is an idiot for trying to let a kleptomaniac with a history of violence into his and the others’ place of living. 

And it would take quite a lot for her to be convinced, not even to go to the hotel just for a visit or an actual meal, but just to leave her den when she isn’t 100% sure no one else is around. Maybe it would be Mic. Maybe it would be Mepad. Even Balloon or Suitcase. It could be a combination of all of their respective efforts, that maybe things could turn out alright for Taco. Who knows. Not me because I have genuinely told you guys all I have for this concept at the moment. I’ll probably have more eventually but I would feel bad for making you all wait and also that eventually could be days or months so might as well put out what I have lol. 

Hope you all enjoyed!!! <3 sorry if this one sucked byeeeeeeeeeeeeee

[cottonlemonade]

heyy! SO glad to see you're having another event!! The last piece with kags was so cute!!

For this event- i'd really like to order a large americano for here with iwaizumi!

So excited to see what you come up with!

Working From Home

word count: 656 || avg. reading time: 3 mins.

pairing: post-time skip husband!Iwaizumi x chubby!Reader

genre: fluffy smut

warnings: spoilers, mdni, nsfw (ironically)

Iwaizumi sighed and stretched his neck. While he enjoyed a little time away from the very energetic roster of the Japanese national team, he was proven time and time again that he was not cut out for office work. The only upside to those days working from home, when he felt chained to the computer, was when your home office days overlapped and he could enjoy the comfort of knowing you shared the same space. Since you worked remotely often, he had made sure to look for an apartment with an extra room with plenty of natural light that could be turned into an actual office. He made a little game out of knocking at your door and announcing himself like a secretary would, whenever he brought you something to eat.

Today however, it seemed like you had finished early and he could hear the quiet bustling of chores as he focused on drawing up a plan for a new training regimen he wanted to try out next week. He sat on the couch, laptop on a tray over his knees, reading over the timeline when a small plate came into view.

“Here, hon. To tie you over until dinner time.”

Iwaizumi looked up at the plate in your hands but was met with the sight of a completely different kind of snack.

A washed out tank top clung to your chubby body - something you often wore while you two did housework. It was an old, ratty thing that was a bit too tight here, too wide there, and had a frayed hem from having washed it too many times. But as if he cared when all of that was paired with his wife clearly not wearing a bra.

“Is it my birthday?”, he asked, very obviously staring at your breasts.

You looked down on yourself, a little puzzled at first, then grinned.

“This is your fantasy?”, you laughed.

“It for sure is the start of one.”

You put the plate on the coffee table and straightened again, highly amused that your husband was not even attempting to hide his stares.

“I thought I’d get a jump on things and do some laundry.”

Iwaizumi didn’t miss a beat. “Can I be laundry?”

You giggled when he put the laptop next to the plate of apple slice you had cut for him and pulled you into his lap - you allowed yourself a bit of shifting so you could comfortably straddle him, your arms around his neck, fingers playing with his hair.

Not wasting any time with pretense he brought both hands up to gently grab your breasts, squeezing them when you leaned in for a kiss. You felt like you were back in high school and ignoring homework to fool around.

You chuckled against his lips at his now rhythmic squeezing. “What are you doing?”

“Just relaxing my hands, darling.”, he met your eyes with a smirk, “You know how important it is to loosen your hands every once in a while when working at the computer for too long.”

You nodded along, putting on a serious expression. “Is that so?”

“Hm hm. Trust me, I’m a professional.” He began kissing your neck, giving your now hardened nipples a few brushes with his fingertips.

You let out a moan when his lips went over your shoulder down to your breasts, exposed from him pulling a little at the neckline of your top.

“I remember you said something about regular exercise while in home office as well.”

“You’re such a good listener, babe.”

He lifted you off his lap to lay down the couch, swiftly pulling your shirt over your head, flinging it somewhere behind him and taking your nipple into his mouth.

Large, calloused hands gripped your fleshy hips and he groaned when your plush thigh rubbed against the hard outline in his sweats.

“What about work?”, you teased

“They can live without me for an hour.”

a/n: thank you for your sweet words! Please enjoy ^^ 🌟

[roseytoesy]

Hi there. I’m a little shy since I’m on Anon right now and I want to say I love your ideas and whenever I come across your blog.

Anyway, I just finished writing something for Doey with vore themes kinda on AO3 and I do want to write more in the future. The fact that someone else likes Doey is really validating!

Do you have any more vore headcannons on Doey by any chance? Bonus from each boy’s perspective/approach?

Aw! Thank you for reaching out and I'd love to read what you've written if you want. Just send a DM mine should be open.

Of course I'm happy to keep rambling and I'm glad I'm not the only one thinking of him this way.

anyways! I do of course have more headcannons and even a little drawing just under the cut!

Doey likes to steal away the player for one on one time often

Its usually jacky and Kevin that demand the most attention when the player is inside

Despite Kevin pretending to hate the player he appreciates the coddling that he gets

Jacky loves to play with the player and they happily play back. making sure to tell the boys when things are getting to be too much.

Kevin loves rough housing, Jacky loves tickle fights and tossing their head around like a ball, and Mathew enjoys roleplay and making up stories or acting things out.

Its like a weird therapy after a while when the player is tired and encourages the boys to communicate and open up.

Sometimes if another toy finds Doey like this he's very obviously distracted and always keeps a protective hand on his belly.

Has eaten many of the other toys on scouting missions to bring them back safely to safe haven, or to protect them if they got hurt.

even when he's hit by a freezing trap his insides are a room temperature. of curse you can see the dough cracking on him due to the freezing.

Mathew and Jacky really love to mess with their doughy body. shifting into all kinds of stuff as they play. Kevin has been restricted to slightly smaller than normal due to his intense playing breaking something if he's not careful.

When one of the boys are craving (heh) some cuddle time they each approach a bit differently

Jacky usually bounds up and kinda lets himself fall onto the player. making sure they aren't hurt of course, but places his head into their hands and kinda lets himself "melt" into that touch. or on their shoulder etc. needy child needs attention dang it

Will follow the player like a lost puppy. and once they are alone will try and pull them into a hug. where they keep sinking into his soft belly until they are engulphed and then moved around, where Jacky happily embraces them.

Mathew does his best to go without it but you can tell when he stares for longer periods at the player or absentmindedly starts to hang around them more and more often. maybe even pulling them into hugs more often or having them sit in his lap during reading time.

Usually its the player that offers inside time for him, but they also make sure to give him some attention when the others have dragged them in for one on one time.

Mathew needs assurance that he's doing good, that despite his shortcomings in the past, he's doing his best now, and that's more than anyone can ask for in this insane time.

He makes sure to return the kindness with shoulder massages and ensuring you get a comfortable space to rest. and he can and has carried the player, who desperately needed rest, inside while he checks in around safe haven.

And of course Kevin. whos obviously more aggressive when he wants more attention, Doey becomes more easily agitated and often gives the cold shoulder.

He isn't very subtle and opens his mouth around the player more and has to wipe drool away.

If Kevin is desperate enough or he's alone with the player in a room, he will just grab them and morph around them to trap them inside. usually spitting out the grab pack for added effect.

He acts like he doesn't want the player there but often butts into their space and rests his head on their lap, he claims its more comfortable. than just hanging from the wall with the others.

He likes head pats and being told he's not a monster for his anger, he just needs to find a healthy way to calm down and control his strength.

This is going on long enough. but hope you like it! i sure had fun writing for it!

Love ya Doey anon!