#but it still felt shallow if you get me

[princekirijo]

I saw the Barbie movie today and tbh I have mixed feelings about it. It was really funny in parts I won't lie and I liked the humor but there was something so... I don't know. I think the message was nice enough but the film felt shallow?? Idk

[longagoitwastuesday]

Kusakabe, dear, you're too beautiful to be saying that kind of stuff

[c0ffeejelly1]

Reacting to you wearing pheromone perfume

Multiple characters headcannon

Authors note: Dw they’re all horny for you, umm if it looks like I got lazy it’s bc I did. (POST-TIMESKIP!!)

Warnings: NSFW Content, Femdom(ish), vaginal sex, riding and uhhh find out the rest urself.

The plan was set.

You were just going to do your usual grocery run, but hold off putting the new found perfume on until you were at the door step.

That way, when you walked in, the scent would hit him like a wave, making it clear even for him to notice something different about you.

It was perfect! And soon the plan was to come into play as you sprayed yourself head to toe in its mist.

You tucked the bottle away deep in your grocery bag, then unlocked the door, the keys jingling softly as you did.

“Hey baby, I’m back.”

You say, shutting the door behind you and setting the groceries on the kitchen counter. “So what’ve you been up to?”

You shot him a quick glance from the couch, an innocent smile on your face.

The type to invade your personal space

What the... what the hell did you do? Something feels off here. He can sense it—no, he can practically smell it.

You’ve pulled a fast one, and he’s gonna find out what exactly it is..

“Me? Oh I’ve been up to absolutely nothing..like nothing at all.” he says, strolling over to you, a knowing smirk on his face.

“But the real question is though..what exactly have you been up to, huh?..”

You hadn’t realised just how close he had really gotten to you, until you took your eyes away from the ingredient in your hand to look at him, a palm rested onto the kitchen counter as he leaned in closer to you.

You didn’t waver though. You knew this was only an effect of the perfume working it’s magic, he was probably just trying to get a better whiff of you.

Everything was going according to plan..

“Well, I was just picking up some things for the house and dinner tonight. Thought I’d whip up your favorite, you know?”

You suddenly feel a grip on your shoulder as he turns you to face him. He takes this newfound opportunity as a chance to bury his nose into your neck.

“Jesus..” what hell did you actually do? Why’s he feeling so..bothered. And why do you look so attractive all of a sudden. Not that you’re not always beautiful, but right now... you’re just breathtaking, and it’s stirring up all sorts of feelings in him. “Why do you smell like this..”

Perfect. Everything was unfolding just as you wanted it! Sure, you didn’t expect him to take the bait so quickly, but who’s complaining? You knew what was coming; after all, this is your boyfriend.

“Hm? Smell like what, handsome? I always smell like this..” You wanted to tease him, to see how far he’d go with it. That turned out to be your biggest mistake.

NSFW

Now your legs were sore, your hips bruised, and your back aching, all while he continued thrusting up into you.

How was he still going? You had been lost in this rhythm for what felt like ages, your bodies entwined and slick with each other's essences.

“Ah-..Fuck..y-you feel so good..”

The air around you was thick with the scent of sweat and desire, a heady mix that only intensified the connection you both shared.

“And you s-smell..so so amazing..shit..it’s got me all types of f-fucked up..”

His face was flushed, lips slightly parted as he breathed heavily, each sound escaping him, a testament to the pleasure building between you.

His grip on your hip grew firmer, guiding your movements up and down his length with a deliberate urgency that sent shivers down your spine.

You could feel the heat radiating from his body, the way his muscles tensed and flexed beneath your touch, each thrust igniting a fire deep within you.

“I-I don’t think m’gonna last long if you keep t-tightening-..fuck..like that baby..”

The quick, shallow breath he took and the tension in his abdomen were unmistakable signs that he was nearing his peak again, ready to fill you completely once more.

You could see the way his eyes filled with desire, the intensity of his gaze locking onto yours as if trying to convey everything he felt in that moment.

It was a silent conversation, one that spoke of longing and need, of a connection that transcended words.

You leaned in closer, your lips brushing against his ear, whispering sweet nothings that only fueled the fire between you.

You begin to rock your own hips against him, matching his thrust causing a small whine to escape his lips, and in return sending waves of pleasure coursing to you.

You could feel the heat pooling in your belly, a delicious ache that begged for release. The way he moved under you, the way he held you, made you feel cherished and desired all at once.

“B-baby I-..m’gonna..fuck- I’m g-gonna cum-..I can’t-..m’gonna- c-cumming!..”

With the broken moan he let out, you could feel him surrenderer to the moment, releasing all he had left inside of him into you and allowing the sensations to wash over him, a small whimper leaving his lips feeling you pulse around him.

You couldn’t help but lose yourself in the pleasure that enveloped you both, and to think..

this was all because of some damn perfume.

Characters: reigen, dimple, kagami, AOMINE, tengen, connie, NISHINOYA, oikawa, GOJO, SOLOMON , CHILDE, KAEYA, wriothesley (Anyone you like)

The type to stare at you from afar

He knew from the moment you entered the room something was off.

Now, he couldn’t shake off his suspicion.

What had exactly changed about you..was it your clothes? Nah..it couldn’t be that.

Maybe you styled your hair differently?..no that’s just stupid; anyone would notice that.

He was so caught up in his thoughts he didn’t even realise just how long he had been staring at you, examining every little detail like you were some kind of puzzle.

It was a little unsettling to say the least but you continued on with sorting out the groceries.

“Hey babe, can you help me with this?”

“No.”

You look at him confused and quite frankly offended.

This mf really just said no to you.

“What do you mean, no?”

“I can’t get close to you.”

That’s exactly the OPPOSITE of what the perfume is supposed to do! It’s supposed to attract him towards you not make him act like a deer in headlights!

“What- why?” You say a little too disappointingly for your liking.

“If I did, I might do something bad.”

Something bad? What could he possibly mean by something ba- ohh…oh. Oh.

Would it be funny if you just said that you wanted him to do that ‘bad’ thing.

NSFW

Okay take back everything you said. This is not funny anymore.

In fact this is just back breaking especially with the way he’s pounding into you all while pressing his face deep inside the crook of your neck.

“H-hah..fuck..I-is this good for y-you too, baby?..”

You can feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, as he struggled to stifle his moans, the soft, enticing sounds escaping him despite his best efforts.

You would be lying if you said this wasn’t exactly what you wanted; after all, you did choose to wear that perfume, the one you knew would draw him in.

I guess you just didn’t anticipate such a strong reaction from him, the way his body responded to your presence, as if he’d been waiting for this moment all along.

The whole experience was incredibly distracting, especially with him so close to your ear, his breath hitching with every whispered compliment you offered.

“F-fuck..pull on my hair..p-please baby..m’so close for you..”

Each time your fingers tangled in his hair, you can feel the tension in his body falter, his hips instinctively responding to your words.

It was as if your gentle praise unlocked something deep within him, a vulnerability that made the air between you thick with unspoken desire.

He didn’t need no perfume to make love to you like this.

Characters: SERIZAWA, giyuu, armin, KAGEYAMA, OSAMU, geto, MAMMON, leviathan, albedo, CYNO, kazuha, XIAO (Anyone you like)

The type to get distracted while you speak

“Just the..the usual..”

“Mm..the usual huh? So mysterious.”

You throw him a quick look, a playful smirk creeping onto your face as you plop down next to him on the couch. With a dramatic sigh, you turn to him.

“Honestly, I was thinking about whipping up something new for us, but I’m not sure it’ll turn out great… Oh! You won’t believe who I bumped into at the store earlier—…”

‘Blah blah blah proper name, place name, backstory stuff..’ (PLEASE TELL ME YOU KNOW WHAT IM TALKING ABOUT)

This man is not listening to a single thing your saying.

Everything is just going through one ear and out the other.

Yet, he’s nodding along, pretending to listen, his eyes locked on yours and occasionally flicking to your lips.

You’ve got him hook line and sinker.

“Babe. Babe, are you even listening to me?”

“..Huh? Y-yeah, you were talking about.. your friend?”

Right, because chopping tomatoes has everything to do with friends.

“Oh really? And what exactly was I saying about said friend?”

“I- you were..y’know..stuff?”

You raise an eyebrow at him

“Look baby I can’t concentrate right now. I don’t know what you did, but my mind is wandering to places it shouldn’t, and it’s messing with me, so please…”

“..please what?” You know what he wants.

“Help a guy out? I know you can see it..”

Oh, you definitely could see it. You could see the huge hard on he had right now, and here he was, asking for your help—there was no way you were going to turn him down.

NSFW

He let out a deep sigh, tilting his head back against the couch, overwhelmed by the pleasure coursing through him as he struggled to maintain eye contact with you.

“You look a-absolutely stunning like this, my love…” His voice was a low murmur, thick with desire, as he took in the sight of you.

The way your mouth enveloped him, gently teasing his skin, sent shivers down his spine, igniting a fire within him that he could hardly contain.

Your lips moved with a tantalising rhythm, each caress sending waves of ecstasy through his body.

“Mhm..like that, k-keep sucking on it like that beautiful..”

He could feel the warmth of your breath, the softness of your touch, and it was all too much to bear.

His hands instinctively found their way to your hair, fingers behind your head, as he tried to guide you, to pull you even closer.

“Jus a l-little more for me baby m’already so close because of you..”

The way your hands explored him, tracing the contours of his body, ignited a primal urge deep within him.

Every gentle stroke, every teasing touch drew a soft gasp from his lips, a sound that echoed the intensity of the moment.

Before long, his breath caught in his throat, and without any warning, he released himself into your mouth.

Soft murmurs of "m’sorry" and "thank you" slipped from his lips, each word laced with a mixture of guilt and gratitude, as if he were acknowledging the weight of the moment while simultaneously surrendering to it.

He tilted his head back again, exposing the graceful curve of his neck, while a deep, guttural moan escaped him.

He clutched the couch for support, his fingers digging into the fabric as he began to calm himself down

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t like that perfume.

Characters: midorima, rengoku, eren, Tsukishima, akaashi, Ushijima, suna, NANAMI, LUCIFER, ayato, DILUC, neuvillette, zhongli (Anyone you like)

The type to suddenly want to be a man

“Doesn’t matter, let me help you with that.”

This probably may have been the fastest you had ever seen this lazy ass man get up from the couch and willing ask to help you with something without you telling him to.

This perfume was doing its damn job alright.

And you were liking it already.

“You sure babe? Do you even know where most of these things go?” you asked, a hint of skepticism in your voice.

“…No, but that doesn’t mean I can’t try for once, right?”

“Yeah sure..” you conceded, your curiosity piqued by his sudden determination.

“Just relax and take it easy. Please. I’ve got this covered.” he assured you, his tone confident and light.

You let him gently guide you back to the couch, ensuring you stayed seated while he headed to the kitchen.

A few moments later, he returned to you.

“Finished already? That was fast—”

Your words were abruptly silenced as another set of lips met yours, warm and insistent.

The unexpected kiss sent a jolt of surprise through you, momentarily stealing your breath away.

You had been caught off guard, your playful teasing hanging in the air like a forgotten thought.

When the kiss finally broke, you both pulled back slightly, as he rested his gaze on you his chest rising gently.

“I want 10 of em.”

“..10 of what?”

“kids.” He replies with a stern look on his face.

“...”

“Is that a yes?”

“You’re joking, right?”

“I’m being deadass.”

NSFW

Well let’s just say he was NOT joking, and was very much being true to his words.

He intended to have those 10 kids, but first, he needed to prepare you.

That's why you found yourself on the bed, your legs resting on his shoulders as he immersed himself in your warmth.

“Mm..so good..you taste so fucking good..”

He was devouring you like a man starved, his tongue skillfully teasing your clit and occasionally sucking on it, making your legs tighten around him even more.

How many times had you cum already with his restless mouth?

Just how long did he plan on keeping this up?

You were already worn out, and now your legs were killing you.

“One more for me pretty girl..come on I know you can do it. You’ve got one more left in ya don’t you..” his words were muffled in with the wet sounds of your juices but you could still hear each and everyone of his dirty talk.

The way he would urge you into coming undone onto his tongue, the way his nose would brush up against your clit as his tongue pummelled into your hole.

It was all too much.

You knew you wouldn’t be able to last much longer anymore especially with his hums of approval sending all the right vibrations down to your mound.

With one last flick of his tongue against your clit, you came, fingers gripping onto his hair tightly.

When catching your breath just as you thought you had finished up with everything, do you hear the rustling of the sheets only to see him preparing to put his length into you.

“Fuck..d-don’t look at me like that princess, you know damn well we aren’t done here, especially with how hard I am now..”

That perfumes going on lock down.

Characters: Sanemi, jean, REINER, UKAI, kuroo, hinata, BOKUTO, atsumu, iwaizumi, CHOSO, DIAVOLO, ITTO, thoma (Anyone you like)

[apopcornkernel]

.

[jayswhorex]

imagine jason putting handcuffs on the reader because he's trying to eat her out and she keeps moving

-🪶

anon this exactly smth jason would do because 100% owns handcuffs solely for this reason. he's definitely not the kind of guy to ever want to put handcuffs on anybody due to his personal hate of the police but using them on his partner, he's for sure into that. jason likes having power in the bedroom and i think he especially has a thing for restring/binding his partner.

jason had you on your back, two fingers gently pumping in and out of you. soft moans & fervent grunts filled the room. your rough grip on his shoulders, while your nails dug into him. "jason please don't stop" you couldn't help but squirm from your embarrassment but also from just how good his fingers felt inside you. you couldn't help but find it difficult to not shift or dig into him. "princess, i've barely even touched you" he said with a chuckle, he knew you were sensitive but he couldn't help but laugh just a bit. he kisses the inside of your thighs in hopes of relaxing you, but that only causes you to more even more "baby please hold still" jason pleads with you, his hands gripping your thighs trying to hold you in place. you could feel your boyfriend getting more and more impatient as he hasn't even gotten the chance to taste you yet. "jay i can’t- you just feel too good"

for a brief second, he looks at you trying to figure out what he can do to make this easier for the both of you. and he quickly forms with an idea. "i'll be right back princess" you whine as he removes his fingers from you, but he only shushes you. you watch him look around your bedroom, going through a couple of drawers but finding nothing. you watch him go through the back of your closet and come out with something in his hands. "these should do" your eyes follow him in a daze, as you're still coming down from a high. you curiously watch as he lifts your hands up to the headboard & then a swift click. you look and realize he's got your hands handcuffed to the goddamn headboard.

he grips your thighs and spreads them open, he gently flicks his tongue against your tongue watching as you failed to move. "perfect, now just relax for me baby" he circles your clit with his tongue, earning those soft moans you always gave him. his tongue sunk into your folds, eliciting a gasp from your lips. jason could feel your shallow breaths becoming more heavy and that only encouraged him to quicken his pace. you feel that habitual urge to grip his hair like usual but you clearly couldn't this time. jason rough hands held onto your thighs for his dear life as his tongue thrusted in and out of you at such an eager pace. "jay please im so so so close-" and less than a second later you made quite the slick mess on his tongue. after a couple of moments of silence and heavy breaths slowing down, you finally spoke again "so can we take these things off now jay?"

"take them off? but we're just getting started baby"

[whimsiwitchy]

Controversially Young Girlfriend (part two)

Hugh Jackman x popstar!reader 

series masterlist & main masterlist

summary: y/n is a globally beloved pop star. She is known for her talent and dedication towards her craft. Recently, she has also been known for her preference for older men. After a breakup with her former older boyfriend, she had a run in with the hottest dilf right now, Hugh Jackman. Y/n tried to warn him, but what can she say, she has an effect on hot, older men. 

warnings: age gap (23/55), cursing, y/n used, implied shorter reader, afab reader, she/her pronouns. 

warnings will change as the story progresses! all descriptions of real people in this story are FAKE. I do not know these people and this is purely fiction. Please let me know if I missed anything!! <3

authors note: I truly appreciate every single one of you who has enjoyed this story and has shown it love. I want to have a slow start to things so I hope everyone appreciates a good slow burn lol. enjoy! <3

part two: pathetic

London was absolutely beautiful. You’d always dreamed of coming here- simply exploring anywhere out of America really. It was so fun being in a foreign place hearing silly accents all day, you loved it. You wanted nothing more than to do a world tour for your debut album but your label decided to play it safe by only touring around North America. Now that you were here, you dreamed bigger and would try your hardest to gain the fan base it took to have a world tour. Traveling was honestly one of the best perks of being famous. 

famous

It was a word you were still getting used to as it almost felt shallow to refer to yourself as such. Though it was true. You were famous. Having that interaction with Hugh and Ryan yesterday made the reality sink in even more. Two men who had been in the industry for decades knew who you were, it was mind boggling to put it simply. The embarrassment seemed to keep creeping in when you would remember your interaction between the two men yesterday. The yelp of surprise and the quick, but loud, ‘holy shit’ that was thrown from your mouth involuntarily made you cringe. Hugh asking about Pedro was something you weren’t prepared for at all either. It made sense for him to ask, if he was a close friend of Pedro’s then your name being brought up didn’t seem like the oddest thing. However, never meeting Hugh before, you wished the conversation could have been different. 

Ugh stupid hot, tall, older, Australian man that could sing. He was literally everything you found attractive bundled up into one man. You had a brief obsession with The Greatest Showman, as every theater kid did, but your celebrity crush of the movie was Zac Efron. If only freshman you could see current you, she’d probably laugh. 

Hugh had been on your mind all night and hadn’t left since you woke up this morning. If you could remember, you’d be certain he was the focus of your dreams too. The following and the comment was shocking to say the least. From Ryan’s words, they were fans but why did he follow you after he had met you instead of before. Ha, as you think about it more, it probably wasn’t even him. It was more than likely someone who was hired to run his socials, just like the person on your team that posted that photo for you. You were definitely overthinking it all…This morning when you were brushing your teeth, you kept trying to remember the feeling of his big hand on the base of your spine. It was all a bit pathetic. 

“Helloooo…earth to y/n.” Ashley, your best friend, says as she snaps her fingers in front of your face. “Are you going to tell me what has you all spaced out or do I have to deal with you moping around this entire trip?” There's a hint of annoyance in her voice. 

Ashley has been your best friend since middle school. She was always your number one supporter, so in return, you take her almost everywhere with you. Of course you invited her to London and of course she planned an entire itinerary around your busy work schedule. Her company was appreciated but it was impossible to hide your emotions from her, making moments like this difficult. 

“I’m sorry. It’s nothing really, it can wait until later.” If the two of you weren’t sitting in the middle of a small cafe, you would have told her every single thought that sat in your brain, but you couldn’t. You never knew who was listening in on your conversations. That became something you had to get used to, not being able to exist in public. It usually wasn’t too bad, for example, you could sit in a cafe with your best friend but sometimes things got out of hand and you couldn’t even walk down the street.

“Okay, you better.” She gave you an understanding nod. “So, I bought us tickets to go on the London Eye at 2pm then I thought we could go grab a late lunch or dinner, whatever you-” You’re looking at her and nodding trying your best to pay attention but you can’t. You hated the way one singular interaction with Hugh had your entire day scrambled. If you ever saw him again, you’d have to tell him off for being so hot and ruining the fun London trip you had planned. 

—

The wait for the London Eye ended up taking an extra forty five minutes and Ashley was pissed. She was a very schedule oriented person, one minute off and she’s stressed the fuck out. The entire time we waited, she complained and would have had the king on the phone if you hadn't stopped her. Her mood was unchanged by the time you stepped into your private cart.

“If I tell you all of my boy drama, would it make you calm down and enjoy the ride?” You ask slyly as you look down at the water below as the wheel starts to move the bubble you’re sitting in higher. 

She gasps and her eyes go wide.

“BOY DRAMA???” She screams out, her previous negative mood disappearing and her eyes light up with excitement.

You sigh as you gather your thoughts. 

“Well..it’s not really drama. I may or may not have a teensy crush on someone.” 

“Oh my god!! Who is it? Have I met them?” 

“Uh no. I actually just met him-” She’s cutting you off before you can finish your sentence. 

“YOU SLUT!” She yells, pointing an accusing finger at you. 

“What the hell Ash? I didn’t even tell yo-” 

“It’s Hugh fucking Jackman isn’t it? Stacy said she saw the way you looked at him yesterday. Jesus y/n, you don’t even know the guy.” She’s rambling on, judgment clear in her voice. 

“Since when are you and Stacy on talking terms?” You purposely ignore everything else she said. Ashley was jealous of Stacy for awhile. When you asked her about it she claimed that Stacy was trying to steal her best friend away. It took a lot of reassurance that the relationship you had with Stacy was work before friendship- and if she had become a good friend along the way, that was something you weren’t going to tell Ashley. 

“We can be civil when it comes to concerns for you.” 

“And what concerns are there lately?” 

“Huh… Stacy let me in on your little conversation yesterday about swearing off men for a little bit but once Hugh stepped through the door, she said that she could tell that idea was out the window.” She’s trying her hardest to keep a straight face but there was a slight smirk peeking through. 

“Oh my fucking god, you guys are so dramatic. Yes he’s fine as FUCK but like you said I dont know him. I probably won’t ever see him again.” You sigh at the end. You really wanted to see him again. 

“What even happened that has you wrapped around his finger already?” You don’t speak for a moment as you think about how to say your thoughts without feeling dumb. 

“Please don’t tell me you only have a crush on him because he’s hot…You take your crushes too far for that.” There's a look of panic resting on her face. 

“He uh…well…you know how we took the pictures yesterday for BBC?” You ask and she's nodding. “I thought he looked good but I swear I wasn’t thinking anything irrational. It was when we had to take those stupid pictures and he rested his hand on my back…Ash, I swear there was a spark or something. It felt so… I don’t know…so.. right?” The cart you’re in is sitting at the top of the wheel and you’re taking advantage of the view while you wait for Ashley to respond. When she doesn’t, you turn to look at her. She’s staring blankly at you, giving you slow blinks. 

“What?” Your voice is soft, barely above a whisper. 

“Y/n, how old is he?” Her expression is unchanging. 

“Fifty five…I googled it last night..” You were feeling ashamed of your behavior. You felt like a kid with a stupid school crush. Pathetic. 

“Hm, that’s your oldest yet. What’s next, eighty or ninety five is probably more to your taste huh?” She’s making fun of you and it hurts. You know she’s never approved of your taste in men but you can’t really help it. It’s not like you block out guys your age, they just don’t satisfy you. They’re mean, boring, and losers. You wanted a real man. Someone who was established in life and could take care of you. 

“Whatever..” You let out softly. The cart was nearing the bottom once again and you were ready to be free of the room of gossip and judgment. 

“Y/n… you know I only want what’s best for you. I mean look at what happened with Pedro and all the other men before him.” She’s sincere and you understand her point of view but you wished she would understand yours as well. 

“I know Ash. It’s just a stupid crush anyways.” It was more of a reminder to yourself rather than to Ashley. She was right, you did have a habit of taking your crushes too far. You always had to try to get the guy who held your attention but you were confident in who you were. Most times it worked but a break from dating was what was best for you. 

—

To apologize for being mean, Ashley was currently on the phone with some poor worker from one of Gordon Ramsay’s restaurants. She already made a reservation for tomorrow night but thought tonight would be better to cheer you up. You tried to reason with her by telling her that there were plenty of great restaurants in London we could get into tonight, but she insisted on having a very touristy dinner tonight instead of tomorrow, like it made any of a difference. 

“I know the reservation is for tomorrow but miss y/l/n needs it for tonight.” Her voice is strong and unwavering, determined to get a table tonight. She’s been throwing your name around left and right hoping that someone would know who you were. It all felt too pretentious for your liking but you couldn’t control Ashley when she was like this. 

You were sprawled across your hotel bed, scrolling through instagram. The voices inside your head were screaming to look at Hugh’s page, just a peak. Last night after you saw the comment, you practically threw your phone across the room, too afraid to look at it again. You're honestly thankful for that reaction because who knows how long you would have stayed awake thinking about it and diving into his life. You did make that quick google search to see just how old he was but that was the end of your exploration. 

Your fingers moved faster than your brain could process, typing his name into the search bar and clicking his profile the second it popped up. You didn’t have to scroll far into his account before your heart started to race. You clicked on a mirror selfie he had posted of him in his wolverine costume with sunglasses on. The pose and the caption really showed his age but for your sick brain, it made everything about him even sexier. You cautiously swiped out of that picture to prevent an accidental like. The next picture to catch your attention was one of Hugh in the trunk of a car. Your eyes almost jump out of your face with your tongue rolling onto the ground like the cartoons. The size of his arm was insane. You weren’t one to go for muscular men, but Hugh could choke you out with that arm any time he wanted to. His smile was so dreamy. You hadn’t seen Deadpool and Wolverine yet, not really having interest before, but now you might have to take a solo trip to the movies. You were cooked.

“Thank you, I’m glad we were able to come to an agreement. Yes tonight at 8pm.” Ashley is hanging up the phone and lets out a high pitched squeal. 

“How do you do that?” You’ve always been amazed at her negotiating skills and her ability to get whatever she wants. 

“Natural talent..also having a famous bestie doesn’t hurt.” She giggles and checks the time. Her laughter turns to a gasp. “We have to get ready, it’s already 6pm!” She’s gathering her things and as she’s rushing out of the door, she’s telling you that she’ll be back soon to get dolled up together. 

You had to learn how to style yourself over the past year of being in the limelight. Fashion was something you had been interested in but in Minden, if you dressed too out of the ordinary, people would stare. You shied away from it for longer than necessary and only recently learned how to express yourself freely thanks to your stylist, Kat. For dinner, you picked out a lengthy fitted black dress. It had the prettiest floral pattern that covered it with butterflies popping up here and there. What sold you on the dress though were the two frilly pieces of fabric that hung on either side of the dress. It was stunning and it looked even better on you. You decided on letting your hair sit in its natural state, not caring to put much effort into it. 

When Ashley came tumbling back into your room, wearing a red fitted dress, the two of you put some music on and got to work. You weren’t going for a super complicated makeup look, simply deciding on a small winged eyeliner, mascara, a dark blood red lip stain, and a hint of blush. Layering a few necklaces and adding some hooped earrings, your look was almost complete. All that was left were a pair of black heels that had two strings that you effortlessly swirled around your calf tying it into a cute bow at the top. 

“You look smoking hot! Let me take a picture of you.” Ashley whistles and grabs your phone to take a few shots. She was right, you looked good. You decided to post one of the pictures of your instagram story with a small caption that said ‘dinner time 😋’. 

What you loved about Ashley is that she took your fame with a grain of salt most of the time. When you wanted to take an uber or taxi somewhere, she never complained. You often got tired of taking private cars everywhere, wanting a little normality when you could get it. The uber ride over was a quiet one, both of you too focused on the view outside of your own windows, soaking in the reality of being in Europe. 

The restaurant was gorgeous. It wasn’t over the top fancy with normal everyday people littering the dining area, it was nice. Ashley and yourself were in quiet conversation as you looked over the menu. Feeling adventurous, you asked the waitress what she recommended and you ended up ordering the dish. Sipping on your espresso martini, you took a moment to feel grateful for the life you got to live. 

“Oh you have got to be kidding me.” Ashley is sighing with a slight roll of her eyes. 

“Good evening y/n.” A voice is approaching behind you before you could question Ashleys sudden annoyance. It was a voice you recognized, hearing it the day before. You turn around to see Hugh standing behind your left shoulder and you stand up to greet him properly. You’ve gotten accustomed to hugging almost everyone you meet nowadays, you lean in without thinking. 

“Oh my god! Hi Hugh.” There's a big grin on your face. It felt like a sign that you were seeing him again. 

“I don’t want to bother you ladies for too long. I recognized your dress and wanted to come say hi. I also wanted to apologize for bringing up Pedro yesterday, it was rude of me to do without even introducing myself first.” He lets out in his gruff voice, accent strong. His arm and yours are still interlocked in a weird side hug type of position. 

“It’s totally fine, you didn’t know.” You look into his eyes with utmost sincerity. “Oh uh, this is my best friend Ashley. Ashley, this is Hugh.” He breaks the side hug to reach to shake Ashley’s hand. 

“Nice to meet you.” Hugh lets out and Ashley responds with a short ‘you too.’ You give her a look that says ‘be nice’. 

“Well, I’ll get out of your hair. It was really nice seeing you again sweetheart.” He smiles down at you.

“It was nice seeing you again as well.” 

“Here let me.” He’s motioning to your chair. You take a seat and he's pushing it forward for you. 

“Thank you.” Looking back at him with a shy smile. He gives your shoulder a squeeze of acknowledgment and he’s walking away. 

“Maybe the universe does want you with a man old enough to be your grandfather. I mean what are the fucking odds of running into him at a Gordon Ramsay restaurant.” Ashley lets out in total disbelief. 

You don’t say anything, you give a sly shrug instead. The rest of the dinner is tame. The food was delicious and you felt woozy from the martinis you’d been downing. Ashley let you know half way through the dinner that Hugh was sitting not to far from us and that he ‘had a fucking staring problem’, her words exactly. It made you giddy to think he was looking over here and if you begged Ashley to trade seats with you it was no one else's business. She obviously refused and you spent the rest of your time focusing on your friend, with Hugh sitting in the corner of your mind. 

When you got back to the hotel, you immediately stripped yourself from your heels and dress. Laying in the bed in nothing but your undergarments, you opened instagram and took a look at your story one more time, wanting to see just how good you looked. It was shallow for sure but it made you feel good. You saw the hearts flooding the bottom of the screen and decided to swipe up to see who had liked it. As you scrolled nothing really caught your attention until that name caught your eye again.

“I recognized your dress and wanted to come say hi.” 

What the actual fuck.

thank you for reading <3

part three

series taglist: @chronicallybubbly @spideybv28 @pear-1206 @robertthehoover @reidsworld @bloody-bunni666 @quillycrow @kythefangirl25 @bluetimeombre

I think I got everyone tagged that asked to be! If you want to be added/removed let me know. <3

[luveline]

oooh what about a lil blurb about bombshell r and spencer where it's the first time in their relationship that one of them is super sick and the other has to take care of them?? if you're feeling up for it ofc!! love u jade <333

ty for requesting<3<3 fem, 1k

“I’m sicker than a sick dog. I’m half cough.” 

Spencer frowns at his phone where it lays on speaker at the breakfast table. “You are? What kind of cough?” 

“It’s awful, I can’t tell you. You’ll stop loving me.” 

Spencer smiles even though he wants to grimace. He told you he loved you a few days ago, and you hadn’t said it back, but you certainly hadn’t stopped liking him. You’re more obsessed with him than before, he’d argue. It’s a great feeling, almost as good as an I love you in return would’ve been. 

(He doesn’t blame you for not saying it. You’ve been officially dating for less than a month. He shouldn’t have said it, only he’d been lying in your bed about to go to sleep with your hand in his and he’d never felt anything like it, not home but safe, not home but comfortable, and so so wanted.) 

“I don’t think that’s true,” Spencer says.

“I’m gonna order some soup I think. What are you gonna do today?” Your voice is thick like you can’t breathe through your nose, but still yours.

“I’m gonna put my shoes on and come see you, I guess.” 

“Yeah?”

It’s a no brainier. “What soup do you want, Y/N?” 

He says your name like a compliment. You laugh down the line, which turns into a cough, and a pained moan. “Any kind of soup, babe. You’re really gonna come and see me?” 

“Someone has to take care of you. Ideally me.” 

“Too right.” 

When Spencer gets to your apartment thirty rushed minutes later, you’re already worse. He knocks on your door and you answer with a hand covering your face, your breath audibly shallow. “I forgot that being sick makes you ugly.” 

Spencer takes your wrist in his hand kindly. “Nothing can make you ugly. Come on, let me see.” 

“I’m serious.” 

“So am I!” 

You aren’t pretty, you’re stunning. You’re gorgeous. You’ve been the most beautiful woman Spencer’s ever seen since the moment he saw you, not just because of your looks, of which you take great care, but because of your heart, how kind you’d been to him and continue to be. Your confident personality has never once made you cruel. He couldn’t say the same for most people, so you could have snot running down your lips and a zit the size of Quantico on your forehead and he’d still think you were the most amazing thing he’d ever seen. 

“Come on,” he says again, “I know you’re still beautiful.” 

You let him pull your hand down, unveiling your puffy eyes and chapped nose. “I don’t know how I got sick so fast.” 

The tote bag he’d brought with him slips into his elbow and pulls down his sweater sleeve as he grabs your shoulder. “You said you looked ugly.” 

“I do!” 

“All you do is lie.” He gives you a small smile. Am I doing this flirting thing right? 

“I wanna kiss you so bad.”

Your audible heartbreak is convincing. “I’ll still kiss you.” His desperation is even more evident than yours. “I’d love to kiss you.” Even if it’s usually you who kisses him. 

You close your eyes and lean in for a kiss at the same time. Just one kiss, firm for a millisecond, no parting lips or tongue to be seen but just as good a kiss as any other. Spencer must’ve had about thirty of them now, yet a kiss from you never feels real. 

“I’ll look after you if you get sick,” you promise, pulling away. 

He was counting on it. He hates germs, hates being sick, but he loves you. Whatever happens is out of his hands. 

You seem a little unsteady on your feet, now Spencer’s looking at you. You’re wearing loose white pyjamas with blue flowers, and on your feet you have a pair of shoes somewhere between slippers and boots, brown fabric with fluffy white insides he’s seen you sporting on the jet from time to time when you’re at your most achingly tired. 

You look adorable and tipping. He eases out of his shoes, sliding the bag of tinned soup, crackers and about seventy dollars worth of cold medicine onto the sideboard so he can put his hand under your arm. 

“Let’s go back to bed,” he says, wrapping you in a supportive hug. 

“Forward,” you tease. 

You shouldn’t. Spencer thinks about intimacy with you and goes insanely pink everytime, though you’re far from new to one another. He especially doesn’t wanna think about it as you cross your room and flop down into bed with a tired sigh. “Come lay down?” 

“I’m wearing jeans.” 

“Did you sit down on the subway?” 

“No, I drove here.” 

“Come on, Spence. Your germs are fine.” You smile at the ceiling as he sits down at the top of your bed. “You drove here? You hate driving.” 

“It was quickest.” 

You drop your head into his lap. Your breathing is laboured. 

“You okay?” he asks you. 

“Just missed you.” 

“I brought you some stuff. Vapour rub and decongestant spray, painkillers, vitamins, everything.” He leans down as he wraps his arms over your front, a promise to look after you. “Try to take a deep breath, angel,” he advises sympathetically. “You sound really out of breath.” 

“Too much standing up.” 

“Standing up can be good for you when you’re sick. It stops you from getting idle diseases and bed sores, and walking is even better for you if you can manage it, it helps unclog your sinuses.” He finishes his fact, and he looks down at you all poorly in his lap, remembering very quickly how lucky he is to have found someone who listens. You didn’t interrupt. You wouldn’t have even thought about it, he’s sure. “But no more standing up or walking around. I’m gonna get you anything you need. You’ll be better in no time.” 

You give him your own grateful smile. “Thank you.” You scrunch up your nose. 

“Are you gonna sneeze? I got balsam tissues.” The damage to your nose has already been done. “Do you have any chapstick? We’ll rub some on your nose to stop it from getting any drier.” 

Your wrinkled nose worsens. “Thank you for coming to look after me,” you say weakly. 

He wants to say you’re his best friend in the whole world, but you’re more than that now. “You’re welcome,” he says quietly, ducking down to plant a kiss near your eyebrow. “I always want to look after you. This is just the first time you’ve let me.” 

You smile contentedly, your voice falling to a whisper. “Will you tell me you love me again?” 

Spencer doesn’t think he’s in any position to deny you. “I love you,” he says truthfully. “Thank you for letting me come over.” 

You turn your face into his arm. “Thank you for wanting to, handsome.” 

[goldenstring6123]

Zayne: Morning Afterglow

Warning: Smut, MDNI, 18+, 2k words, no plot (just a lazy morning), gentle (?) sex, Cunnilingus, unprotected sex, sensual love making. AFAB!reader, Reader may or may not be the mc.

Author's note: how do you write gentle sex exactly???? request made by anon!

A big hand roamed the expanse of your back, tasting its warmth.

For a second, the touch disappeared, changing to a single finger. Carefully, it traced every dip and crevice formed by your position as you lay on your side—your spine, the dip in your shoulder blades, the folds of your love handles, and your Venus dimples.

You held your breath at the thought of Zayne doing it. He's been doing this the whole week. Whenever you were distracted by something, his hand would always come into contact with your body, touching it for his own amusement. It wasn't even intimate or erotic; it was just plain eccentric and out of character.

"Are you that interested in my body? How scandalous of you, Dr. Zayne!" You exclaimed, over-exaggerating your tone.

To your words, he merely responded with a blink and a stare before turning away from you. You were perplexed. Who wouldn't be?! Is this his way of getting accustomed to touching you?

"I know you're awake," Zayne whispered, his lips just behind your ears. You shiver at the lowness of his voice and stiffen as his hand lands on your hips. "Why are you holding your breath?"

"I was woken up to you touching me," you replied back. It's not that you were complaining about it, but it felt… nice. Even if there was no malice to his touch, it sent a small jolt of electrical shock from your back to everywhere. "But good morning."

Zayne's lips touched the nape of your neck, placing a light kiss. His hand, which was on your hip, traced carefully from your waist up to your shoulder. You can't help but crave a kiss, so you slightly turn behind you and meet his face. "Are you still sore from last night?" he gently asked, giving another peck on the forehead.

You shook your head from side to side.

"Good," he whispered, accompanied by a kiss on the nose. Zayne tugged off the plain white duvet that was the only thing covering your naked body. That took you off guard. "May I?" he asked, and you finally rolled to his side of the bed, revealing yourself in all your naked glory. Hickey-riddled neck and collarbones, your stomach, your pinkish thighs, and your supple breasts. He basked in the sight of you riddled with his love marks.

"What's gotten you so eager this morning?" you asked, but he did not respond. He simply pulled you closer and finally laid a kiss on your lips. You had to blink thrice before giving in to his all-too-gentle kiss—a stark contrast to the harsh, hungry kisses he was gnawing out of you last night.

You opened your lips and let his tongue enter, pushing and sliding against yours while shallow whimpers escaped your mouth. You could still taste the sweetness of the chocolate from last night. His hand didn't lay dormant; it stroked and touched everything it came across before landing on your nipples.

"Mhm?" you let out when his cold fingertips brushed the peak of your breasts. You arched your chest out even further in the hopes of coming into contact with his fingers again. Your breasts were more sensitive that morning, probably due to Zayne's rough suckling and kneading. The light hue had turned more reddish, and it seemed like they were almost swollen, yet they didn't hurt at all.

You and your lover pulled away from the kiss, a silver thread connecting both of your tongues. Zayne adored the redness of your ears and your low-lidded eyes; you were in a trance as well, certainly in the mood for much more.

He got on his elbows and lowered his face onto your left breast, blowing on it. You flinched at the cold air, making you grab a fistful of his black locks. You glared at him, and he grinned. He opened his mouth and gently lapped at your breast. The other hand found its way to the right and flicked on the nipple at the same time his tongue struck up.

"Ah…" Your back lifted slightly, but the rest of Zayne's body was pressing you down. Despite it not hurting, he was still gentle with his actions. He sucked lightly, swirling his tongue and teasing the bud. You enjoyed the efforts of his mouth and fingers, letting out a sequence of weak moans.

Every movement was like a small electric spark from your chest down to your womanhood.

You can't help but let out ragged breaths as your heart beat strongly against your chest. You attempted to calm yourself down by staring at the ceiling, yet Zayne playfully bit your nipple and pinched the other. You thrust your hips against his stomach and let out a loud, unguarded moan.

You could feel something hardening and rubbing against your own thigh, but you couldn't really care less because your lover showered your torso with so many kisses. He left trails and trails of them all over, worshipping your body like a devoted believer. He went lower and lower, and his mouth stopped right at your entrance.

Zayne paused, eyeing every mark he left. He then eyed your womanhood, gazing at it with slight hunger.

The warmth of Zayne's body had disappeared from your own, and the cold wind of the air conditioner took its place. There came the slight embarrassment on your face—he was staring for too long, even if there was nothing to look at down there.

You instinctively closed your thighs shut, but it was soon a futile attempt as Zayne's hands held them open. "Don't close your legs, Honey." Zayne could see the blush on your cheeks, and you couldn't do anything other than lay your head back and wait. For dear life, you grabbed one of Zayne's pillows and pressed it over your eyes and the bridge of your nose. Partially, it was because you were shy, but deep down, you did it because you wanted to feel the sensation even more.

You waited. The minute seemed like an hour, but then finally, finally, you could feel your lover's mouth. You swallowed your saliva and spread your legs a little wider. Zayne kissed the inners of your thighs and gave you a generous, fluid-coated lick, lathering your pussy. You throbbed as his hot tongue brushed on the lips of your womanhood.

"Mhhm," you let out. His finger briefly disappeared from your thighs, but then you suddenly felt yourself being opened. You pressed the pillow harder on your eyes to cope with the embarrassment you felt at being wide open. It wasn't your first time with Zayne, and it's not uncommon for him to do this, but every time, you can't help but feel the shame.

Your hips squirmed at the cold air, but at the same time, you throbbed, feeling a slimy fluid drip out of your hole. "Zayne…" you called in the hopes that he could hurry it up. The surgeon's green eyes flickered up to you, but he clicked his tongue in dissatisfaction. Why were you covering your face with the pillow?

Swiftly, he yanked it away from you and discarded it to the floor. And while you were in the midst of complaining, his tongue nudged your clit. Slowly, you could feel Zayne's tongue move side to side, firmly and quickly, wasting no time to prepare you. "Ah! Ah! Zayne!" you screamed, hips bucking higher to add more pressure to his face. He wrapped his hands around your thigh while your hand was still in his hair.

He continued eating you out, holding you in the same position all the while he got drunk off of the lewd noises that came from your mouth. You were ebbing at the sensation. Your sex organ was clenching and relaxing at the pleasurable sensations coming from your clit. "Ah—Zayne, I'm—" You couldn't continue your words.

The moment you locked eyes with Zayne, a gentle heat radiated from your core.

The muscles in your legs tightened, and your back arched. A familiar, wonderful tingle erupted out of your vagina. You felt yourself burst, the uninterrupted pleasure prolonged by Zayne's continuous lapping. He held on to you and focused on your reactions, adoring how you whimpered out of pleasure.

You basked momentarily in the bliss that your body had experienced, ignoring your lover, who quietly disappeared from between your legs. You closed your eyes for a moment.

You didn't know what it was you experienced, but it was certainly new—an orgasm that wasn't hard, yet it was a satisfactory one. You stared at the ceiling, a portion of your energy depleted from the early morning activities. Your lids grew heavy, and the cool breeze was nice against the skin, but before you could even doze off, a hand wrapped itself around your calves.

"Eh?" one of your legs had been hung above Zayne's shoulder, and when you glanced to look, there he was again in between your legs. Zayne's cock stood upright, rock solid, like it was ready to burst.

"Can…I put it in?" he asked, rubbing his cheek on your ankle. His ears were deep red, and his eyes were almost pleading. Who could say no to him? You nodded, and Zayne aligned himself with your entrance.

The high and sensitivity from your orgasm were still there, but you were still eager to move on. You marveled at Zayne's well-toned torso, seeing it move as he thrust his hip forward, careful not to hurt you. The stretch didn't hurt; if anything, it felt good. He pushed himself in further, stopping every now and then because your insides were throbbing.

Your insides squeezed his cock in an irregular rhythm, and it felt good. It was hot inside you, and he was craving more, but it felt like It was the right moment to bask in this sensation. Zayne began to lightly move his hips, giving you shallow thrusts. He held onto your thigh, fingers digging into the flesh a bit while his other hand was guiding his hip.

Heavy breaths escaped from his lips. He was trying his best to hold back, but he couldn't help but let out a few mewls. It felt good inside you. Maddeningly good, yet uncannily, there was no urge to go rougher. He wanted to take his sweet time.

His shallow thrusts went deeper and deeper until you were practically being rocked against him. Your skin rubbed against the sheets while your insides felt like they were being repeatedly stretched, filled one moment and empty the next. Your vision was turning white, flickering with every movement.

Zayne's pace was becoming faster and faster, and it was evident that he was moving to please himself even more. His girth was perfect, managing to add just the right amount of pressure to your favorite spot while his tip kept kissing and touching your cervix. He relished how you were sucking him in, not wanting to let go.

He kept his pace for a little while longer, but then he changed his position, lifting the other leg and pushing himself right over you. He dipped his hips into your opening. "Deep…" you panted. "Zayne—you're so deep…" He kept on doing it until you could practically hear both of your skins making slapping noises.

The series of noises grew louder and louder until Zayne wasn't holding back his relished moans, the guttural noises turning you on even more. He lowered his head to your ear and nibbled lightly while he pushed open your fingers, intertwining them together. "Cumming…mhm!" He kept on thrusting and thrusting, getting sloppier until Zayne buried himself, his everything, into yours.

You let out a choked cry, and Zayne let out a quivering moan in return, his abs and body stiffening as you felt spurts of white hit against your inner flesh. It was hot—and filling you up.

He thrust a little bit more, eager to prolong his ejaculation, but soon after, his body wilted onto yours.

"Honey," you cried, tapping his sweat-riddled back. Your lover was still breathing heavily, a little fuzzy over his climax. "You're heavy…" you whispered in his ear. While he kept himself inside you, as more seconds passed, you felt him go a little softer, with his breathing balanced out. When you turned your head, merely centimeters apart from his—he was fast asleep.

"A lazy day it is," You thought, falling asleep while being crushed underneath your lover's weight.

It was a peaceful morning in your residence.

Author footnotes: I added Caleb because I want to slowly integrate him to my works.

Layout by me, using canva premium | Do not repost |

[unboundprompts]

If you’re still doing request, is it OK if you either

Describe writing a panic attack?

Or

Describe someone who has gray eyes?

-> a link for gray eye descriptions: x

How to Write a Panic Attack

Physical Symptoms of a Panic Attack:

pounding or racing heart

sweating

chills

trembling

difficulty breathing

weakness or dizziness

tingly or numb hands

chest pain

stomach pain or nausea

feeling lightheaded

tense muscles

dry mouth

constriction in the chest

feeling like they're being choked

Other Symptoms:

heightened vigilance for danger and physical symptoms

anxious and irrational thinking

a strong feeling of dread, danger or foreboding

fear of going mad, losing control, or dying

feelings of unreality and detachment from the environment

Triggers for a Panic Attack:

something unexpected (ex: a phone call)

a reminder (objects, smells, locations, specific phrases, etc. that can be tied back to a traumatic experience)

stress (from work, a relationship, family, etc. that has been building up)

silence (ex: being alone in a quiet room. The silence can amplify a sense of isolation)

flashbacks (a trigger that causes the person to flash back to a traumatic memory)

out of nowhere (sometimes panic attacks just get triggered by seemingly nothing)

Writing Prompts:

-> feel free to edit and adjust pronouns as you see fit.

He couldn't breathe. Oh God, he couldn't breathe and he was going to die.

She knew the panic was building up, but it crashed over her like a tsunami that swept her off her feet. The pull threatened to pull her out to sea and it was all-consuming.

They felt the panic begin to wrap its arms around them like a shadow.

"Is it okay if I hold your hand?"

"Don't touch me-- don't touch me!"

Her mind was running at a million miles a second but she couldn't pinpoint a single thought.

"It's okay. You're safe."

An icy hand had reached through their ribcage and was squeezing their heart. They couldn't breathe and they didn't know what to do to regain their breath.

"My chest hurts. It hurts."

"I can't!"

They were a crumpled heap, stowed away in the corner as tears streamed down their face.

She felt like she was on a boat out at sea, the room swaying and adding to the nausea that was washing over her.

He felt like he was having a heart attack.

They gasped for air but each breath felt shallower than the last.

She could hear her heart pounding in her ears, beating like a panicked drum to the rhythm of her fear.

He felt like he was standing on the edge of a building.

They couldn't move. It was like someone was holding down their limbs, the panic rendering them utterly frozen.

If you like what I do and want to support me, please consider donating! I also offer editing services and other writing advice on my Ko-fi!

[shewroteaworld]

I'll Hold Your Weight When You Can't

Premise: Brilliant sunshine!reader gets heat stroke on a case. Your best friend, Spencer Reid, is predictably worried about you. What he doesn't expect is to be forced to come to terms with his feelings for you.

Word count: approx. 3,200

TW: Brief mention of vomit and, perhaps, hospitals

(Y/N/N): Your nickname

Author's Note: Super excited to introduce brilliant sunshine!reader (aka, super smart sunshine!reader) onto my fanfic writing scene! Definitely willing to write more of her in the future if anyone is interested. Hope you enjoy!

“Does anybody have more water?”

“Where is the damn ambulance?”

Perhaps your job classically conditioned you to respond to Hotch’s “I’m seriously not fucking around” tone because your eyes crack open. 

Someone put weights on your eyelids and cranked the sun to extra-bright. The harsh rays burned your retinas and washed everything in a white blur. Did someone set off a flash bang?

“(Y/N)? Can you hear me?” Miraculously, out of the screeching white, you made out JJ’s halo of blonde hair. 

“JJ?” You groaned. Even though you could barely see, it felt like the whole world was spinning, 

“Hotch, she’s coming around!” You recognized Morgan’s voice. “Welcome back to the world of the living, honey. We’re happy to see you.”

Your heart rate spiked. You never died. Did you die? 

“Yes, we still need a medic!” Hotch barked. 

You winced. “Wha?” Suddenly, your mouth couldn’t handle a one-syllable world. Even more alarming, your brain, the same brain that kept up with Emily Prentiss and Spencer Reid,  couldn’t understand what the hell was going on.

 “What I do?” You whined. 

“He’s not yelling at you, honey,” JJ said like a kindergarten teacher. “You’re just a little out of it right now.”

“Is she conscious?” Another voice entered. Your head spun. “I brought more water.” 

You moaned to suppress a gag. Your eyelids drooped, and you relished in the break from the light.

“Hey, smarty pants, stay with us.” Morgan pat your cheek. “Let Emily get some water in you.” You couldn’t force your eyes open more if you tried.

Your friend Emily. That’s who the voice belonged to. 

Suddenly, JJ pulled your hair from your face, Morgan lifted your head, and Emily forced a water bottle to your lips simultaneously.  The blinding glare seared your eyes and your head spun. You wanted to sob and maybe vomit.

Your chest hitched with a shallow inhale. “Stop.” You whined.

“(Y/N), it’s okay. Take a deep breath.” JJ said.

“No!” You exclaimed.

“Honey–” Morgan tried. 

You thrashed against his hold, but your exhausted muscles couldn’t throw Morgan’s gentlest grip. 

“Maybe we should let her go.” Emily said.

“She needs water.” JJ countered.

“She’s disoriented.” Hotch cut in. “Let her get her bearings first, but don’t let her close her eyes.”

Gingerly, Morgan lay your body back on the grass. Your head swam, and your vision rippled as if you could see the heat waves in the California air. You tried to take a deep breath but choked.  

You sputtered. Every inhale led to a series of dry coughs. In your delirium, you thought of Spencer. Your Spencer. Where the hell was he? Did he not love you anymore?

Suddenly, Hotch loomed over you. His tall frame blocked out the brutality of the sun’s glare, which eased your headache and nausea but not your cough. His eyebrows were so deeply furrowed they formed a trench of wrinkles across his forehead. “Check her airway.” 

Suddenly, you stared into JJ’s blue eyes. Other hands tried to manipulate your body. You jerked.

“(Y/N), relax.”

“Honey, please–”

“Turn her on her side!” Morgan’s cut off by Reid, his voice sharper than you’d ever heard. 

***

Spencer Reid has survived many traumatic situations. 

He's cared for his schizophrenic mother. He’s been kidnapped. He recovered from a drug addiction. And those are just a few items from his dissertation-length “PTSD-Causing Experiences” list. 

But many of his worst traumas were a by-product of being a profiler– a job which allowed him to utilize his intellect to help others. He was willing to accrue trauma like Pokemon cards in exchange for applying his genetic gifts to create a safer world. 

Reid could have framed your heat exhaustion as another scare in the line of duty. But when Reid saw you, his brilliant girl, on the ground, his heart fell through his feet.

Then, he saw how his the team responded to your medical emergency.

When he witnessed you coughing and writhing on your back as the team leered over with water, he thought he might explode.

You could be asphyxiating, and the team could be letting you choke while forcing more fluid down your throat. 

He shivered as he sprinted down the steps of the local precinct and onto the grassy field where you lay. 

“Turn her on her side!” He yelled as diagnoses and courses of action fled through his mind on hyperspeed.

“We’re trying, she—”

“Spence?” You choked out through a coughing fit. He’s surprised his ears caught it.

Reid knelt next to you. “Let’s get you into recovery position.” He said, his voice suddenly soft as clouds. Reid gingerly pushed you onto your left side. “Off your back, there we go.” He bent your right leg and slid it in front of your body to prevent you from rolling onto your stomach if you lost consciousness. 

“Did she faint?” Reid asked the team. He couldn’t take his eyes from your face. 

“We think so. She was dizzy, so she laid on the ground. Then she was unresponsive for at least 40 seconds,” Emily said. 

Spencer pressed the back of his hand to your forehead. Predictably, you were feverishly hot. “She’s burning up. Has someone called an ambulance?”

“Allegedly.” Hotch said, an edge to his voice. 

“We have, sir. They’re on their way.” A local police officer responded, exasperated.

Spencer’s eye twitched. “How long has she been down?” You whined, and he stroked your cheekbone with his thumb.

“It’s okay, sweetheart.” He whispered. 

“In total, 15 minutes.” Hotch supplied. “Emily, pour some more water on her.”

“This was for her to drink.”

“Use one bottle to pour on her face and neck.” Spencer said. “I ran and got Gatorade. She should start with sips of that when she can swallow. Heat stroke can also be caused by salt depletion.” 

Spencer was conversing with a local officer over the safety protocols in the area when a pair of policemen walked into the precinct, gossiping about the FBI agent who “folded fast in the southern Cali heat.”

Spencer’s jaw had clenched. Maybe one of his team members was ill since they put in most of the grunt work to catch the unsub. He would’ve been more annoyed if not for the worry gnawing at his brain. What if they were talking about (Y/N)? She looked a little shaky right after her chase with the unsub, but Spencer didn’t get a chance to ask his friend if she was alright. And, stupidly enough, he forgot to text her to check if she drank any water post-case. Quickly, Reid excused himself, grabbed a Gatorade from the fridge, and rushed to the field where your limp body trembled on the grass. 

“I’m going to pour some water on you, honey," Emily said. You flinched as the frigid water hit your hairline. 

“Breathe, relax.” Spencer said, shielding your nose. The last thing you needed was some accidental waterboarding.

Seconds after the water drenched your forehead, your whole body relaxed into the grass. “That felt good.” You smiled weakly. 

Spencer stroked your arm. “Let’s sit you up in a minute, okay? You should try some Gatorade before the EMTs get here.”

“EMTs? I’m fine.” You whined.

Spencer didn’t think it was possible for his eyebrows to crease further. 

“You’re not fine.” Gentler, he said, “and it’s okay not to be fine, sunlight.”

“But, I’m alive.” You tried to roll onto your stomach, but your bent leg kept you safe on your back.

Some on the team members chuckled, but Spencer didn’t find your delirium humorous. “I know you’re alive, sweetie. But you’re way too hot. I think you’re a little confused right now.”

“I’m just…” You winced. “I’m alive.”

The knot in Spencer’s chest tightened ten-fold. This could be heat stroke. At the very least, you had heat exhaustion. You were dehydrated. You were delirious. 

Best case scenario: you were ill for a few days. Worst case scenario: You had vital organ damage.

Just as he’s about to call 911 himself, JJ interrupted him. “Look–ambulance lights. Help is on the way, honey.”

“You hear that, (Y/N)? You’re gonna be fine.” Morgan said. If only Spencer felt that confident. 

“Spence…” You blocked your eyes from the light with your limp right hand. “I’m scared. I don’t feel well.” 

“Oh, (Y/N), I know.” He cupped your shoulder and hoped you could feel his love for you through his palm. That sent a jolt down his spine. He wasn’t supposed to comfortably think those thoughts about you.

You were sick. This wasn’t the time. He leaned over your body. He gave you plenty of breathing room, but his torso was  parallel to your hip so his eyes could meet your watering ones. “Hey, take a breath for me, Smartie.” 

Your nickname for him slipped from his tongue so easily it spooked him. Suddenly, he noticed his thumb stroking over your cotton t-shirt. He should stop. The whole team was watching. He was being was too intimate; he'd face stupid quips from Morgan for days. He kept stroking anyway.

He observed your chest rise and fall. Your breaths were shaky but deeper. He relaxed a tad. Vital oxygen was reaching your bloodstream.

“(Y/N), can we try something?” Spencer asked.

“Yes. Maybe. What is it?”

The knot in his chest loosened. You responded immediately and with more than two words; you were becoming more lucid. 

“Can you sit up and have some sips of Gatorade? I got your favorite flavor. At least, if your favorite flavor hasn’t changed from three years ago.” It most likely hadn’t. Once your opinion settled, it was frustratingly hard to erode your verdict. 

“I can’t…I don’t know.”

“I know sitting up is hard. I’ll help you. And I’ll prop you against my chest. I’ll hold your weight when you can’t.”

“KK, Spence.” Your childlike tone tugged at his heart strings.

Spencer and Morgan lifted your limp body from the ground. They manhandled you into a sitting position with your head propped on Spencer’s shoulder and your body tucked between his thighs. 

One of his arms stabilized you while the other raised a cold bottle of orange Gatorade to your lips.

After nine sips of Gatorade, you spoke again. 

“Orange.” You took another sip. "My favorite.”

He smiled into your hair. “When have I ever lied to you, (Y/N/N)?”

***

Spencer nearly created a crater in the linoleum floor of the ER waiting room with his bouncing heel by the time the doctor came back with an update. 

“She had a mild case of heat stroke. We currently have her on fluids, and she’ll need lots of rest for at least the next week.” Doctor Bahamani concluded. 

“No signs of metabolic dysfunction? Any respiratory distress?” Reid checked. 

Doctor Bahamani smiled knowingly. “She’s going to be just fine, Doctor Reid.”

“Can I see her?” Spencer asked. 

“Yes. Only two at a time, please.” 

Spencer didn’t care who volunteered with him. He moved without thinking. An outpouring of gratitude for his eidetic memory flooded him. Through the thickest brain fog, he could trust his recollection of the hospital to bring him to the correct hospital room.

The security staff practically had to drag him away from your bedside after the ambulance ride. They might have thrown him out of the ER if not for the flash of his FBI badge.

Something nagged at him as he sped past the nursing station. 

You were going to be fine. The ER doctor confirmed it. Yet his heart was still pounding and he could barely refrain from running. Even more odd, he wasn’t ashamed of his irrational behavior. 

So what if a doctor deemed you were okay? It was you. And he saw you groggier and more out of it than you'd ever been. And who knows how thorough the doctors were with their examination? It was completely reasonable to worry for one of his closest friends. 

He just couldn't believe you were alright until he checked you over with his own hands and his own eyes.

***

When you grinned at him from your cot, Spencer wasn’t sure whether to smile or cry.

Tears glazed your eyes. But, your gorgeous smile was back. 

“Spencer?” You asked, brow raised and head cocked. 

He’d been staring too long. He looked like an idiot, lamely standing in the doorway as if he were the one with heat stroke.

“Straighten your head. Your neck is probably tight.”

You smiled, but this time it was tight-lipped and painful-looking. “You’re too worried.”

He watched saline drip down your IV. “Of course I’m worried, (Y/N). You got heat stroke.” With a deep breath as a shot of courage, he sat in the chair by the head of your bed.

There was nothing odd about sitting with his best friend at the hospital. 

His chest twisted at “best friend” and his resolve collapsed. He couldn’t deny it anymore. 

He liked you. He really, really liked you. He actually might even–

“Luckily, I got out pretty unscathed.” You snapped Spencer out of his spiral. “A little dehydrated. Achy. Might feel sick for a few days.”

“Or weeks.” Spencer corrected.

“Trying to look on the bright side here, Doctor.” You smirked and Spencer swore his right ventricle tightened.

Then, your nose scrunched and Spencer's wiped clean of any concern about his cardiac health. 

“What hurts?”

“Just a little achy, Spencer. I’m alright.” 

He shot you a look. He knew all your excuses. He knew you went to self-harming lengths to not worry people. 

“You’re not alright.” He reached for the red nurse-call button. 

Your eyes widened in surprise. “Okay…my body aches, Spence. And the IV burns. But they’ve already told me that’s normal. No need to take nurses away from an emergency.”

The nurses at the station desk didn’t appear to be rushing around for anyone, but Spencer feared this wouldn’t behoove his case. 

“They can give you pain medication, if you want.”

You hesitated, and immediately Spencer pressed the button. When you smiled weakly instead of bickering, his worry grew tenfold but not without a rush of heat flooding his entire body. 

In Morgan's words, he’s down bad. 

“How are you doing, sunshine?” As if he’d been summoned, Morgan appeared in the doorway. 

Spencer stepped back from your cot. The part of him riled from Morgan’s “sunshine” moniker wants to shove his hand into yours. Spencer thought he hid his annoyance well, but something about Morgan's smirk told him otherwise.

“Um…”

Morgan’s smirk fell. “You feel that bad, huh?”

You chuckled sadly. “Do I look that shitty or am I an open book today?”

“You never look shitty,” Spencer said. A tsunami of blood rushed to his face.

“Anyway,” Morgan said, “Do you want anything, Beauty Queen? I can grab you some jello.” 

“Jello sounds nice.” You said, and something in your voice was so vulnerable and naive Spencer wanted to wrap you in his arms as tight as he could. Which was illogical. That would only hurt you further. 

He shook his head as if that would remove the thoughts from his mind. “I’m gonna see if I can check up on your labs at the nurse’s station. I’ll make sure they’re giving you the good drugs.” He smiled.

You laughed– a genuine laugh– and Spencer’s heart soared. “Thanks, Spence.”

“I’ll go grab your jello,” Morgan said.

“Hold on, you should stay with her just in case she needs anything," Spencer said.

“I’ll be fine, Spence.” You said, but Spencer was not prepared to take "no" for an answer.

“If you boys wants to run her some errands, I’ll stay.” Emily stood in the doorway. “JJ is coming soon too– she just got a phone call from a very frantic Penelope.”

Your nose crinkled. “Oh no.” You groaned, but you were smiling. 

“Oh, yes. Be prepared for some mother henning," Emily said.

“Garcia can’t be any more mother henning than Reid," Morgan said. 

Before his face could turn redder than a baboon’s bottom, Spencer fled.

He’s only two yards from the nursing station when Morgan intercepted him at the end of the hall. 

“So, you’re going to make your move, right?”

Spencer's body temperature plummeted. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He tried to shoulder past Morgan, but he was no match for his grip strength. “Reid, c’mon. You like (Y/N).”

Part of him wanted to laugh. “Like” seemed too simple of a word to describe the symphony of feelings (Y/N) started in him. “It’s…” He’s too tongue-tied to lie. “It’s complicated.”

You’re brilliant. You’re beautiful. You’re brimming with empathy. You’re everything Spencer could want. And it scared the shit out of him. Because that meant there’s even more to lose. And if he lost you, there would be no one to blame but himself. It was better for his psyche to not go there with you– to step back from the line rather than risk what would happen if he failed to make it work in the end. 

And what if you got hurt? What is you fell in the line of duty? Or worse, what if someone targeted you because of your romantic tie to him? Spencer's already experienced the pain of losing a soulmate-- a concept he wasn't even sure he believed in-- once. He wasn't not sure if he could survive it a second time.

There was too much unpredictability in his life. He chose a dangerous profession. He was gifted a ticking time-bomb of dangerous genes. He’d never forgive himself if he inflicted onto you the pain he’s been through; losing loved ones, whether through death or mental illness. 

Morgan's expression turned sympathetic. “Reid, you should give it a shot. Our lives our hectic. And if anyone deserves to be happy, it’s you.”

Spencer blinked to block tears from welling. “I just want her to be happy, too.”

“And who says you don't make her happy?”

“His idiotic genius brain.” Rossi appeared from around the corner.

Spencer froze. “You heard?” His face flushed yet again.

“Just the tail end. But Reid…” He trailed off.

Morgan took the hint. “I’m going to get (Y/N) some jello. With my charm, I could negotiate for some whipped cream.” 

“Don’t get whipped cream on it. She’s lactose sensitive,” Spencer said.

Morgan's stupid smirk reappeared. “Gotcha, Reid.”

Rossi took Morgan's place. Once Morgan was out of sight, he began his speech. “You love her. Don’t get in your own way.” Rossi put his hand on Reid’s shoulder. “And (Y/N) is an incredibly intelligent woman. Don’t insult her intelligence by thinking she can’t decide who is or is not worth taking a risk. And for what it’s worth…a man like you is worth the risk.” 

Rossi left Reid staring at his back. 

For the longest time, Reid convinced himself he refrained from asking you out to protect you from himself and his hefty baggage. And that’s not completely untrue. 

But suddenly, he realized he was primarily trying to protect himself from exposing his vulnerabilities to you this whole time. There’s never been a person whose opinion affected him like yours. There's never been a life he's wanted to protect more except perhaps...Maeve.

But just like it’s up to you to decide who’s worth the risk, it’s up to him to decide as well.

And if today taught him anything, shit happens. And if you slip through his fingers, he doesn't want it to because he wasn't brave enough to make a first move.

And being your person was more than worth the risk of rejection.

Author's Note: Thank you to so much to everyone who stuck around through my hiatus! I appreciate every single one of you! You're super cool :)

Happy to be back! Inbox is open to chat about writing and take requests! Please check pinned "Blurb Requests" post before requesting! (Will update the post as my boundaries update!)

Have an awesome day or night, wherever you are in this crazy world. I am incredibly thankful you spent part of your precious life reading something I penned.

Forever grateful,

shewroteaworld

[willows-peak]

jjk boys reacting to getting a morning wood next to you

ANONNN UR MIND <3333

*･ﾟ✧ JJK Men With Morning Wood

tags: multi character x reader, fem! reader, morning sex, thigh fucking, humping, handjobs, male masturbation, mutual masturbation kinda, the ittiest bit of degradation in toji's

word count: 4.9k wowie zowie

a/n: eek my first request...so happy. this was so fun to write ty anon, im supes sorry it took so long to write! i may have gotten carried away,, also TYSM FOR 100 FOLLOWERS HOLY SHIT 🎉🎉🎉🎉should i do a milestone reward :o

NSFW UNDER CUT! MDNI

⋆｡˚ ♡ gojo: wakes you up and begs to fuck your thighs

Gojo woke with a startle, his body only lending him a few moments to adjust to his surroundings before he had to stifle a low groan into his palm, a dull, overpowering throb sending shocks of pleasure up his spine. He blearily glanced downwards to where he felt the heat starting to pool, his vision being blocked off by your body, pressed tight against his.

You were moving around in your sleep quite a bit, leg thrown across his own and arms wrapped tight around his chest. A quiet noise left his throat as he felt that jolt go through his body again, your hips moving up against his crotch just enough to graze across the head of his clothed cock, making him swear under his breath.

He'd found the culprit for his sudden awakening, but now comes the issue of taking care of it. The combination of sleepiness and horniness was making his head feel foggy, eyes darting around the softly lit room for any kind of distraction he could find for himself. Now he knew why you always made a fuss when he clung to you in bed, it was near impossible to move around and touch himself without waking you.

He bit his lip tightly as he felt his cock jump up in his boxers, eyes drifting back to your body innocently leaning onto his. The time on the clock read '10:20 am', much past the normal time you would wake up normally. You wouldnt be *too* upset if he just..?

"Baby.." he whispered, the arm encompassing your waist shifting forwards to jostle your still body, making you whine against his chest and hug him closer in defiance. "C'mon baby, get up." he said, moving you again and giving him a louder whine in response.

Through his persistence, your head turned up and poking out from the bumps of his naked chest, eyelids lowered as you slowly started to wake up

“G'morning beautiful, sorry to wake you up like this” he chuckled, brushing a small section of hair from your face as he watched your eyes travel downwards, to how his erection poked against your inner thigh. “You don't gotta do anything, just please-” Gojo shuddered as you slowly grinded up against his tent, your soft voice making the fog in his head worsen. 

“Lemme fuck your thighs, alright baby? Please, it'll be quick, I promise” his chest rose up and down in quick, shallow breaths, stilling himself with all his might when the head of his dick slipped snuggly into the dip of your thighs, right underneath your panty clad pussy. “Please, sweet thing? I'll make you cum too, promise” he ran his hands down to your hip, pressing his lips together when you let out the softest moan.

Still too sleepy for talking, you nodded into his collarbones, spreading your legs apart enough for Gojo to slip inside them. Gojo almost moaned at the display in front of him, hushed praises and thanks coming from his lips as he hurriedly slipped down his pants and boxers, sighing in relief when the uncomfortable pressure of his underwear was finally gone.

Gojo's hand made quick work slipping his pants down to mid way down his thighs, moving his fingers to lightly press against the crotch of your panties. “Shit…” he whispered, feeling the way your pussy was already starting to wetten up for him. “Have a good dream about me, huh?” he teased, rubbing slow circles on your clit before replacing it with his length.

He could feel you clench around nothing through the thin fabric, a shudder erupting through his lower half as you slowly closed your legs back around his cock. He groaned under his breath at the warmth enveloping him, chuckling and pulling his hips back. “Shit, you feel good… where’s the lube, wanna make it feel better” he mumbled as he turned his body around to search through the drawers behind him, rummaging around loudly until he triumphantly brought out a small, almost empty bottle of clear liquid.

“Spread your legs again, this’ll make it feel good.” he spoke, a small *click* as he flipped the bottle open and squirted the liquid onto his deft fingers. As he massaged it into the plush of your thigh, his thumb caught underneath your panties, pulling the fabric to the side smoothly. His lubed fingers came to spread your lips open, the cold morning air blowing across your sensitive cunt and making you shiver from the exposure. ‘Satoruu..” you whined, feeling his cock slide up your thigh to rest right against your pussy.

“Close em, fuck, I don’ think I can stay still for long” he whispered, his large body coming to hold your lower half flush with his own. You whimpered and wordlessly followed what he asked, moaning softly at the feeling of his firm cock grazing *so* slowly across your pussy.

“That’s the shit, god.. such a good girl for me” Gojo whispered, his voice sultry and practically dripping with heat as he grinded up into your thighs, his dick gliding across the wetness of your pussy and perfectly rubbing against your clit. “Hold onto me baby, I’m not gonna be gentle.”

⋆｡˚ ♡ getou: kisses you awake and humps your leg

Getou carefully turned himself around, keeping note of your tight grip against his sides and letting himself relax back against the warm sheets as he shifted himself closer to you, his fingers coming to cradle your soft hair as his lips met with your face.

Ever since getting with you, Getou had gradually lost interest in getting himself off, especially in the mornings like this. he could feel the way his half hard erection slowly filled out his pants more as he drunk you in, his lips taking their time to press against each and every crevice of your face.

He could feel you start to stir, your soft eyelashes slowly cracking open to meet with his gaze, lowered with his pupils expanded to cover the majority of his eyes.

He pulled away just enough to give you room to yawn, his hand sliding down the front of his body to grope at his cock as you greeted him, voice crackly and quiet. "Good morning hun" Getou spoke, his voice gruff right against your ear as he resumed his onslaught of kisses.

"Mm-" you tried to get out a word of questioning as to why he was so affectionate, but your lips quickly turned into a home for Getou's, tenderly kissing you. You could feel low, muffled groans being thrust into your mouth as he lifted your face up to meet with his better. “Sugu-” you gasped, pulling away only to be hungrily brought back to his lips.

“Shh, stick out your leg f’ me, baby” Getou ordered, smiling when you wordlessly obeyed him. You gasped again as your knee brushed over his bulge, Getou’s free hand coming down to hold it still. “Feel that pretty girl?” he asked, watching you nod and try to press harder against him. “Think you can help out with this?” he offered, biting his lip in arousal at how quickly you agreed with his request.

His grip on your thigh loosened, just enough to give you the wiggle room to grind down into his erection. His raspy, deep voice filled your ears as he ground his hips down into your hard knee, hand climbing up to grope at your butt and snickering when you squeaked in surprise.

“So nasty..” you murmured, watching with bated breath as he caressed the back of your thigh tenderly. “Only for you, sweet girl… fuck, keep doin that-” he grunted out, your knee pressing up against his balls slightly as he humped against you.

He’d slipped up to grinding against the meat of your thigh by now, whispers of your name escaping from his lips as a small, barely noticeable spot of wetness started to seep through the fabric of his sweatpants. “Sugu, kiss me again, please” you begged, barely needing to wait before geto’s lips came crashing onto yours. His thick, hot tongue eagerly pressed through your parted lips, grinning into the kiss as his tongue twirled around yours.

Your body quickly flushed warmly under his strong hold, feeling how pulsed and ground hard against your thigh, your breath catching in your throat when his tongue dipped up to the roof of your mouth, licking along the length of it before pulling away for a gasp of air. “So fucking sexy, baby girl, god- say my name baby please” Getou moaned, the grinds against your thighs speeding up sloppily. Getou could never control himself when he got like this, so desperate for an orgasm he’d take anything you gave him as long as it got him off.

“Suguruuu-” you drew out your words, half moaning and half whining as he raised your leg to grind back down into your knee. “Yeah, that’s right, say it louder f’ me” Getou purred, panting as his hips thrusted down onto your leg. You spoke his name again, feeling your pussy thump in tandem with your heart at Getou’s husky moans filling the thick air around you two. “Wanna see me cum, beautiful?” he asked, voice lifting as his body grew closer to orgasm already. “Mmmhm, please Sugu lemme see” 

Getou fumbled with the band of his sweatpants clumsily, pulling them down to reveal his flushed red cock, the stain of pre cum much bigger now against the dark gray cotton fabric. You squirmed as Getou slid his lubed cock onto your bare thigh, rubbing down against the warm, soft skin and shivering softly. “Keep your eyes here, got it?” He whispered, forehead pressed against yours as the two of you watched his hips quickly pick up pace against your leg, raunchy sounding groans and chants of your name falling from his lips carelessly.

“Shit- y’ so good to me baby, so fucking good” Getou stumbled out, hair falling around the two of you as his head bowed down in pleasure. “Touch it honey, please, wanna cum for you” You gasped in arousal, warmth pooling down in your stomach as you quickly stroked the base of his dick, letting your fingers caress down onto his balls when your palm reached the bottom. 

“*F-fuck* yes, cumming, I’m cumming, oh my *god*-” Getou groaned loudly, body trembling and curling into itself as his cock throbbed harshly against your thigh, cum leaking out of his tip and coating the skin of your leg and your hand. You slowed your hand down as Getou rode out his orgasm onto you, uneven bucks and thrusts up against you making you whimper under your breath from how hot you felt.

Getou continued to let out broken noises as his orgasm slowly simmered down, weakly grinding down into the puddle of cum he’d made. He let out fast, shuddered breaths as he rested against you, rubbing your thigh and kissing your forehead gently. Getou used his free hand to cup your chin, lifting it up to meet with his foggy, pleasure hazed eyes. “Don’t worry honey…I’m not done yet” Getou purred, gaze falling down to the way your thighs squeeze together.

⋆｡˚ ♡ nanami: jerks himself off to not disturb your beauty sleep

Nanami let out a drawn out sigh as he snuck his hand downwards, carefully scooting the blankets aside for his hand to get under them. He was hard, and badly at that. And while he didn’t at all blame you for this, he’d noticed that he’s started getting more intense morning wood when you’re with him, leading to him having to carefully wrap his hand around his erection and get himself off without waking you up.

He also, never seemed to realize he could simply turn over and plop you down on the empty bed space next to him until after he was done, discreetly wiping himself off and nudging you awake. He has to pretend he doesn’t know why it slips his mind, even though he knows good and well why he chooses this riskier route. 

Some gross, locked away part of him loves thinking about waking you up by feeling his thick cock pressed against your hole through your panties, his hand quickly stroking himself through orgasm as you moaned at the wet feeling of his cum soaking you. Knowing you, he’d be met with the sweetest moan of his name as the after shocks of his orgasm faded over his body, pressing your hips down against his abdomen.

He held back a noise at that thought, his fingers finally ghosting over his pre cum soaked tip, rubbing small circles across the hole of it before working his way down his shaft. He focused on keeping his breathing steady as you dozed off on his chest.

Staring at the ceiling above him as he bit his lip with concentration. You were, thankfully, not a light sleeper, but he’d rather avoid the embarrassing notion of you waking up to him like *this*.

Nanami had done this many many times before, so he knew exactly what to think of to get himself off quick. Not that it ever took long with you, he could count the amount of times he’d nearly cum on the spot when you shimmied your panties off, a string of wetness clinging to your sensitive, pulsating cunt, your swollen clit peeking between the pink-ish folds. The few times when he’d come home tired and ready to either crash into your arms or the bed, when you’d so lovingly take care of him by riding the soul out of his body.

God, he wanted that so badly right now, watching your ass ripple from how hard you were slamming down onto his cock, moaning his name as he felt your hole twitch around him, the unmistakable way you’d quiver and still yourself as you came around his cock, whimpering and squeaking out high pitched little noises as he fucked up into you through your orgasm. 

*‘Later’* Nanami promised to himself, feeling his chest begin to rise and fall rapidly as his hand pumped his cock, holding back sighs and grunts of pleasure as his arm stood as still as possible, his wrist rapidly falling up and down as he fisted his cock.

His hands rapidly squeezed along his thick shaft, desperate to mimic the way your pussy would clamp down so tightly when he bottomed out inside of you.

He was quick to move his hand off your waist, and over his mouth as he nearly moaned out loud at the thought, silently cursing his memory for being so detailed in this moment. He froze stiffly as he felt you start to stir in your sleep, sleepily reaching out before he joined his hand with yours. He sighed shakily, speaking lowly to not wake you further, his hand still grazing across the sensitive veins alongside his cock. “Shh, go back to sleep dear, I’m here.” He could almost laugh at how easily you fell limp back against him, your breathing slowing back down and a one off snore leaving your throat.

He gently held onto your hand, the fist still around his cock now picking up speed, wet sounds being poorly muffled through the blanket as he leaned his head back against the pillows. The adrenaline from just now only fueled onto his racing heart and sensitivity, hand clamping down onto yours as he could start to feel his orgasm quickly approaching him. 

His teeth grit together subtly, holding back swears as his legs tensed up, his fist slapping loudly down against his dick as his stomach tightened. “Shit-” he swore, his orgasm overtaking him before he could prepare for it. His fist rushed up to close down over his dick, covering his tip as it leaked out thick spurts of his cum. He held his breath in his throat as he trembled, pressure mixing wildly with the fading anxiety of being caught and the pleasure of his hand pushing down across his girth.

He let out a deep sigh as fresh air filled his lungs, his heartbeat loud and clear in his ears while his cock started to soften. He breathed out in relief, glancing downwards at your peaceful figure, none the wiser at what he’d done.

Now, to clean this up before you stirred again..

⋆｡˚ ♡ toji: tries to will it away bc he doesnt feel like taking care of it, doesnt work. u wake up and take care of it for him

Toji grunted under his breath at yet another twitch of his erection, rubbing almost painfully against the starch material of his boxers. He'd been laying like this for a while now, achingly hard with you happily snoozing on his chest, unaware of the predicament he was in.

The rational decision to make here would be to wake you up, or even reach into his pants and get himself off, but it was a *little* hard to do that when one shuffle of his leg got him a whine of complaint and you shimmying back up on his body, getting yourself comfy again before falling back asleep.

And since Toji was *such* a gentleman, how could he disturb your beauty sleep and get himself off?

"Fuckin' hell..." Toji spoke softly, the pressure of your warm body laying on top of him, giving his dick the barest hint of stimulation driving him mad, slowly but surely. There was always the idea of grinding his hips up and jerking himself off with the plush of your thighs, but he knew that'd only result in you grumpily waking up from his cum coating you, glaring at him with those sweet eyes of yours, wiggling your pretty hips over his softening cock, and drowsily cursing him out for wasting his load on your leg like that-

A sharp pulse through his dick ceased his thoughts, making him loudly groan into the morning air. He heard you make a small squeak at the sudden sound, looking down and smirking. “Mornin’ princess” he greeted, his low voice carrying through the quiet air, much to your displeasure. “Y'ur hard…” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes and leaning your hips back to cradle over his tent. 

Toji grunted at the feeling of you lazily grinding down against him, laughing and placing his hands behind his head. “Yeah, I am. Whatcha wanna do about it?” his lips cracked open into a toothy grin, watching the way you sleepily glowered up at him, raising yourself up by the arms and pushing yourself backwards on his lap.

You stifled a yawn into your arm, your ass colliding with Toji’s sturdy abs and making you lose your balance for a small second, your eyes shooting open on instinct. “Careful, now” Toji replied, ever the helpful one as he looked you up and down decidedly. Despite your attitude in the mornings, Toji loved when you got like this, moody, sulking from being awake 'so early' as you'd put it, but not ever hesitating to make him cum all over your pretty fingers.

“You couldn't do it y'self?” you asked accusingly, now seated right below Toji's bulge, your smaller hand pressing down against his length. “Nah, you do it better” Toji said snarkily, watching your eyes roll as you slipped down his sweatpants. For as annoyed as you always looked when he woke you up with his hard on, your eyes almost glittered from how wide they'd get, staring at his thick cock poking out from the band of his underwear. 

“Go on mamas, it won't bite.” He teased, groaning under his breath at your hands quickly pulling the last piece of clothing off him, your fingers pinching over his tip to lube his cock with his pre cum. “Dirty girl..” he commented, his voice much too confident for your liking. “Zip it.” you glared up at him, watching him run his pointer and thumb across his mouth in a zipper motion, the silence immediately being broken when you squeezed your hand around the base of his cock.

With a kiss of your teeth, you quickly began jerking him off, your hand twisting up near the tip before slamming back down at the base, making him let out a pleased moan. He knew you loved when he got vocal, so he made sure to put a little more effort into telling you how good you were doing for him. His sugar sweet girl, so cute even when she was being so slutty like this, manicured nails struggling to meet as they stretched over the girth of his fat dick. Your cheeks flushed as you continued, trying to subtly wiggle your hips as his words sent jolts of arousal straight to your cunt.

“Don’t stop, baby, fuck-” Toji let out, head tilting to the side as he never took his eyes off of you. “You better make this up t’ me, Toji” You murmured, cheeks feeling hot at his heavy gaze, making you feel surrounded by him even as you laid across his flexed thighs. “Oh yeah? You want me to fuck you with my fingers after you make me cum? Make that pretty pussy squirt?” You barely stifled a whine at his brash words, Toji laughing under his breath when he felt the way you tried to grind down against him.

“Yeah, that’s what my girl wants. Fuck, c’mon and make daddy cum, lemme get my hands on you.” Toji groaned, chest rising up and down as you added your other hand to stroke him. He swore at the sight, his brain fogging with arousal at how even your two hands struggled to handle his dick. Toji’s mouth struggled to stay closed as he could practically *feel* how desperate you were now through the way your hands moved, milking his dick effortlessly and making the coil in his stomach tighten fast.

“Fuck- open your mouth baby, yeah that’s it, *shit*-” Toji’s arms came down to grip at your hair, holding your head still as your tongue lolled out of your mouth, drool beginning to run down the tip of it as he came on your face. You watched through your lashes at how his eyes rolled back, hand covering his face as he groaned lowly, warm cum coming out quickly and covering your lips. 

Your hands came to a stop when Toji’s iron grip on your hair loosened, his body falling back against the bed as you swallowed what had gotten in your mouth. You made a small sound of annoyance as your hand was now covered in Toji’s cum, your thumb rubbing against your plush lip and gathering a stray drop of cum from them. Glancing back down at your boyfriend, you could see him facing you yet again, a grin making its way back onto his face.

You yelped loudly as you felt your body get dragged up Toji’s body, hovering over his stomach with your legs spread open widely. “Whatcha doing with your panties still on? C’mon baby, show me what I wanna see.” Toji purred, licking his lips when you shyly brushed the crotch of your underwear to the side. “*That’s* right…”

⋆｡˚ ♡ choso: wakes up and asks if he can fuck you

soft clicking across a keyboard filled choso's ears as his brain slowly came into conscious, a vision of you seated on your side of the bed, leaning back comfortably against the pillows as you typed away at your laptop. choso let out a shocked sound as he tried to scoot closer to you, his pajamas unreasonably tight around his crotch and making his body shiver with sensitivity.

You paused your writing at the noise, shutting it and turning your head over to him. "Good morning cho" You smiled down at him, the morning glow of the sun casting highlights across your chest and collarbones, the loose fitting night gown you sported hiding nothing from Choso's rapidly growing imagination. He felt his leg twitch up at another jerk up against the cotton of his pants, a quiet gasp getting pushed from his lips in surprise.

Your laptop had been placed on the floor by the bed at this point, your body turned over to face Choso while your fingers went to caress his flushed cheeks. “‘M hard” he croaks out softly, making you giggle and nod “I can tell, baby.” he pushes himself up with his forearm slowly, moaning under his breath when his dick grazed against his thigh. “Need you, c’mere, please” he rasped out, tossing the blanket off of him and watching how your eyes dropped down to his tent. 

Your body quickly came to lay back down next to his, lifting your nightgown up to reveal your bare body underneath. Choso moaned shamelessly at how you looked, running his hands across your soft stomach all the way down to the small slit hidden between your thighs. “Thank you, thank you, gonna make you feel good, promise-” he purred out, leaning down to kiss you as his thick fingers quickly made their way to pulling down his pants. 

“So needy, aren't you baby?” you teased lightly, watching excitedly as Choso’s hard cock bounced out of his boxers, slapping the dip of his abs with a quiet ‘pwip’ sound. He nodded along breathlessly, hands gripping the fabric of his underwear tightly as you spread your legs, grinding your bare pussy down against his shaft. You shuddered when you felt it twitch up against you, Choso poorly hiding a whine into his hand as he grabbed your hips, pressing his lips together and pulling his underwear down to his knees.

Your nightgown, previously bunched up midway up your tummy, was now being pulled off leisurely by you, Choso quickly coming to cup his hand underneath your chest. “Yes yes, thank you, won’t take long I promise- *ohh god*” he spoke, voice unsteady and breathy as he prodded his tip against your hole, eyes threatening to roll up when he felt how easily you sucked him in. 

You moved your hips down to meet with his cautious thrusts up, tightening around him as he slowly, so slowly inched his way inside of you. “Haahh- so tight” Choso vocalized, looking up into your eyes as he started to bottom out inside you. Choso had been made aware he was *much* bigger than average, so he’s always been extra careful when sheathing inside of you, mind being driven into filth at the way your pussy would so eagerly swallow him up, hole stretched wide over the base of his dick, your wetness seeping out and coating the front of his balls. 

“Need this so badly, need you” Choso chanted, your name feeling like pure sugar on his tongue as he moaned it. The way you felt, stretched taught all the way down to the bottom of his dick, wet and hot and tight as he reeled his hips back, sighing out so softly as he kissed along your neck made his body feel tingly with pleasure. 

To Choso’s credit, he was honest when he said he wouldn’t take long. With a simple plea in his ear, and a clench down around him, he was wordlessly rutting up into you, his thumb coming down to rub quick circles across your swollen clit. Breathless little ‘ah- ah- ah’s’ spilled from his lips into your shoulder as your leg hooked around his waist, hugging him close as he sloppily fucked into you.

“Sorry, ‘m already, *ah* already close, can I? Inside?” Choso asked, his words broken and strained as his hips effortlessly rammed up into your pussy, filling it out so perfectly that it was impossible not to dumbly nod along with anything Choso asked for. His eyes sparkled as they started to get misty, teeth clenching together while his hands held your hips still, abs tightening as his body chased after his orgasm that was rapidly approaching.

“Gonna cum, gonna cum, go-” Choso’s begs were cut off by your lips crashing down into his, his moans being drank down by you as he came instantly, shaking in your grasp as he thrusted up deeply into your pussy. The thumb on your clit never stopped as he came, stroking it alongside the bottom of the nub and whining at how it made you tighten down around him. “S-so *good*, can’ stop, plea-se” Choso cried into you, his arms stiffening into a tight grip that left no room to squirm or move away from him.

You whimpered and squeaked at Choso’s uneven, rapid thrusts up into you, his tip threatening to kiss your cervix as he sloppily rode out his orgasm inside you. You could feel the way his full balls emptied out as he grinded his hips down inside you, low groans vibrating against the skin of your neck and making you shiver when they reached your ear. You needily bucked up into him as his fingers pressed down onto your clit, eyelids lowering as your own orgasm was starting to form, just barely. Though, the feeling of tension left as soon as it came, Choso stopping his movements when he was done emptying his load inside of you

You made a noise of discontent as Choso’s thumb moved away from your pussy, clenching down weakly as he pulled out his softening cock from inside you. “Cho…I was gonna cum” You moaned, grunting as he flipped you onto your back. “I know..lemme use my mouth, please?” Choso uttered gently, his body crouched between your spread legs, with his eyes wide and hopeful staring up at you. You resisted the urge to smile as you nodded, shivering at how fast he dipped his head down between your legs

[allfearstofallto]

Make Me Your God, I Can Give You Everything

Yandere! Scaramouche x Broken! Reader

Part of {Mai Playlist}

“Do you love me?”

“Yes, my lord Scaramouche,”

“How much?”

“More than anything, my lord Scaramouche,”

“Would you kill for me?”

“Happily, my lord Scaramouche,”

“Would you die for me?”

“If it would please you, my lord Scaramouche,”

Like a broken record repeating the same phrase over and over, you spoke your words with little emotion, hardly even a change in cadence. You looked at him, but your eyes had lost that familiar glimmer, that light that he'd come to rather enjoy, even if it was annoying. That light was perseverance, it was hope, it was your drive and will, but now it was gone and you often just looked more like a doll than he did.

“What’s something that would bring you joy?” He asked. Typically, he wasn't one to spoil you, but the last few weeks of you just being so docile and…empty. It had him worried. He wanted that spark back, that light in your eyes. He wanted you back.

“You, my lord Scaramouche,”

“No,” he spat back angrily, “What will really bring you joy? What will make you happy?”

“Anything you offer me is a gift enough, my lord Scaramouche,”

Annoyance caused him to stand swiftly from his chair and march over to where you sat, still as a board and posture straight, just like he'd drilled into you many times before. When he raised his hand to strike you, you didn't even flinch, making him lower it in surrender. You were still as beautiful as the day he got you, still as soft and your voice still as sweet. But you were hollow. Had he truly broken you down so?

He slumped back in his seat and sighed out longingly and you still barely moved. He made a motion with his hand for you to come closer and without a word, you did, “Sit. Join me,” he ordered. Promptly, you sat on his lap, the weight of your body comforting him. You were still in there, somewhere.

“I didn't want this,” he mumbled, his face pressed into you back, arms wrapped around your waist.

“You didn't wish for me to sit here?” You questioned, preparing to stand, but he pulled you back down with little resistance.

“No. I didn't want you to end up like this,” he squeezed your waist a bit tighter, making you let out a shallow breath, “Why couldn't you just love me as you were before. Why did it have to come to this?”

“I do love you, my lord,”

He pushed you from his lap and you crumbled to the floor, still, with little resistance. You didn't look scared or shocked, you didn't even look hurt from the way you'd fallen. Just there. He remembers the last time he'd done something similar to you. You spat at his feet in defiance. Mentally, he cringed at how hard he'd punished you that day. One of the many days of punishment that led to you becoming what you are now. Empty.

“I'm…I'm sorry,” he struggled to get the words out. Eyeing your face he saw something different, the slight raise of your eyebrows, before they fell again. But it was something. It was you, even for just a second, “Is that what you want? An apology?”

He kneeled before you and took one of your feet into his hands, his cold hands traced the soft skin of it. Scaramouche hadn't taken a knee for anyone in years. No one except his creator and the Tsaritsa herself. Both archons, but he put you on a similar pedestal. A kiss was pressed right against the toe of your foot and he felt your body jolt.

“Come back to me,” he pressed another kiss to your foot, “You'll be worshiped, not broken again.”

[yoongis-black-grilfriend]

Mothers Night Out

Warnings: SMUT, oral, lactation, toxic! rafe, car sex, penetrative sex, and breeding.

Ring Ring Ring

The sound comes blaring as you're face down in your pillow, head pounding a mile a minute. The ringtone continues to jingle you answer and put the phone to your ear.

“Hell-” You try to answer before the voice on the other line starts, “Why the hell am I over here watching our children while you're running around as if you don’t have any responsibilities in life?” The voice quickly cut in as you rolled your eyes.

“Rafe, it was one night out, what are you on about-” You were cut off again, the man on the other line not wanting to hear that. “NO, you told me that you were going to hang out with friends; NOT those fucking pogues and you know that”.

“Those pogues are my friends.” You start to say before he cuts you off, in his frustration.

“I don’t care. Get ready” he snapped. Before you could say anything else, the dial tone reached your ears as you sat up in the bed you were lying in, which happened to be John B's.

Ever since you became a mother you were dedicated to taking care of your children trying to be the best mother you could be for your little girls. You sacrificed everything for them, including your well-being. Your friends thought it would be a good idea to hang out last night since you have yet to have the time to genuinely hang out just as a group. Last night was fun. You all piled in John B’s living room playing drinking games and catching up on everything social that you might have missed.

“How are you doing in here sleepy head?” JJ leaned up against the door with a smile. “My head is killing me” You respond, messaging your head. “Well sorry to break it to you but your baby daddy is outside, so your hell awaits you”

“Ha ha, you are so funny.”

Gathering your things you throw a pillow at his head which he dodges with a smirk. “Kiss the girls for me!” He yells behind you as you make your way towards John B's door. “Will do!”

Wanting to say goodbye to everyone else you were met with disappointment as they were all still asleep. Walking out the door you are met with the father of your children leaning against a black truck with your door already opened.

Climbing into the truck, you close the door with Rafe following behind you. Looking behind you, you expect to see your baby girls in the back but you just met with their car seats. Looking to Rafe you ask. “Where are Whisper and Clover?” Looking at you he shakes his head.

“They're with Rose since you want to act like they don't exist.” “Rafe please don’t do this for the past six months I have been held up in the house” you breathe in, tears threatening to fall. “Taking care of our girls day in and day out so please don't act like me hanging out with my friends for one night makes me a terrible mother”

Regret flickers across his face as he reaches across the armrest and he takes your face in his hands, expression softening. “I didn't know you felt this lovely, I’m sorry I treated you that way. I was just upset because I thought you didn't want to spend any time with me.”

Moving his hands under your skirt to your thighs you gasp as his fingers barely graze your skin. His touch sends shivers down your spine and Rafe notices this with a smirk on his face. “Have I been neglecting you, baby?” He teases.

Pulling your legs apart, his tongue runs along your inner thighs while your breath starts to get shallow, sending a jolt of electricity through you. “Please Rafe” You gasp as he continues sticking his tongue out it quickly dips into your folds, your head hitting the car window. His tongue moves at a regular pace while you feel your skin getting inflamed with the pleasure that you are receiving from your core.

Moving his head from side to side he groans as he pulls your hips impossibly closer to his face. “C'mon baby give it all to me.” “Ohhh fuck.” you groan, your body trembling with desire, as he pulls his head closer in between your legs your stomach starts to form a knot.

“Please- please don't stop” you begged, Rafe moaning into your pussy as you started to shake with your heels digging into his back. “I’m cumming, fuck!’ Crying out your back is arched as your white spot starts to blur your vision. Waves of pleasure begin to wash over you through your climax.

“Get in my lap lovely” Rafe murmurs. Blinded by the orgasm you just had you let him guide you into his lap, with his pants unzipped and his length hard as you feel it nudge your walls as you place your hand on your shoulders.

Bending his head he latches his mouth to your nipple gripping your hips as the sweet taste of your nectar fills his mouth greedily taking it in as he moves his cock inside of you as you slowly move back and forth on his lap.

Detaching his lips he attaches his mouth to yours and as you inhale the slight sweet taste of your milk you take his tongue in your mouth. His hips match your rhythm with the car moving side to side due to the impact of Rafe's thrust, each one bringing us closer to the edge.

“You are perfectly lovely please make me cum, inside of you let me give you another baby please!” he begs, tightening his hold on your hips. “Give me another daddy cum deep inside of me!” Gasping for breath, you wrap your arms around his neck burying your head in his shoulder. your orgasm splashing between the two of you, as Rafe’s cum fills you up.

With your mind in its dizzy state, Rafe guides you back to your seat buckling your seatbelt and finally pulling out of the chateau.

*Ding* The notification sound draws you to your phone and your face turns red with the message you read as Rafe busts out with laughter after reading the message on your phone.

JJ🦾:”I hope you know WE all saw that…“

[dollgxtz]

His Watchful Eye Pt. 3

Word Count: 9k

Tags: yandere!sylus, sylus x fem!reader, noncon, dubcon, drugging, kidnapping, obedience training, mentions of suicide, forced breeding, forced pregnancy, stalking, pet names like kitten, sweetie, pretty, ownership, manipulation

Taglist: @ngh-ch-choso-ahhhh, @eliasxchocolate, @nozomiaj, @xmiisuki, @sylus-kitten, @its-regretti , @m0onlustre , @ve1vet-cake @letgobro @starkeysslvt, @yarafic, @prince-nikko, @leialmela

AN: It seems like these chapters just get longer and longer xDD. Hope yall don't mind! This is also on my A03 if you feel its too long to read on tumblr. Please heed the warnings and don't read this if you're sensitive to the subjects. Also! Reader has no specific skin tone, I just use images I think represent the chapter well, you can imagine her however you want! If you want to be added to the taglist please let me know, also please make sure your tumblr settings allow you to be tagged! <3

"I hate you," you whisper, your voice barely audible, muffled by his chest. The words come out broken, hollow, lacking the fire they once carried. But it’s all you can manage, the last flicker of resistance in a sea of overwhelming fatigue. "I know," Sylus replies, his voice soft and almost indulgent, as though your hatred is just another part of the game to him. He holds you tighter, his hand continuing to caress your hair. "But it doesn’t matter, sweetie. You’re mine now. Hate me all you want, I’ll still take care of you."

Read Pt 1, Pt 2, Pt 4

You ease yourself into the bath, the water just a touch hotter than you'd like, enveloping your skin in a near-burning sensation. It’s almost too much, the heat prickling at your body, but you stay still, letting the warmth slowly settle around you. Steam rises in soft, curling tendrils, and you can feel the tension in your muscles begin to release, even as the heat clings to you, almost suffocating in its intensity. Your breath catches for a moment, but soon you adjust, your body reluctantly surrendering to the soothing, yet overwhelming, embrace of the water.

Despite the searing heat, you slowly begin to lose yourself in thought. When was the last time you'd allowed yourself to truly relax since this whole nightmare began? As much as you hated to admit it, the water felt good—comforting even—offering a fleeting sense of escape. For once, your worries seemed to dissolve into the bathwater, sinking like stones to the bottom. No thoughts of impending doom, no fear lurking at the edges of your mind. Just you, the gentle bubbles, and the soft, soothing scent of cherry shampoo drifting in the steam.

And no Sylus.

Your face twists into a scowl at the very thought of him. No. This was supposed to be your time, a moment for yourself. You can’t let him invade this too. Don’t think about him, you urge yourself. Focus on the bath. Focus on the warmth. Desperate to banish any trace of him from your mind, you sink lower into the water, leaving only your nose and eyes above the surface, your breath shallow as you try to disappear beneath the heat.

But it doesn’t work. His presence lingers in your thoughts like a shadow you can't shake—the memory of his touch, his voice, the sickly sweet promises he’d whisper after those twisted "sessions."

Before you can stop yourself, you plunge fully beneath the water, submerging yourself entirely, as if you could drown his memory along with your thoughts—perhaps even drown yourself if that’s what it takes to make it all stop.

The deafening roar of water fills your ears, muffling the world around you. Instinct keeps your breath held tight, but a dark thought persisted—what would happen if you really… let go? Sylus has made it clear he has no intention of releasing you. Maybe this, right here, is your only way out.

A tightness coils in your chest as your body begins its primal fight for air. The burning need to breathe claws at your lungs, but there’s no panic—just a calm, almost eerie resolve. Slowly, deliberately, you part your lips, ready to let the water rush in. This is it. Your escape. The only freedom Sylus can't take from you.

Death.

You wonder what kind of face he would make when he would discover your barely warm body bobbing in the bath water, having escaped the clutches of his captivity in a way he could not undo.

You wished you'd be around to see it.

Just as the warm sensation of water touches the back of your throat, a sharp tingling prickles across your scalp. A second later, you're violently yanked from the water, gasping for air as the bathroom floods back into focus. You blink wildly, clearing the stinging bathwater from your eyes, only to be met by a familiar face.

"Why willingly subject yourself to waterboarding?" Sylus asks, his tone laced with disappointment, as if you’ve failed some unspoken test. You glare at him angrily, grabbing at the grip he has on your hair.

"Don't tell me I'll have to supervise your baths too?"

"Let go!" you shout, clawing at his fingers, desperately trying to free your hair from his grip. To your surprise, he does, and you quickly retreat to the far edge of the tub, pressing your back against the cool porcelain. Water clings to your skin, dripping down your face as you try to steady your breath. His eyes roam over you, calculating, as if taking in every detail. Suddenly self conscious of your naked figure, you hug your arms around your breasts. You notice, for the first time, the shopping bags dangling from his other hand. He sets them down with unnerving care before casually crossing the bathroom to grab a stool.

You watch warily as he pulls it up beside the tub, seating himself directly across from you, his eyes never leaving your face.

"I wasn’t trying to kill myself," you snap, your voice sharp as you avoid his gaze. "I’d rather not give you more reasons to watch me."

Sylus chuckles softly, clearly unfazed by your defiance, as if your words barely register. Without another glance at you, he begins rummaging through the bags at his feet, his movements methodical and unhurried. After a moment, he pulls out a small white box, and you narrow your eyes, watching as he carefully peels away the packaging. Something small and silver tumbles into his palm, catching the light.

"Nail clippers?" you ask, disbelief creeping into your voice.

He nods, then casually tugs down the collar of his shirt, revealing the jagged red scratches you had raked across his skin during the last time he had forced himself on you. The sight of them makes you smirk—small, uneven lines, but they’re there, vivid reminders that you hadn’t gone down without a fight. You can almost feel your nails digging into him again, that brief moment of satisfaction before he'd pinned you, your resistance crushed beneath his weight.

"The first step in taming an angry kitten," he muses with a grin, "is taking her claws." His voice is disturbingly light, almost playful, as he reaches out toward you.

You hesitate, staring at his outstretched hand. Your instincts scream at you to pull away, but what choice do you have? Reluctantly, you slip your hand into his, your fingers trembling ever so slightly as he curls his hand around yours. His grip is firm but not harsh, his skin warm against your own, the casual dominance in his touch making your stomach churn. He watches you closely, his gaze never wavering, as if daring you to resist.

"Isn't that called declawing?" you mutter bitterly, trying to keep your voice steady as you avert your eyes. You watch instead as he presses the clippers to your nails, the metal cool against your fingertips. The soft snip of each nail being cut echoes in the quiet bathroom, a steady, unnerving rhythm.

Sylus smirks, tilting his head as he replies, "Oh?" His tone is amused, almost mocking. "Would you rather I pull them out instead?" His voice remains calm, and you're unsure if he's joking or not.

You swallow hard, feeling the weight of his words settle over you. Each clip of the clippers feels more invasive than the last, stripping away not just your nails, but a part of yourself—your small weapon of defiance.

It struck you as odd. Just yesterday, the two of you had been locked in a bitter struggle on his bed—panting, groaning, bodies slick with sweat, fighting for entirely different goals. For him, dominance. For you, escape. And now here he was, calmly and methodically clipping your nails, the act almost tender, as if you were lovers sharing an intimate moment.

Neither of you speaks until he finishes. Sylus turns your hands over slowly, inspecting his work with the same detached precision, ensuring he’s clipped them short enough. Finally satisfied, he releases your hand, letting the clippers fall from his grasp with a metallic clatter against the bathroom floor. You frown down at the newly cut length of your nails, feeling stripped of yet another small defense.

Before you can dwell on the thought, he leans over the bath, his face inching dangerously close to yours. There's hardly any space to retreat, and you’re forced to face him, your breath catching in your throat as his presence looms over you. His lips find the soft skin of your neck, leaving light, deliberate kisses that send a shiver of tension through your body.

Sensing your stiffness, he chuckles under his breath, the sound low and familiar, before cupping your face in his hand. His fingers are firm, cradling your jaw with unnerving gentleness.

"Relax..." he whispers, brushing his lips against yours in a soft, almost teasing kiss. "I won’t do anything now. Didn’t I promise you a break?"

His words echo in your mind, bringing with them the memory of his promise from this morning. Instead of threatening you for obedience, he’d dangled a twisted form of kindness—a reward, rather than punishment. A carrot, not a stick.

Promising that if you didn't put up a fight this morning, that would be the only time he would be inside you that day.

You would have been an idiot to refuse such an offer. Almost daily assaults had left you feeling sore and exhausted. Sure, you knew he was offering you crumbs of kindness as a way to train you into obedience but you were much stronger than that. He wouldn't break you so easily.

You simply hummed and nodded in agreement, giving him a small kiss back. You had come to learn that the quicker you returned his affection, the sooner he would relent. It worked, as he almost immediately smiled and leaned back on the stool. He suddenly reaches is arm up and looks at the watch on his wrist.

"Come on out. I bought a few things for you, sweetie," Sylus says softly, his eyes drifting back to your still-exposed body. You tense instinctively, sinking lower into the water as if it could shield you from his gaze. His words may be gentle, but the weight of his attention feels oppressive, suffocating.

Sensing your discomfort, he lets out a quiet laugh. "I’ll turn around. Just don’t try drowning yourself again," he chuckles, as though reading your mind. True to his word, he turns his back to you, but the tension in the room remains thick, your heart pounding in your chest. You wish, more than anything, that he would just leave, give you a moment of peace, but you know better than to ask.

With a deep breath, you grip the edge of the tub, steadying yourself as you rise from the water. The cool air hits your skin, a stark contrast to the heat of the bath, and your wet feet make a quiet slap against the cold tile as you step out. Quickly, you reach for the white towel resting on the sink and begin to dry yourself, moving with an urgency spurred by your skepticism that Sylus will stay turned away for long.

As you dry yourself, you notice something unexpected—when you reach between your legs, your hand freezes. A slight gasp escapes your lips as you spot it: crimson streaks, trailing down your inner thigh. For a moment, you stare in disbelief, watching the droplets of blood slowly slide down your leg. Then, reality hits, and you frantically press the towel to your skin, catching the blood before it can reach the floor.

"What's wrong?" Sylus asks, his voice suddenly alert as he turns his head, catching your gasp. His eyes lock onto the bloodstained towel, his posture shifting as he steps toward you, concern etched across his face. "Are you hurt?"

You swallow hard, a strange mixture of emotions flooding through you. "My period..." you say softly, almost under your breath, but then, a smile creeps onto your face, one you can't suppress.

Relief crashes over you like a tidal wave. You’ve never been so happy to see blood in your life.

You aren’t pregnant. You aren’t pregnant.

Your mind races, the implications still sinking in. It’s not over, but for now, you’re safe. Your hands shake as you pull your gaze from the red stain, your breath coming in short, shaky bursts. Then, a creeping awareness settles in—you aren’t alone.

Sylus is standing behind you. You feel his presence before you see him, the weight of his silence pressing against you. You quickly wipe the smile from your face, the relief vanishing as you turn slowly to face him.

"My period... it’s just my period," you whisper, your voice trembling, barely able to hold steady. You try to read his face, desperate for any sign of how he’s reacting. His expression shifts—concern morphs into a frown, and then... nothing. His face goes blank, like a mask slipping into place. You search frantically for any flicker of emotion—anger, frustration, relief—but it’s as though he’s walled himself off, unreachable.

Was he angry? Disappointed? You couldn’t tell, and that terrified you. Your stomach twists in knots, anxiety bubbling up again. The relief you felt moments ago is quickly replaced by a new dread. One disaster averted, but what now?

"Right," he says calmly, his voice devoid of any warmth, as though this is just another mundane detail in his well-controlled world. He reaches for the bloodied towel in your hands, his movements smooth and deliberate, like nothing about this situation surprises him. "Don’t worry about this. Just finish dressing."

He leans down, pulling open the cabinet under the sink. Your heart skips a beat as he sets several packages of pads and tampons on the counter, each one the exact brand and size you regularly use. A cold chill runs down your spine. How long had he been watching you before bringing you here? How much does he already know? The intimate knowledge of your life, right down to your feminine products, feels like another layer of control—a calculated invasion disguised as care.

"If you don’t want to use these, I’ll have Luke and Kieran get different ones," he says, his tone disturbingly casual, as though this conversation is perfectly normal.

Your throat tightens. "No, these are fine... thank you."

He gives a slight nod, but it’s mechanical, his face still unreadable, and he turns to leave, collecting the rest of your discarded clothes from the bathroom floor. His steps are quick but unhurried, a man always in control of his actions, of everything around him. He leaves you standing there, shaken, and once again, you feel small under his gaze. Whatever he’s feeling, he’s locked it away. You’ll never know unless he decides to let you.

The door closes behind him, and you’re left alone with your thoughts—and the creeping realization that you may never be truly alone again.

After gathering enough courage to leave the bathroom, you cautiously crack open the bedroom door. You peer out, spotting Sylus lounging on the leather sofa, his eyes glued to his phone. His posture is relaxed, casual, as if nothing unusual has happened. But the moment you step into the room, he looks up—his gaze sharp, as though he’s been waiting for you.

"Took you long enough," he says, a smirk playing at his lips, amusement evident in his voice. The cold, distant air he had in the bathroom has vanished, replaced with the easy confidence you’ve come to expect. He’s back to being the Sylus you recognize, the one who shifts between charm and control like flipping a switch.

You force a smile, trying to match his casual tone. "Yeah, well, drowning myself was starting to seem tempting again," you quip, keeping your voice light. You move past him toward the bed, wanting nothing more than to put some distance between the two of you. But before you can get far, his hand shoots out, wrapping around your wrist with a gentle but firm grip. The sudden contact sends a jolt through you, freezing you in place.

His touch isn’t rough, but there’s something in it that holds you captive, a subtle reminder of the power he holds. You glance down at his hand, then back up at him, unsure whether to pull away or let him guide the moment.

"Are you hungry?" he asks, his voice soft now, almost concerned. But the question hangs in the air, heavier than it should be.

"Oh! Uh... yeah?" you stammer, your voice barely above a whisper. As much as you wanted to ignore him and crawl into bed, the thought of food was too tempting to resist. Sylus stands, his grip on your wrist still firm, tugging you toward the bedroom door.

Your heart skips a beat as you watch him press his finger against the scanner beside the door. Why is he letting you this close? The lock hums and with a soft click, the door swings open. You stare at it, a thousand questions racing through your mind.

He turns back to you, his playful demeanor from moments ago evaporating in an instant, replaced by something darker, colder. His eyes lock onto yours, and suddenly, the atmosphere feels suffocating.

"Behave," he says, his voice low and serious. "Don’t wander off without me, and if you try anything... you won’t leave this room or the bed for weeks. Understood?"

The threat in his words chills you to your core. You're frozen in place, trying to process what’s happening. Is this real? Are you dreaming? Why now? The door stands open before you, a symbol of freedom, but it feels more like a trap, a carefully laid test. The air between you crackles with tension. One wrong move, and you know there will be consequences.

You shake your head quickly, pushing aside any fleeting thoughts of rebellion. Not now. Not yet.

Trying to break the moment, you turn your gaze toward the unopened bags still sitting in the corner of the room. "Didn’t you say you bought me some stuff?" you ask, your voice tentative, eyes flicking toward the bags. "I’m curious about what’s in them."

Anything to steer the conversation away from the potential threat.

"It’s okay, you can look at them later" Sylus says, his voice smooth and reassuring as he swings the door open wider. The invitation seems casual, but there’s something unsettling about how easily he offers it. His hand loosens slightly around your wrist, though he doesn’t let go completely, as if to remind you that the freedom he's offering has limits.

Your eyes flick from the open door to his face, searching for any hint of what’s really going on. His expression is calm, almost too calm, as if he’s in complete control of the situation, confident that you won’t dare make a move without his permission. The open door, the promise of something beyond this room, suddenly feels less like an escape and more like a stage he's set for you.

Every instinct in your body screams that this isn’t as simple as it looks. It’s a test, another subtle power play to remind you where you stand. The reassurance in his voice only deepens the pit in your stomach. He’s letting you out, but on his terms.

You force a nod, trying to swallow the growing unease. "Okay," you murmur, though the word feels foreign in your mouth, like you’re agreeing to something you don’t fully understand.

Sylus smiles—a small, practiced curve of his lips, but his eyes remain unreadable. He steps aside, making room for you to pass, yet the tension in the air doesn’t dissipate. It lingers, wrapping itself around you like a noose tightening with every step you take toward the door.

As you step cautiously past the threshold, the hallway beyond the door reveals a world of striking opulence. The air feels cooler, heavier, carrying the scent of leather and polished stone. Beneath your bare feet, the floor is a dark, sleek tile, almost black, with a high gloss that catches the low light and reflects distorted, shadowy images of the surroundings. Each step echoes slightly, the subtle tap of your feet magnified by the smooth surface, giving the space a cavernous, eerie quality.

The walls are a deep, charcoal black, lined with intricately carved molding that runs up to the high, coffered ceilings. Elegant sconces along the walls cast pools of soft, amber light, their glow bouncing off the glossy tiles, adding an extra layer of depth to the room. The lighting is deliberately dim, creating an atmosphere of perpetual twilight, where shadows stretch and warp across the dark floor, leaving certain corners cloaked in deeper darkness.

To your left, a grand staircase spirals down, its wrought iron railings twisting in elaborate, almost gothic designs. The banister is polished ebony, gleaming faintly in the soft light, while the steps are lined with a deep, crimson runner that stands in stark contrast to the black tiles, offering a rare touch of softness amid the cold, hard surfaces. The staircase seems to descend endlessly, vanishing into shadows that hint at more hidden secrets below.

Expensive art lines the walls—large, dark oil paintings that seem impossibly old, their subjects watching with melancholy or judgment. The frames are thick, gilded with gold, though their luster is muted with age. Between the paintings, mirrors with heavy, ornate frames reflect fragments of the space, but never enough to give you a full view—only glimpses, distorted by the interplay of light and shadow.

Despite the mansions undeniable beauty, there’s a coldness that seeps through the dark tile, a chill that seems to rise from the floor itself. Every detail, from the smooth tile to the velvet drapes, feels curated and perfect, yet it lacks any warmth or comfort. The space feels like a cage disguised in luxury—beautiful, yes, but suffocating in its grandiosity.

"Kitchen is downstairs" Sylus says, nodding in their direction. You quietly make a mental note of everything as you descend. This is your chance to map out the house, make a potential escape route. Even if Sylus was close behind, you shouldn't waste this opportunity gawking at everything. So he's filthy rich, so what?

Your eyes flit from the deep shadows that pool in the corners of the hall to the heavy drapery that conceals what’s outside. Every window, every door, every hallway could be a potential escape route if you ever get the chance. You tell yourself to remember where they are, how the house is laid out. A plan begins to form in the back of your mind, hazy but determined. One way or another, you’ll need to know this place inside and out.

Each step down the staircase feels like a test, a countdown of sorts. The further you go, the deeper you descend into Sylus’s world. The weight of his gaze makes it hard to breathe, but you know you can’t falter now. You keep your pace steady, your face expressionless, pretending that this is just a simple walk down the stairs, but inside, your thoughts race. Every second counts, and you’re not going to let this moment slip away unnoticed.

The rich, savory smell of roasted chicken invades your senses as you reach the last step, filling the air with an unexpected warmth. The faint crackle of fire and the clattering of pans echo from the nearby kitchen, the sounds weaving into the dark, quiet luxury of the house. It’s a stark contrast to the cold, empty grandeur surrounding you—this small slice of normalcy, of life. But the moment feels fragile, like it could break at any second.

Your foot barely touches the last step when Sylus’s hands clamp down on your shoulders. The sudden contact sends a jolt of fear through your body, your heart lurching as you instinctively jump.

"You’re jumpy," he says softly, his voice smooth but carrying a hint of amusement, as though your fear is entertaining to him. The warmth of the kitchen clashes with the cold tension between you, and the contrast makes the moment feel surreal.

Sylus guides you away from the comforting noises of the kitchen, leading you into a room that exudes the same dark, expensive elegance as the rest of the house. The atmosphere shifts as you step into the space—less intimate, more like a showpiece designed to impress rather than to live in. It’s reminiscent of a living room, though everything feels just a little too perfect, too polished.

Your eyes widen as a massive flatscreen TV comes into view, its size nearly absurd against the backdrop of rich, dark wood paneling and plush furniture. "Huh? I didn’t know they made TVs this big..." you whisper, the words slipping out before you can stop them. The screen is so large, it feels more like a home theater than a living room—something you’d only expect to see in movies or magazines. While the Hunter's Association paid you well, this level of luxury was foreign to you, something you'd never even considered owning.

Sylus follows your gaze to the screen, his expression unreadable. "Is something wrong with it? Too big? I can have it downsized," he offers casually, though his eyes search yours intently, as if he’s genuinely concerned about your comfort. His suggestion catches you off guard, and you cock your head in confusion. Why would he even suggest such a thing?

"No! It’s fine," you say quickly, shaking your head, still baffled by his willingness to adjust even something so extravagant for you. "I’ve just never seen one this huge."

Sylus nods, seemingly satisfied with your response, and motions toward the sofa. "Sit," he says, his tone soft but commanding. The sofa is deep, covered in smooth leather, and it practically swallows you when you lower yourself onto it.

He wastes no time sitting next to you, checking his watch again. You fiddle nervously beside him, feeling out of place in such a space. First he lets you out of his room for the very first time in weeks, and now the both of you are sitting on the couch casually as if this was routine.

You desperately wished you could tell what he was thinking.

"Chef should be done in a few minutes" Sylus said, interrupting your anxious thoughts. He tenderly intertwines his fingers with yours, lifting your hand up to press a soft kiss against your knuckles. His gaze is unwavering as he looks at you.

Your gaze shifts, briefly breaking away from his piercing eyes, and lands on a shelf in the corner of the room behind him. Something there catches your attention—an old, meticulously cared-for record player. Its polished surface gleams in the low light, a relic of a different time. It’s beautiful in its simplicity, standing out against the modern opulence surrounding it. You wonder briefly about its significance. Why something so old in a house filled with the latest luxuries?

But the question fades as Sylus’s thumb gently strokes your hand, pulling your focus back to him. He's being tender right now, and feeling bold, you start talking.

"I didn't think the leader of Onychinus would live in such a grand place" you say calmly, eyeing his reaction. Instead of anger of irritation, he simply smiles as if he already realized you had figured out his identity.

"Oh? What were you thinking then?"

"Well...I figured you would be in hiding" you say plainly, gritting your teeth a bit. "This place is pretty easy to spot. Lots of hiding places too."

Sylus chuckles as if you just told him something funny. "Sweetie nothing gets in or out of this place without me knowing, that's hardly a worry"

You mentally curse yourself. Of course he has cameras. Why wouldn’t he? A man like Sylus would never leave anything to chance, especially not in a place like this. Escaping wouldn’t be as simple as memorizing the layout of the house. You’d have to make it past the cameras, the eyes constantly watching, recording every move. The realization makes your stomach sink. Even your thoughts of escape feel smaller, less attainable now.

The air grows thick with the scent of steam and roasted chicken as a figure appears around the corner. The chef, an older man with deep-set lines in his face, moves with quiet precision. He says nothing as he places an exquisite spread of chicken and side dishes on the table in front of you. Everything looks impossibly perfect—the golden-brown skin of the chicken, the vibrant vegetables, the delicately arranged plates. It’s the kind of meal you might see in a restaurant you could never afford, yet it feels out of place here, too refined and elegant for the suffocating tension in the room.

The chef doesn’t speak, not a word, but he gives a small nod in Sylus’s direction before quietly retreating from the room. His presence, brief and silent, only adds to the strange, controlled atmosphere. You find yourself wondering if he knows—if he’s aware of the twisted dynamic at play here—or if he’s just another piece of the puzzle that makes up Sylus’s meticulously crafted world.

For a moment, you think about the cameras again. They’re watching, just like Sylus. Always watching. You force yourself to focus on the meal, trying not to give away the panic bubbling beneath your calm exterior. You smile faintly, but your mind races with the next hurdle: it’s not just about getting out of the house, it’s about getting out unseen.

Sylus glances at you, his hand still resting on yours. "Eat," he says softly, his voice smooth but with an edge of command beneath it. The invitation sounds pleasant, but you know better. This isn’t a request.

You nod, swallowing hard, a knot of anxiety tightening in your throat. You start with the green beans, methodically chewing, your mind already strategizing. Green beans—protein and energy for running. Every bite, every move from here on out has to be deliberate, with purpose. Escaping this place was never going to be easy, but now it feels even more impossible. Still, you cling to the idea that preparation is key. You’ll need your strength for when the time comes.

As you chew, you glance at Sylus and notice something unsettling. He hasn’t touched his plate. His gaze is fixed on you, watching, as if he’s waiting for something. The unease that had been simmering beneath the surface now starts to bubble up. You meet his eyes, silently questioning why he’s not eating. He smiles tenderly.

"I’ll be tracking your ovulation window from now on," he says casually, as though he were discussing the weather. "Since you’ve gotten your first period since staying here, now would be a good time to start."

The words hit you like ice water, chilling you to the core. You freeze, your fork halting mid-air as the meaning of what he said sinks in. The casualness of his tone, the way he drops such a personal, invasive statement into the conversation as if it’s nothing, leaves you reeling. He’s watching you, gauging your reaction, his smile lingering in the same unsettling way.

The room, with all its lavish furnishings and exquisite food, suddenly feels more like a cage than ever. It’s not just about being physically trapped anymore—it’s the knowledge that even your body is under his control. He’s tracking you, monitoring the most intimate parts of your life. Any illusion of autonomy shatters, leaving only the cold reality of how deeply he intends to dominate every aspect of your existence.

You force yourself to swallow the bite in your mouth, your heart pounding in your chest. Stay calm, you tell yourself. Don’t react. Not yet.

"That won't guarantee a baby" you retort, trying your best to hide a scowl. You know you’re pushing him, testing the boundaries, but the words slip out before you can stop them. The shift in his expression is immediate. The amusement that once danced in his eyes evaporates, replaced by something darker, more calculated.

His face contorts into a deep frown, the muscles in his jaw tightening as he processes your defiance. For a moment, he says nothing, and the air between you feels charged, thick with unspoken tension.

"Maybe not the first time," he starts slowly, his voice dropping a notch, finally picking up his own fork. His tone is calm, but there’s a cold edge to it, like he’s already several steps ahead in whatever twisted game he’s playing. "Or the second time."

He takes a deliberate bite, chewing slowly, his eyes never leaving yours, as if daring you to interrupt. After what feels like an eternity, he swallows and leans back against the sofa, his gaze sharp and unrelenting.

"But it will eventually."

The words hang in the air, a dark promise. His voice is measured, controlled, but beneath the surface, you can feel the underlying threat. Sylus isn’t just talking about biology; he’s making it clear that he will keep trying, over and over again, until he gets what he wants. The casual way he says it, as if it’s inevitable, sends a shiver down your spine.

The words settle in your mind, their dark implications unfurling like a slow, creeping poison. You can’t take it anymore—the calm, the control, the endless power games. Something inside you snaps. The fear, the careful restraint you’ve held onto for weeks, crumbles all at once. Before you can stop yourself, you slam your fist down onto the table, the sharp clatter of silverware echoing through the room.

"Do you even hear yourself?" you shout, your voice shaking with rage. "You think this is some sick game? You can’t just… you can’t control my body like that! You can't just—" Your voice breaks, the dam of emotions bursting wide open. "You think you can force this? That you can just keep me here, like I’m some… some breeding stock? Like I don’t have a say in my own life?"

Your breath comes in short, ragged bursts, your heart pounding in your ears. The words are spilling out now, unstoppable. "You think tracking my ovulation, making your plans—doing whatever sick family fantasy thing you have in mind—is going to work? You have no right! No right to decide what happens to me, no right to decide my future for your delusions!"

Sylus's fork clatters back onto his plate, his face blank at first, but the tension in the air is palpable. He doesn’t interrupt, just watches as you lose control, like he’s waiting for something—maybe for you to exhaust yourself, maybe for you to break down entirely. But you don’t care anymore.

"You’re insane!" you spit, your voice cracking as the emotions surge, unstoppable now. "This whole place—this whole twisted world of yours—it’s a prison. Do you even get that? It doesn’t matter how much money you throw at it, how many things you control, it’ll never make you anything but a monster!"

The words hang in the air, trembling with the rawness of your outburst. Your chest heaves, your hands shaking uncontrollably. You’re on the verge of tears, but you refuse to let them fall. Not in front of him. Not now.

"I'll kill myself before any child of yours ever calls me mom" you say, your words ringing through the still and quiet mansion.

Sylus’s expression shifts, the mask of calm slipping ever so slightly. His eyes narrow, and his lips press into a thin, tight line. For a moment, the room feels like it’s holding its breath. Then, as if something in him cracks open, he smiles. A slow, unnerving grin spreads across his face, the darkness in his eyes momentarily replaced by something even more disturbing—amusement.

You stare at him, dumbfounded, trying to process the sudden shift in his demeanor. The anger you had expected never comes. Instead, a low chuckle rumbles from his chest, growing louder, filling the room with an eerie echo that makes your skin crawl.

"Are you done with your little tantrum, kitten?" he coos, his voice dripping with condescension. The way he says "kitten" sends a shiver down your spine, the pet name laced with eerie sweetness. Without warning, he reaches out, gripping your wrist with an unsettling gentleness, pulling you toward him with ease.

Before you can react, he yanks you down onto his lap, forcing you to straddle him. Your body stiffens, the weight of him beneath you both unsettling and humiliating. You feel trapped, like prey ensnared in a hunter’s grasp. His arm wraps around your waist, locking you in place. You try to pull away, but his hold is unyielding.

"Poor thing," he murmurs, his voice soft but taunting as his fingers trail lazily up your back, "you’re just a little ball of anger, aren’t you?" His smile widens as his hand slides into your hair, gently tugging it, controlling even the smallest movements. You feel the tension in your body spike, but any resistance you try to muster is immediately swallowed by the cold reality of his control.

"You know," he continues, his tone light, almost playful, as if you weren’t just screaming at him moments ago, "I could let you keep fighting me. Let you wear yourself out like a kitten clawing at something it can’t catch." He chuckles again, his fingers tightening in your hair, forcing your head to tilt just enough so that you have no choice but to meet his gaze. His eyes, dark and unreadable, lock onto yours with a frightening intensity.

"But we both know how this ends, don’t we?" he whispers, his voice dropping into something dangerously low. His smile never fades, but the amusement in his eyes sharpens into something cruel. "You’ll tire yourself out. You always do."

A whimper escapes your lips as his grip tightens in your hair, the pressure mounting to the point where it’s impossible to hold back any longer. The tears you’ve fought so desperately to contain now spill freely, streaking down your cheeks. Your body trembles as the emotional dam breaks, the fear, frustration, and helplessness flooding out all at once.

Sylus notices. His expression shifts, softening in a way that feels strange. The cruel amusement that once gleamed in his eyes fades, replaced by something disturbingly gentle. He loosens his grip on your hair, letting his fingers glide down to your cheek. His thumb brushes away the hot tears, wiping them tenderly.

"Don’t cry pretty girl," he murmurs, his voice a quiet coo. The gentleness in his tone feels like a strange juxtaposition to the fear still gripping your chest. His other hand slides down to cradle your face, keeping you close, but no longer with the same force. "It’s okay. I promised I’d take care of you, didn’t I?"

He presses soft kisses on your lips as they tremble and you just let him, the weight of the situation crashing on you. "Just take my cum and have my baby, I'll take care of everything else. Doesn't that sound easy?"

You jerk your head away from him at the mere thought of him impregnating you.

He turns your head back towards him, his lips pressing a soft kiss against your tear-streaked cheek, the touch almost reverent. The sensation makes your skin crawl, the tenderness a cruel mockery of the power he so clearly holds over you. You want to pull away, but his hands keep you there, gently holding you in place as if to soothe the very tears he caused.

His lips move to your hand, kissing your tear-stained fist, as though he’s trying to console you after making you break down. The gesture feels wrong, every soft touch an extension of his control masquerading as care. He’s not only comforting you out of kindness and love but he’s reminding you that even your pain belongs to him, that he can take you to the brink of despair and then pull you back whenever he pleases.

"You can scream, you can break my things, you can throw tantrums, but in the end..." His voice lowers, chillingly calm. "You’re still mine. You still belong to me. Your anger? It’s nothing. It won’t change anything."

The room feels smaller now, his words wrapping around you like a vice, tightening with every breath. You can’t breathe, can’t think, the weight of the situation crashing down on you all over again.

"And as for your outburst..." he says, his lips curling into a faint smile. "It will have consequences."

Your body trembles as his thumb brushes away another tear, his touch tender, almost soothing. And despite the revulsion that twists in your stomach, despite every fiber of your being screaming at you to push him away, you don’t.

You can’t.

You’re just so exhausted.

Without even realizing it, you lean into him, your body betraying your mind. The weight of your exhaustion is unbearable, and the fight you’ve held onto for so long begins to slip through your fingers like sand. Your head rests against his chest, the steady rise and fall of his breathing providing a sick sort of comfort that you hate yourself for needing.

He holds you gently, his arm wrapping around your waist, securing you against him as though he’s protecting you. The irony is suffocating. This man, who has twisted your world into a living nightmare, is now the one offering you comfort. And as much as you despise him for it, for the control he wields over you, you sink deeper into his embrace, desperate for the warmth and the momentary relief from your own anguish.

"There you go," he murmurs softly, his fingers stroking your hair in long, calming motions. "See? It’s not so bad, is it?"

The words cut, each one a reminder of the power he holds over you, but you’re too drained to care anymore. The anger, the defiance, the hatred—it’s all still there, burning under the surface, but right now, the only thing you can feel is the weight of your own exhaustion pulling you down, dragging you into a state of reluctant surrender.

"I hate you," you whisper, your voice barely audible, muffled by his chest. The words come out broken, hollow, lacking the fire they once carried. But it’s all you can manage, the last flicker of resistance in a sea of overwhelming fatigue.

"I know," Sylus replies, his voice soft and almost indulgent, as though your hatred is just another part of the game to him. He holds you tighter, his hand continuing to caress your hair.

"But it doesn’t matter, sweetie. You’re mine now. Hate me all you want, I’ll still take care of you."

You hate him for saying it. You hate him for making you feel like you need him. But in this moment, you’re too tired to fight him. You allow yourself to collapse into the illusion of safety, just for a little while, even though you know it’s a trap.

You wake to the sensation of being moved, cradled like you’re something fragile. It’s disorienting at first, and for a brief, blissful moment, you don’t remember where you are. But then the cold reality slams into you.

Sylus.

Your eyes flicker open, and through the haze of sleep, you realize he’s carrying you. His arms are steady, but the feel of his hold sends a chill down your spine. You try to shake off the drowsiness, to push yourself upright, but your limbs feel weak and uncooperative.

"Shh," he whispers, his voice gentle, though it only makes the situation worse. "Go back to sleep. You’re safe."

Safe. The word rings hollow in your mind. You know better. Even though his touch is soft and careful, even though his voice is low and comforting, you know exactly where you are—exactly who holds you.

Your heart sinks as you hear the faint whirr of a door opening. He’s taking you back to the room, the one where you’ve spent so many weeks locked away, trapped. A lump forms in your throat as you realize what’s happening, but you’re too weak to fight it. You had a brief taste of freedom, even if it was a twisted version of it, but now he’s putting you back in your cage.

Sylus steps into his room, the dim light casting long shadows over the dark, lavish space. He moves with deliberate care, like he’s handling something precious, lowering you onto the bed with a gentleness that feels grotesque in its contrast to what he’s actually doing.

Your body sinks into the mattress, your limbs too heavy to lift. You manage a weak protest, a soft whimper of resistance, but he shushes you again, his hand brushing the side of your face with infuriating tenderness.

"Sleep, kitten. You need your rest."

He moves to the door, and you hear the unmistakable sound of the lock. The finality of it sends a fresh wave of despair through you. You’re back in the same room, the same prison, despite the moments of fragile comfort you had shared. It all meant nothing. You’re still his prisoner.

You turn your face into the pillow, tears pricking at your eyes once more, but you’re too drained to cry again. Your body aches, your mind is foggy, and sleep still tugs at you, relentless in its pull. You hate that you find any sense of comfort in the bed, in the quiet, but there’s no fight left in you tonight.

With the sound of the lock still echoing in your mind, you close your eyes and let yourself slip back into unconsciousness, knowing that tomorrow, nothing will have changed.

You wake suddenly, gasping for air, your skin slick with sweat. The sheets are tangled around your legs, suffocatingly warm. For a moment, you think it's just another nightmare—the kind that leaves you feeling claustrophobic and panicked—but the heat in the room is real, heavy, and stifling.

You sit up slowly, blinking in the darkness, your breath coming in shallow gasps. Something feels off. The usual low hum of electricity, the steady whir of the ceiling fan, the soft glow of electronics—they’re all gone. Silence presses down around you, and the air in the room feels thick and still, almost oppressive.

The power’s out.

It hits you slowly at first, like a distant thought struggling to surface. The heat, the silence... no fan, no lights. And then it clicks. The power’s out. The fingerprint scanner.

Your heart skips a beat, adrenaline spiking through your veins. No power means the security system that’s kept you locked in this room—trapped and helpless—is down. The scanner on the door, the one that’s monitored your every movement, is dead. It has to be.

This could be your only chance.

You stumble out of bed, your legs shaky, still groggy from sleep but jolted awake by the rush of adrenaline. Your hands tremble as you feel your way to the door in the dark, the oppressive heat clinging to your skin. The room is suffocating, the air too thick to breathe, but none of that matters now.

You press your thumb against the scanner, holding your breath. Nothing happens. The small screen remains black, unresponsive. It’s not working.

A flicker of hope flares in your chest. The lock isn’t powered. You press your palm against the door and push, feeling it give under your hand. Slowly, carefully, you ease the door open just a crack and peer out into the hallway.

The corridor is bathed in shadow, darker than when you last saw it. The ambient lights, the security monitors, everything is dead. The house is eerily still, the silence even more unnerving than before. You step into the hallway, your heart racing as you move forward, each step deliberate and cautious.

For a brief, terrifying moment, you expect to hear Sylus’s voice, or the sound of footsteps approaching from behind, but the house remains quiet. You know he has Luke and Kieran stationed somewhere, but for now, the way seems clear.

You make your way toward the grand staircase, remembering some parts of the house from earlier. The front door is just ahead, at the bottom of the stairs. The hallway stretches before you, dark and endless, but your pulse quickens with the possibility of freedom.

You take a breath and descend the stairs as quietly as possible, gripping the banister for balance. Each creak of the wood beneath your feet feels deafening in the stillness. Your eyes dart around the hallway, searching the shadows for any sign of movement.

Finally, you reach the bottom of the stairs. The front door looms ahead, and you move toward it, the air growing cooler as you get closer. Your hand reaches for the door handle, and just as your fingers brush the cool metal, you freeze.

Voices.

You hear them—low, muffled voices coming from outside the door. Sylus’s men.

"Shit, powers out. We gotta start the generators."

Your heart sinks. They're right outside. You cant go this way without immediately being manhandled.

You glance around frantically, your mind racing for another way out. The house is massive, full of rooms and corridors, but you have no idea where the other exits lead. Still, you can’t afford to stand here and think—you need to move.

Then you remember. The kitchen. Maybe there's a way out there?

It’s a long shot, but you don’t have any other options. You turn quickly, darting down the hallway, your footsteps light and deliberate on the smooth, black tile. The shadows seem to stretch and twist around you, and every small creak feels like it’s echoing through the silence. You try to keep calm, but the fear of being caught wraps tighter around your chest with every passing second.

You reach the kitchen, and the oppressive heat of the house seems to lessen as you step inside. The room is large and dark, no light to be seen through the windows. The scent of stale food lingers in the air, remnants of a meal long forgotten, but you barely notice it. Your eyes dart to the side door.

It’s small, barely noticeable in the corner of the room, half-concealed behind shelves and cabinets. The door leads out to the horse racing track—you remember Sylus mentioning it in conversation once.

You rush toward the door, your pulse thundering in your ears. You reach for the handle, your hand trembling as it wraps around the cool metal. For a brief moment, you fear it’ll be locked, that this last chance at freedom will slip through your fingers.

Thankfully, with a twist and a click it opens.

The space beyond the kitchen is nothing like you expected—no trees, no breeze, just the harsh, cold landscape of the N109 zone. The dark, black midnight sky looms over you like an oppressive blanket, thick and unwelcoming. No stars, no moonlight, just an endless void stretching above you. The air is still and stale, a reflection of the lifelessness surrounding you.

But you have no time to process any of it. You can’t stop now. You have to keep moving.

Your feet press into the cracked, uneven ground as you forge ahead, your breath shallow and quick. As you walk, the outline of several horse stables comes into view. The structures are dark, the animals inside unmoving, their silhouettes barely visible in the low light. Thankfully, the horses are all asleep. None stir as you pass by quietly, your body tense and ready to bolt at the slightest sound. The only thing you hear is the quiet crunch of your own footsteps on the rough surface beneath you.

Ahead, a tall fence looms in the distance, a final obstacle standing between you and the outer edges of the N109 zone. You approach it cautiously, your heart pounding in your chest as you study its height. It’s rusted and worn, but still sturdy enough to make the climb difficult. You don’t have time to think—you have to act.

Gripping the cold metal tightly, you heave yourself up, your muscles straining with each movement. Your hands slip slightly, the rough texture of the fence biting into your palms as you scramble to find footing. Panic flares briefly in your chest, but you grit your teeth and push through the fear. You can’t stop now.

Just as you manage to get a decent grip, you hear it—the unmistakable hum of power returning. Behind you, Sylus’s mansion springs to life. Lights flicker on in the distance, illuminating the cold, empty halls that only moments ago were shrouded in darkness. The power’s back. It won’t be long before they notice you’re gone. They’ll be coming for you.

It’s now or never.

With a final burst of strength, you haul yourself up the last few feet of the fence, your breath coming in ragged gasps. The metal digs into your skin, but you don’t care. You pull yourself over the top, balancing precariously for a moment before launching yourself over.

You crash onto the other side, landing face-first on the hard, unforgiving ground. Pain shoots through your body as your knees and elbows scrape against the jagged surface, but you don’t let it stop you. You’ve come too far to be caught now.

For a moment, you lie there, dazed and gasping for breath, the shock of the impact making your head spin. The cold ground beneath you feels like both a punishment and a reminder that you’re not free yet. Behind you, you can hear the faint sounds of activity from the mansion—the twins moving, footsteps echoing in the distance.

They know.

Ignoring the pain, you force yourself to your feet, your body protesting with every movement. The fence looms behind you like a dark sentinel, separating you from the life you’re fleeing. You don’t dare look back at the mansion, don’t give yourself the chance to second-guess your next move.

You start running.

The landscape ahead is bleak and dark, with nothing but cold, cracked streets in every direction. There’s no breeze, no noise apart from your labored breathing and the pounding of your feet against the ground. A few tall and bleak buildings reminiscent of a part of a city come into view. You start making your way there.

You’re outside. You’re running. And for the first time in what feels like forever, the possibility of freedom is real, even if it’s still far out of reach.

In the distance, perched on a dead landline, a mechanical crow preens its feathers. Its head jerks toward a running girl, its red eyes locking onto her figure. Without warning, it spreads its metal wings and takes off in her direction, gears whirring as it follows from above.

[crystallinestars]

Taking Care of Them

Short scenarios about Argenti, Aventurine, and Jing Yuan receiving much-needed care and comfort from you. Pure fluff, a little hurt/comfort for Aventurine's part.

I took some creative liberties with Aventurine's character since we still don't know everything about him yet, so this is simply my interpretation of him.

This isn't proofread because my brain is fried from writing.

--------------------

🌹 Argenti:

As a Knight of Beauty, Argenti is a highly skilled fighter who puts his very life on the line to vanquish his foes. Usually, he defeats his enemies with grace and style, but even the refined Argenti sometimes sustains injuries.

In his most recent battle, Argenti made it out practically unscathed, save for a few scrapes and bruises that marred his handsome face. That was how he found himself obediently sitting on your bed while you treated his wounds.

“I apologize that you have to see me in this state,” he murmurs, guilt darkening his expression. “I did not want to cause you worry.”

“No need to apologize,” you brush off his concerns with a smile. “Now turn this way. I’ll clean the scratch on your cheek,” you said as you gently turn Argenti’s face to one side to reveal the shallow, red gash on his cheek.

Argenti complies without hesitance and sits perfectly still as you dab at the scratch with a cotton ball soaked in alcohol. It stings, but the Knight of Beauty unflinchingly tolerates the burn with a small smile on his face.

He can tell through the delicate and careful way you clean and dress his wounds that you care a great deal about him. Your touches were gentle so as to not cause him unnecessary pain, yet no less thorough. It felt nice to be touched so tenderly, to be cared for in such a loving manner.

Your heart is beautiful, he thinks. To possess such a caring and loving heart, you must rival the beauty of his beloved Aeon Idrila. Argenti truly believes that you are a wonderful and beautiful person, both inside and out.

As you finish patching up the last wound and pack away your first aid kit, Argenti turns to you and gives you a radiant, sincere smile from the heart.

“Thank you…” he softly says as gently takes one of your hands and kisses the back of it, “You have a dazzling heart—so pure and gentle. I feel like the luckiest man in the universe to have the privilege of receiving your care and affection.”

His words may sound over-the-top and perhaps even fake, but he truly means them. Every single one. Even if you don’t entirely believe him, the amused smile that his flamboyant phrases elicit out of you is all the reason he needs to keep them up.

“You’re welcome. Just try to be more careful next time. I’ll love you no matter how you look, but I hate seeing you hurt,” you murmur in reply and lean in to kiss the band-aid on his cheek.

“There. A kiss to make it all better,” you giggle as you pull away.

The little gesture catches Argenti by surprise, but he can’t say he didn’t like it. In fact, he enjoyed it more than he ever thought he would.

With a small chuckle, he pulls you close to kiss you fully on the lips. If you don’t take his word for it that he feels incredibly lucky to have your love, then perhaps his actions will convey the sincerity of his feelings for you.

🦚 Aventurine:

All his life, Aventurine has faced hate. Hate for being Sigonian, hate for being a dog of the IPC, hate for acting exactly the way that’s expected of his kind. He played into people’s perceptions of him. Why waste time trying to correct their views when they won’t change? It’s easier to just act according to their expectations and hide who he really is behind this playful and sly mask.

Only with you does he let his carefully crafted façade crumble to reveal his vulnerable self.

Aventurine is very good at acting like everything is fine when the world is against him. Perhaps to an extent, he truly believes that life is all about fighting battles on his lonesome. He can use others and get used as a tool in return, but the only one he can trust is himself. It’s the only life he’s ever known.

However, you’ve known him long enough to tell that the hate and isolation get to him, no matter how much he pretends that they don’t. When he comes home one night after a particularly awful day, it doesn’t take long for you to figure out that he feels down.

Aventurine smiled and teased you like usual, but he spoke less and clung to you more than usual. He hugged you from behind and kept an arm around you no matter what you were trying to do, almost as if he was seeking comfort from your physical presence.

Turning to face him, you glance into his tired eyes.

“What is it, darling? See something you like?” he teased, the corner of his mouth tugging into a smirk.

“Hmm, no,” you hummed. Extending your arms forward, you wrapped them around Aventurine and slowly pulled him into a hug. “I don’t see something I like.”

Aventurine is momentarily stunned by your unprompted action, but he quickly recovers.

“Oh? How come? Am I not appealing enough for you?” he quipped, resting his chin on your shoulder and returning your hug. Unlike your tight hug, his arms wrapped around you in a loose hold, as if he was uncertain how to go about it.

“Quite the opposite,” you softly chuckle, “I don’t see something I like, but I do see someone I love,” you whisper and turn your head to look directly at Aventurine’s face.

A beat of silence passes as Aventurine processes your words, before bursting out laughing.

“That was painfully corny, even for you!” he chuckled.

You scoff but don’t say anything in response, simply continuing to hug him tightly. Slowly, carefully, you card your fingers through his blond hair before moving lower to stroke your palm along his spine in soothing circles.

Aventurine’s laughter dies down, his initial mirth now replaced with something fragile and vulnerable as he falls quiet. He won’t ever share what burdens him, but you don’t need to know the details to provide him comfort. If he doesn’t want to tell you, then you won’t pry. At the very least, you’ll do all you can to support him and remind him that he’s not alone.

Being wrapped up in your warm embrace, feeling your gentle caresses—it all felt unfamiliar to Aventurine. It’s been so long since he felt the tender and loving affection of another person. It took a while, but eventually he relaxed and allowed himself to lean into your body, burying his nose into the crook of your neck.

Silence lingered in the air, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. There was something soothing in not having to talk. It was freeing to not worry about pretending to be okay or be pressured to talk about the things that trouble him.

That hug—that simple act of human affection—made him feel safe and protected in your arms. When you leaned back slightly to plant a tender kiss on Aventurine’s forehead, something inside him snapped and he had to hold back tears. Burying his face deeper into the crook of your neck, he clung tightly to you while you continued to rub slow circles along his back.

“It’s okay. It’ll all be okay, I’m here. You’re not alone…” you whisper, hugging him tighter.

Being wrapped up in your warm hug, feeling your affectionate kisses and gentle words is something Aventurine never knew he needed until now. Just for this moment, he lets his walls come down and bares his wounded self to you with the hope that you can soothe his pain if only a little.

And you do. With whispered reassurances and loving caresses, you ease his hurt, even if just temporarily. He is safe, you promise. He will always be safe in your arms.

🦁 Jing Yuan:

Jing Yuan is notorious for disliking the abundance of paperwork and other leadership tasks he has to take care of on a day-to-day basis as a General of the Xianzhou Luofu. Despite his woeful sighs about how tedious it is, and how the work never seems to end, Jing Yuan still accomplishes all his duties in a timely and precise fashion.

Jing Yuan is a hard worker, you are well aware of that. Which is why when he snuck out of the Seat of Divine Foresight to come spend some free time with you, you offered him to rest on your lap. And who was he to turn down such a tempting opportunity?

Sitting outside on the veranda with Jing Yuan’s head resting on your lap, you softly ran your fingers through his fluffy, white hair, marveling at how silky it was. It was as soft as it looked.

“I could get used to this,” Jing Yuan said with a sigh, relaxing into our touch. His golden eyes were closed as he enjoyed the sensations of your fingers combing through his hair, gently massaging his scalp and soothing any tension he felt.

Chuckling, you looked down at him, mirth dancing in your eyes.

“Really? I wouldn’t mind having you as my lap cat like this more often. Why not come see me every day and get pets?” you tease him as you lightly poke his cheek.

Jing Yuan cracks open one eye to give you an amused look.

“Being your lap cat sounds like a wonderful idea,” he sighs, “Laying on your lap and getting pampered sounds like my ideal life.”

Both of you burst out laughing at the ridiculous notion of Jing Yuan being a lap cat, your spirits lifting as the mood brightened even more.

“Ah, but if you ever want to take a break and relax, you’re always welcome to see me,” you say in a softer voice this time, resuming running your fingers through his tresses.

“I’ll keep your invitation in mind,” he replied, his voice dropping an octave as he relaxed into your touch once more.

The minutes pass in a comfortable and serene atmosphere, with you pampering Jing Yuan with affectionate caresses, meanwhile, the man listens to you talk about your day. You both knew that after this he would have to go back and complete the mountain of work waiting for him, but for now, you were content to spend this little bit of time with your beloved.

Under the warm sun and gentle breeze, with his head resting comfortably on your lap, Jing Yuan felt himself growing drowsy. His eyelids became heavier, and his body didn’t want to move from his position on your lap.

Noticing the General grow sleepy, you fought the urge to tease him. If you pointed out his sleepiness, he would most likely apologize and put a stop to this tranquil moment by getting up and heading back to work. He already saw you less than either of you wanted, simply because work kept him busy. Moments like these were a luxury.

Keeping quiet, you gently massage his scalp until his breaths even out and become deeper, seeming to have fallen asleep. His expression looked so serene and vulnerable, something that very few people have had the chance to witness. As his lover, you were privy to this sight more than most. You watch over him with a small smile on your face, gently tucking away a stray strand of his hair.

Thinking he was asleep, you lean down to press a lingering kiss to his forehead, but as you straighten, you notice Jing Yuan peering up at you with an amused glint in his eyes.

Growing flustered, you quickly look away, feeling your cheeks heat up with a blush.

Jing Yuan only laughs in response, but his laughter quickly turns into a contented purr as you shut him up with another head massage. Whatever teasing remark he had prepared, immediately died on his tongue as relaxation washed over him and he felt sleep take hold of his mind again.

“It’s ok, take a nap. I’ll wake you up in a few minutes,” you murmur, willing Jing Yuan to finally get some rest. You could tell he wanted to protest, but with a light brush of your thumbs over his temples, he released a sigh of defeat and conceded.

“You certainly know how to take advantage of my weaknesses,” he chuckled, voice a little hoarse from drowsiness.

Despite his initial reluctance, Jing Yuan fell asleep fairly quickly. The continuous days of endless work had left him exhausted, but your tender pampering and sweet company were just the respite he needed.

“Sleep tight,” you whisper, gracing him with another sweet kiss on his forehead.

[wanda-widow]

Post-Mission

Grumpy!Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 832

Summary: Bucky has always been one to try and pull away from people who care about him. However, you're always one to be insistent and care for him anyways, no matter what he says.

18+ MDNI

Warnings: slight angst, implied smut if you squint your eyes, fluff

Like and reblog if you wish 💗

Hearing footsteps shuffle down the hall along with the sound of a dragging duffle was all you needed to know that Bucky was back from his week long mission. Hopping off the bed and peeking your head out of your shared bedroom, you saw Bucky scrub a weary hand down his face. You instantly frowned, worried as you hurried over to him, taking the duffle out of his hands. 

“How was the mission? Are you hurt anywhere? We should get you some food, you look exhausted” you said while rushing back to the room to unpack his gear as he let out a sigh, silently chucking off his boots before face planting on the bed. 

“Bucky?” came your worried voice after you put his boots into the closet, sitting on the bed next to him and poking his shoulder. “Bucky, get up. Shower, eat, and then rest.” you urged, poking him again when his vibranium hand shot out to grip your wrist.

“Let me sleep” he said gruffly before shifting on the bed so that his back was turned to you, leaving you rubbing your wrist softly. You knew he wasn’t too responsive after missions since it took so much out of him, not that he was one for words or self care anyways. Still, you took it upon yourself to make sure he was cared for. 

“Please? I’ll make you plum croissants tomorrow if you just shower and eat” you tried again, scooting closer to him to rest your head on his shoulder as you felt him sigh again before sitting up.

“Eat and then shower” he said, running a hand through his hair as he made his way to one of the compound communal kitchens, sitting down on one of the stools as he waited for you expectantly. 

“Grilled cheese?” you offered, slotting yourself in the opening between his thighs, pressing a kiss to his forehead as he nodded, fingers trailing down your arm as you pulled away. You could feel his gaze follow you as you bustled around the kitchen to make his food. “Go shower and then you can eat after” you said softly, turning around to look at him as he frowned, reaching out to tug you by the wrist back into his proximity.

“Thought you would shower with me” he said softly, letting his walls down while no one else was around. You felt his hands come to rest on your waist, forehead between your breasts as he pressed a kiss through your clothes. 

“Another time, I promise” you laughed softly, letting your hands run through his hand before stopping at his shoulders, letting one hand trail down his vibranium arm. He let out a quiet whine before getting off the stool, dropping a kiss to the top of your head. You watched as he went back to the room to shower before turning back to the sandwich, humming softly.

20 minutes later, Bucky was freshly showered and seated at the counter once more, gaze still fixed on you as you plated his sandwich and sat next to him. He ate in silence for a while as you observed the new wounds on his back. Finding some gauze and neosporin, you began to bandage them gently.

“They’re shallow but-” 

“They’re nothing” Bucky cut you off but made no move to stop you from patching him up. After placing the last piece of medical tape, he turned in his stool to face you, the both of you exchanging silent conversation before he got up to wash his plate. 

“If you keep going on long missions, you’re just gonna keep destroying yourself, Buck” you said quietly, swallowing the lump in your throat. It became more apparent that the past couple months, he just drew further into himself with each mission, determined to block out the pain with endless fighting. 

“I’m just helping the team” he said tersely, putting his dish in the drying rack before he walked back to the room, expecting you to follow behind him. You stood there for a moment, willing for the emotions to fade, to appreciate that he was here. 

Your legs moved in habit, walking to your shared bedroom and flicking off the light before sliding under the covers with him. You could still hear his breaths, short and controlled. He wasn’t asleep.

After a long moment of silence, he spoke up again. “I don’t mean it, doll. The rudeness, the violence. I’m trying.”

“Bucky…” you started quietly but stopped when you felt the bed shift, a heavy weight now resting across your waist, shallow puffs of breath ghosting across your collarbone. 

“I’ll take a month break, spend time with you?” he half offered, half begged, the grip on your waist tightening.

“James…” 

“Only time with you. No one else unless really needed” he whispered, his leg shifting to now rest over yours, lips gently sucking at the base of your neck, smirking when he felt you cave. 

“How does Bali sound?”