#i try to open anything and then it crashes immediately...

[darkmatilda]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐈𝐧 𝐕𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐬 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: upon waking up next to a certain unexpected person, spencer barricaded himself in the bathroom, trying to piece together the events of the previous night and come to terms with the fact that he had just gotten married in Vegas.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐭𝐰: spencer reid x diva!chemist reader, non-explicit nudity, alcohol consumption, they just went with the vibe and even slept together #imbeciles, everything is spencer’s drunk and dumb idea and even he has no idea what he was trying to achieve with all of it, lots of spencer's inner monologue, and quite a lot of just awing over our gorgeous reader (can you blame him?)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 5.9k

𝐚/𝐧: shoutout to vegas anon for the idea. i’ll never stop thanking for it, it’s so dumb and it only works because it’s THEM. requests for the aftermath (and honestly the whole series) are open now <33 masterlist

There was a certain blissful feeling accompanying Spencer from the moment he cracked his eyelids open.

A blissful feeling that overshadowed something else lingering in the background—a weight pressing against his head, like the prelude to a brutal hangover that hadn’t yet caught him in its snare. A weight softened by the conditions in which he had awoken. The mattress of the bed in this upscale hotel seemed to mold perfectly to his body—naked, as it turned out. Comfortably warm, to the point where the blanket only covered a sliver of his hip, and yet he didn’t feel the slightest chill. No morning stiffness in his muscles—only relaxation…still drowsy, he rolled onto his back and realized that wasn’t entirely true. He was, in fact, sore in a few specific places, though he wouldn’t call it a bad feeling. If anything, it felt…welcome. Almost wanted.

Soon, he forgot even about that.

More precisely, when his gaze started to orient itself in space and cooperate with his sluggish mind, it almost immediately stopped on the divine sight right in front of him.

She must have woken up shortly before him. Also with skin fully exposed to the sunlight seeping through the balcony window, she lifted herself into a sitting position, shifting so she could end up face to face with him, hair flowing smoothly to one side of her head as she gently tilted it.

Looking at him, with a truly unreadable expression.

For a brief moment, Spencer’s body seemed unable to move, frozen in place.

He responded to her gaze with hesitation, but—as he had already managed to gather—they had slept together, so he should probably let go of the shyness. Let go of the shyness—he had to repeat that phrase in his mind to realize that, without taking his eyes off her, he had stopped breathing. Slowly, he let the air out, barely noticing that his lips had shaped themselves into a small, gentle smile.

“Good morning,” he finally said, his voice barely louder than a mumble, but soft.

What followed was a wave of confidence—or rather, an irresistible need to confirm that this wasn’t just a drunken dream (although he doubted that an alcohol-clouded mind would be capable of painting such a masterpiece as she was—something he had always sort of known, but only now became fully aware of)—and his hand wandered toward her, not yet knowing where it would land.

He didn’t care about any specific place—he simply wanted to feel again the miraculous smoothness of her skin and what it felt like under his fingers.

But she firmly brushed his hand away, and it felt like a slap straight to the face. Or rather, like a needle popped the blissful bubble that had surrounded him since waking. Even all the symptoms of a hangover began to come crashing down on his head like an avalanche, now that the barrier holding them back was gone.

“Oh, I’ll give you good in a minute,” she said quietly right on the dangerous edge of a hiss. Spencer blinked blankly, completely lost. The woman suddenly drew in a breath, her fingers digging into the skin at the side of her head.“I’m afraid…I have a suspicion we did something absolutely fucking stupid.”

Spencer felt his body tense up in an unpleasant way, and with it, his jaw clenched too. Not out of anger—of course not out of anger—just… ust suddenly it became so clear to him that she must really regret spending the night with him, which, to put it mildly, was a fucking awful feeling. It hit him and trapped him in its grip, a grip that only loosened when he looked into her eyes and, surprisingly, didn’t find regret there.

The first memories from the night before (a night, but not a night) started coming back to him.

And then the hand he hadn’t even realized was still hanging in the air dropped loudly onto the sheets.

“Oh fuck.”

She drilled her gaze into him.

“Oh fuck? Seriously, oh fuck is all you’ve got to say?”

“What else could you possibly say in this situation?!” he asked, his voice an octave higher, almost squeaky, as panic began to fill him, his mind bouncing off the walls of his head in chaos.

Trying to regain some composure, he lowered his head with a sigh and realized he was completely naked.

The earlier blissful, carefree, and contemplative mood was now nothing but a memory.

“I need to...I need to—”

Reid realized he wasn’t lying in bed anymore, but standing beside it, looking around for his clothes on the floor. He gathered them, pulling up the same pants at least three times, feeling so deeply awkward and pathetic that he disappeared into the bathroom, avoiding looking at her face.

It wasn’t until the door was closed, clothes slipping from his suddenly too weak hands, that he realized how hard his heart was pounding. Okay, bolting like that was honestly a pretty pathetic move on his part, but in order to even start thinking about the inevitable consequences of what they’d done the night before, he first had to force himself to open those events—lay them out—and figure out how the hell they’d even gotten there in the first place.

And he couldn’t do that while exposed to the sight of her, especially with absolutely nothing on.

And yes, they could literally have had sex just a few hours earlier, but as the alcohol was leaving his system, virtue came rushing in to take its place.

Spencer pressed his back to the door, already picturing the woman he'd just hidden from rolling her eyes in quiet disbelief and pity over how he'd acted. She was definitely going to make fun of him the second he came back out—that was a given. For now, though, he decided to focus on something else. First, he wiped a hand down his face.

You’re probably wondering how they even ended up in this situation.

Well, it all started with none other than Derek Morgan. Derek Morgan and his grand vision of proposing to his girlfriend—where else but in a massive, high-end hotel in Vegas. So what were he and she doing there? You could call it moral support for this big step in his life. Also, their presence helped throw Savannah off the scent and made the upcoming proposal a little less obvious. Besides, they just wanted to chill out in a nice hotel.

“Okay...so I was planning to do it like this.”

With those words, Morgan dropped to one knee in front of them and reached into the pocket of his black blazer to pull out the ring. It was proposal night, and the three of them were hiding out in Spencer’s room, away from Savannah, so their friend could rehearse everything one last time.

Reid looked at Morgan—down on one knee and clearly stressed out—and honestly, he didn’t have much to say. It was a knee drop. Whatever.

But there was someone who had something to say.

“No, no, no, totally not,” she said, waving both hands in dismissal and shaking her head with the face of a seasoned critic.

Spencer raised an eyebrow at her, but she ignored him completely, continuing as she motioned for Derek to get back up.

“You need to have your hand already inside your jacket as you go down on one knee. Grab the ring box then. That way it’s smoother and there’s no awkward moment of fumbling around trying to find it.”

Their friend sighed but got up and did it again—and then four more times.

They couldn’t stay there rehearsing forever, though. Eventually, the man rose for the final time, lacing his fingers behind his neck in a last wave of worry.

“What if she says no?” he asked aloud.

Reid exchanged a glance with the woman; they both knew that question was coming and that it would fall on them to say whatever it took to boost his confidence.

He even opened his mouth to start, but she beat him to it.

“You’re proposing in a restaurant,” she pointed out. “In front of dozens of people. Poor Savannah. Even if she wanted to say no, she wouldn’t, because of the pressure.”

Spencer stared at her, jaw dropping in disbelief.

“You didn’t have to say that!”

She just shrugged. Morgan stared at her for a beat before letting out a short laugh. Spencer, however, felt compelled to add:

“She’ll say yes. I mean, she loves you, you’ve been together long enough, and even statistically speaking…”

“Thank you, guys,” Derek said, glancing at his watch and sighing—the time was getting close for his date with his (hopefully) soon-to-be fiancée.

They both hugged him, wishing him luck. And there was nothing Spencer hoped for more than for everything to go exactly as planned. Because his best friend, Derek Morgan, absolutely deserved it. 

But before Derek left, he looked at them one last time, raising an eyebrow in that signature way of his.

“And you two? What are you gonna do?”

Reid had no idea what to say—he’d been so focused on Derek’s evening that he hadn’t thought about his own.

She looked at him, tilting her head slightly.

“Casino? I mean, we’re in Vegas. It’d practically be a sin not to go. Besides, I heard this guy’s pretty good with cards,” she added, raising her eyebrows at him meaningfully.

A strange wave of excitement passed through Spencer as it dawned on him—she had basically just told him she wanted to spend the evening with him.

But then he quickly grounded that feeling, telling himself it was just because she was a familiar face in a place he didn’t quite know yet. Then suddenly, another realization hit him, and this one made him uneasy. And no, it wasn’t her flattering words.

“Thing is…” he began, sighing. “I’m kind of…banned from every casino in Vegas.”

As he expected, she stared at him for a few seconds, motionless, then turned her gaze to Morgan, silently asking for confirmation. And when she found it, her eyes widened as she shook her head with a disbelieving scoff.

“Like, literally every casino in Vegas?”

 He shifted uncomfortably and gave a small nod.

“And Laughlin. And Pahrump.”

She made that scoffing sound again, and there was something accusatory in her gaze.

“And I’m only finding out about this now?”

She stood there for a moment, lost in thought as she came to terms with this new piece of information. Then she looked back at him, locking eyes—and maybe it was just his imagination, but he could’ve sworn he saw the hint of a genuine smile flash across her face.

“Well, now I have to play against you.”

Spencer finally tore himself away from the bathroom door, although he had to admit it had taken him an embarrassingly long time. What he had just opened in his mind had happened the night before, but it felt as if he were summoning a decayed memory from years ago. Still running on its fumes, he pulled on his pants, missing the leg hole on the first try and nearly toppling over on the second. Then he threw a white shirt over his back and, approaching the sink, began fastening the buttons.

When suddenly he froze—along with the breath in his chest.

He stood face to face with the mirror, and no, his hangover wasn’t so destructive that he didn’t recognize himself. On the contrary, he knew perfectly well he was looking at himself, and it made it even harder to connect the face that stared back at him every day from the subway window with the rest of his body. Or rather, with what was covering it.

A corner of his shirt slipped from between his fingers.

The first…let’s call it a signpost, since it marked the beginning of a long but consistent road, was located just below his jawline, partly overlapping it. Red, in the unmistakable shape of lips, nearly a perfect imprint. One might even think the surface had been a sheet of paper, a thin, unmoving plane — not his living, breathing skin. Funny how, instead of taking in his whole reflection at once, he gently traced his finger from one to the next, as if discovering an unexpected message written in Braille. The letters ran down his neck, chest, and stomach, fading downward into a more and more careless shape and a paler color — as if the hand that had written them had been struck by sudden inspiration and couldn’t quite keep up with all the mind wanted it to say.

Translating, of course, into nerd speak.

In reality, each next touch of her lips had simply been more impatient, wilder, and the lipstick had smudged more and more with every one of them.

The last of them were barely more than traces, faint smudges that could easily be mistaken for nothing more than flushed skin. He didn’t find out exactly where their journey had ended—when he spotted the lipstick just below his belly button, a sudden heat rushed up the back of his neck, almost instantly spilling beneath his skin and tinting it the same color as the lipstick that had marked him.

Spencer turned on the tap and nearly plunged his face under the stream of cold water.

"I've never played blackjack with just two people," the woman said.

Spencer focused on shuffling the cards carefully, yet as nonchalantly as possible. Right, he was showing off. Any problem with that?

"I've never played blackjack for drinks," he replied.

"Well, then this will be a first for both of us. You know the rules, right?"

He glanced at her briefly out of the corner of his eye, raising an eyebrow.

"Please."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to insult your skills, card king," she scoffed.

He nodded silently, holding back a smirk. He didn’t know what exactly was affecting him, not a drop of alcohol had touched his lips yet, but he felt unusually confident. And above all, in the perfect mood to take on this sarcastic dance.

"Well," he muttered, with feigned seriousness. "At least you feel remorse. Rightfully so."

Her loud chuckle echoed through every corner of the bar in their hotel. They couldn’t visit the casino, so they decided to head there together instead, to play something quietly in a secluded corner, which by no means meant it would be any less fierce. They sat across from each other, and whenever he glanced at her, and her eyes, focused on his hands dealing the cards, met his, he saw a sharp glint in them, a sign of the competition to come. 

A competition he fully intended to take on.

After nearly submerging his whole head under the faucet, droplets of water slid down the back of his neck, soaking the fabric of his white shirt. He finally managed to button it all the way up; it was visibly wrinkled — both from the eagerness with which it had been taken off and from spending the entire night lying on his bedroom floor. Spencer felt a fleeting moment of relief, during which he allowed himself exactly one calm breath.

Right after that, more pieces of the previous night pushed their way into his mind, and he had the urge to grab his past self by the shoulders for that competitive streak. His present self too, for ever having been his past self in the first place.

Drinking games have this particular trait — the drunker you get, the more often you lose. And the more often you lose, the more you’re forced to drink, which makes you lose even more — and so the cycle spins.

Spencer never had a particularly strong tolerance, mostly because he usually avoided alcohol altogether. So it didn’t take long before he began to feel the first signs of intoxication. His tongue loosened significantly, and everything he said became more chaotic — sometimes even intimate. Not in a way that he started spilling secrets or handing out his credit card number, but he was far more willing to back up a point with personal experience rather than plain statistics or scientific proof.

He was also far more willing to laugh.

Though…maybe, in that particular case, alcohol wasn’t entirely to blame.

Luckily, his card skills and a bit of luck early in the game meant that he and his companion were at roughly the same level of awareness. That is to say — drunk enough to occasionally lose track of the conversation and forget they were playing anything at all.The initial rivalry had quietly faded into the background when she suddenly glanced at the time on Spencer’s watch—still holding her cards—and fell into thought.

She looked so pretty.

It meant, well, she always looked. But that was just a statement of fact, an observation of reality.And as we've already established, drunk Reid had a much greater tendency to speak from the heart—from his worldview and feelings—not just from dry data and objectiviy.

So, yeah. She looked so pretty.

And he could stare at her!

Because when a person gets drunk, their expressions and reactions become so lethargic that what, on the inside, feels like drinking someone in with your eyes, on the outside just looks like a casual glance.

So, yeah. She looked so pretty, and he got to notice it not once, not twice, not three times, but an infinite number of times — each one sending that same otherworldly wave of awe rushing through his bones.

Bless the alcohol!

He realized she had said something to him, and like an idiot, he hadn’t even registered the movement of her lips. Which—fair enough—he had been consciously avoiding looking at. Reasons. Private.

He shook his head, snapping himself out of it, and asked her to repeat.

“Do you think it’s over already?” she repeated — surprisingly without the kind of venomous tone that would usually ask if he could maybe, just this once, listen to what she was saying.

But if she had asked that, the answer would have been yes. He could. Just not that time.Not when she had one leg crossed over the other, her foot bobbing to a rhythm only she seemed to know (which he, of course, tried to match to hundreds of songs filed in his head—eventually settling on Chopin’s Ballade in G minor, Op. 23—though it was entirely possible he was reading too much into it), not when her skin shimmered in the warm bar light, not when her head tilted gently to the side, a direction her hair seemed to follow, that evening choosing a wilder path he adored.

Seeing he was still lost, she rolled her eyes.

“The engagement,” she clarified. “Do you think it’s happened already? Did Morgan chicken out, or did he actually go through with it?”

Oh, a concrete topic of conversation. A reference to reality and their friend's character. The brain kicked in. The brain stopped being pathetic, the brain started braining. Focus returned. Spencer cleared his throat.

"Hm, it’s Morgan," he noted. Don’t judge the eloquence of this statement too quickly—it really was developing into something sensible! "Y’know, he doesn’t chicken out. I’m sure he did it. He could have totally and utterly embarrassed himself, but in the end, he did it."

"Totally and utterly embarrassed himself?" she repeated his words, looking as though she was holding back a snort of laughter, her eyebrows raised in skeptical amusement. "Don’t be so cruel to your friend. You’d probably trip over your own feet. Face first. Right in front of your fiancée."

Reid froze for a moment, for some absurd reason feeling genuinely offended by the remark. He felt a sudden duty to defend his honor in this alternate universe where he had a fiancée.

"I would not," he denied, folding his hands on the table between them and leaning forward slightly. He had already set his cards down on the table earlier, completely forgetting the game. "I could totally pull it off with real class. Even without all that planning. Just buy a ring on a whim and propose at the first opportunity, and it would still end up being the perfect proposal. Though personally, I’d prefer to have something prepared. But, you know, we’re discussing a specific scenario here."

She didn’t look even the slightest bit convinced, no matter how much drunken conviction and seriousness he was pouring into his words. She just nodded, with a mockingly sympathetic kind of agreement.

“Mhm. Sure you would,” she muttered.

Spencer’s fingers tapped nervously against the surface of the table between them, trying to shake off the wildly silly idea creeping into his thoughts. It wasn’t just silly—it was completely unnecessary and, if anything, didn’t prove a damn thing. Even his own arguments weren’t convincing him.

His hand suddenly stopped mid-tap, coming to rest flat on the wood. “I can prove it to you,” he declared.

“Prove what? That you can bend one knee? Spencer, baby, you’re not quite old enough for that to impress me.”

“That I can do it properly,” he clarified, not even bothering to roll his eyes at her jab. “Do it right the first time—what Morgan spent an hour rehearsing with us in the hotel room. Reach for the ring at the perfect moment…”

“...sounds like someone was taking notes.”

“...and not fall on my face in the process. Do it all smoothly. So,” he shrugged, feeling unexpectedly nonchalant about the whole thing—which only made her watch him more closely, with a flicker of curiosity in her gaze, eyes focused solely on him, like nothing else around them mattered. For a second, it was easy to forget there were other people in the bar at all.

“Show me one of them,” he said, tilting his head toward her hands. She followed his gaze to the rings scattered across her fingers.

A moment of silence passed before she looked back up at him. Her expression suggested she was fully aware of how ridiculous the situation was, and yet…something in her wouldn’t let her end it. Slowly, she bit her lower lip in thought before slipping one ring off her left ring finger and pushing it into his hand—no hesitation, with a challenge. 

“Lights, camera, action,” she said.

The ring suddenly seemed to weigh a ton in his grip, burdened now by the full weight of Spencer's own idiocy. He had no idea what he was doing—indulging some stupid, alcohol-fueled whim that was meant to be a joke, and yet it settled over him with a strange kind of pressure. For the three seconds he remained in place, unmoving, a weird sensation twisted in his stomach, and he suddenly understood why Morgan had been so scared earlier. He practically had to yell at himself mentally. None of this was real.

So he got to work playing out their little scene, dropping to one knee after first slipping his hand under his blazer to mimic pulling the ring out from beneath it.

A heavy, awkward silence fell—for him, at least—as he suddenly realized he had no idea what to say.

She had been sitting with one leg crossed over the other, but now adjusted so that her knees touched. Her gaze pinned him down even further into the floor he was already kneeling on, though not in a humiliating way—more of a grounding one. With one corner of her mouth curled up, she leaned in slightly, speaking in a quieter tone.

“And how do you want me to react in our scenario?” she asked, tilting her head slightly. “Are we playing our friends now? Do you want me to do it the way I think Savannah would?”

"No," he said quickly. He wasn’t playing anyone else in that moment. As if this were real. He shook his head sharply, side to side. "No. I want you to react like you."

Her brows rose slowly and steadily, the rest of her face remaining almost completely unchanged.

“Like me if you were proposing to me right now?” she asked. Without waiting for confirmation, she let out a laugh. “I’d laugh in your face.”

Spencer didn’t even feel offended. He knew that’s exactly how she would react—she didn’t even need to say it. His sigh carried nothing but impatience, mostly because he hadn’t anticipated having to kneel for this long.

“C’mon. Just use your acting skills. I can pretend I want to spend the rest of my life with you, so you can pretend you’re in love with me.”

Another long stretch of stillness and silence from her. But it lacked any trace of awkwardness or discomfort. He started to wonder if she was doing it on purpose—keeping him in that position just to mess with him. If anyone was watching them—and someone probably was—they’d likely assume she was going through the greatest dilemma of her life, weighing all the pros and cons in her head. Wondering if she loved him. Their thoughts, not his.

“How much in love?” she asked.

Reid closed his eyes in frustration. Yep, she was definitely doing it on purpose. He shook his head, not even knowing what he could possibly say to that.

“You decide,” he said shortly—because really, that was the least important part.

Seriously, whatever.

Apparently not for her. She was still staring at him thoughtfully, not moving, not blinking—until finally, she did.

Spencer was sure this was it—that she would extend her hand, finger outstretched, so he could slip the ring onto it. The same ring he’d been holding out between them all this time. He even lifted his other hand, ready to do it smoothly, just like he promised.

But that wasn’t why she moved.

One second she was in her chair, the next she threw herself into his arms with an exaggerated, emotional sigh.

The suddenness and speed of it nearly knocked him off balance. He wobbled and had to drop to both knees to steady himself. Her arms locked tightly around his neck, her hair brushing his face, her scent flooding his senses.Over her shoulder, he saw his own hands frozen in the air. Hesitating, unsure whether to let them fall against her back. One of them still held the ring.

It simply froze him in shock. And he was the one who in such a cocky way told her to use her acting skills. A wave of self-pity washed over him, questioning what he had even wanted to achieve with all of this. Then she pulled away. Wrists crossed on the back of his neck, a brief meeting of their eyes, calling him an idiot and a reminder, a reminder with a small sigh, that it was him who had proposed this game. And then she kissed him.

Well, the way she did it was too monumental for him to keep his hands in the air. He closed the ring in a secure fist, as if it really were an engagement ring, both hands settling on her lower back to keep them from tipping backward.

“I thought you’d never do it,” she pulled away in the span of a second, speaking before he had time to open his eyes. When he did, he blinked and exhaled. Okay—more like gasped for air. “Ten years, fourteen weeks and three days. That’s how long I’ve waited for that ring. I was beginning to suspect you were just playing with me.”

Her loud voice, the fake outrage, and the completely made-up role. She was—she was brilliant.

And he was Spencer Reid, considered a genius, but in his own way, very, very stupid. Her lips looked at him again, and as he slid the ring onto her finger, he wondered whether anything he did now could still be counted as acting. She stretched out her hand, pretending to admire a massive diamond the ring didn’t even have.

You could feel the script slowly making its way to the end, and soon they'd be forced to get up and argue about whether he’d managed to make a point or not (he hadn’t), so he leaned in to cover her smile with his mouth. But before he could, someone appeared above them.

They both turned their faces toward her, wearing identical expressions—as if someone had stomped into their living room in muddy boots while they were sipping tea from delicate floral cups.

“Congratulations,” said some woman with a somewhat uncertain smile. She scratched the back of her neck. “You really do make a great couple. I mean, good-looking. You fit together. Did you know this hotel has its own chapel?”

In their very strong defense, they only went there after a few more drinks—when neither of them could’ve spelled the word M-A-R-R-I-A-G-E let alone remembered what it meant.

Time kept passing, and Spencer’s fingers were still struggling with the same button on his shirt. Eventually, he let out a heavy sigh and just gave up, no longer caring that half of his chest was exposed. He was acting like they hadn’t just seen each other naked a few hours earlier. Like they hadn’t woken up in that exact state, in the same bed, right next to each other. Still, he found it oddly difficult to leave his hiding spot—meaning the bathroom—not yet ready to face a certain possibility he still hoped wasn’t real.

They couldn’t have actually gotten married.

It had to be a dream. Just one of those hyper-realistic dreams that bleed into reality a little too well. And if it was a dream, then—sure, still questionable, but nowhere near as bad as actually getting married! In Vegas, no less, driven by nothing but alcohol, and not to the love of his life, but to… to…her. His hand was resting on the doorknob, but he couldn’t bring himself to press it down, too overwhelmed to make even the slightest move.

He shook his head, trying—unsuccessfully—to shake it all off, and with his jaw clenched, he stepped out of the bathroom.

Spencer wasn’t even going to pretend his eyes didn’t immediately land on her. He’d expected—was absolutely certain—that by now she would’ve done exactly what he just had. Got dressed, remembered everything, went through the initial shock and, riding its fumes, started wondering what came next. But that didn’t seem to be the case.

She was sitting on the bed in the exact same state he’d found her in when she woke up, only covered by the curtain of loose hair, rubbing at her calf—which was exactly where Reid’s gaze ended up lingering. There was a sizable bruise blooming there.

“No idea where that came from,” she muttered, more to herself than to him. She didn’t even look his way, and his steps were quiet.

A dumb little Oh slipped out of Spencer’s mouth, and only then did he manage to draw her attention.

“I know where that came from,” he said, swallowing hard. “It, um. You hit your leg when you were going over the chapel threshold. I mean, when I was carrying you over the chapel threshold.”

Their eyes met—long, steady, and real—for the first time that morning.

“Fuck.”

“Fuck.”

Spencer wiped a hand down his face, only now truly confronted with all of it. They had to… they had to… what did you even do in a situation like this? He paced the room in a tight, restless circle.

“This is stupid, we’re so incredibly stupid, who even let us do this, how could we—” he burst out, voice high with panic. He threw his arms stiffly to the sides, overwhelmed as another terrible thought struck him. “And we’re leaving today, I don’t know if we’ll even be able to get it annulled…”

He lost his train of thought watching her stretch out her legs on the bed, as if she were about to get up—but she didn’t. Her entire face was drawn in sharp, quiet fury, the kind of look that could burn straight through the fabric of his shirt, just to punch him in the gut with an invisible fist and set him straight. Not to undress him.

“I’ll tell you what we’re going to do,” she said slowly, with a firm little nod—like she had already crafted the one and only logical solution. “Sit down.”

Spencer looked at her without even a shred of belief that she might be right. Everything was too illogical for her to come up with a logical solution that quickly. First, they needed to focus.

“Maybe you could put something on?”

“I said sit. Your pacing around like a pissed-off fly isn’t helping me think.”

Frustrated, he raised both hands, ready to snap something back at the fly comparison, even opened his mouth, but suddenly everything felt so senseless he just let them fall loosely at his sides. And yes, he sat.

“Happy now?” he asked bitterly, taking a seat right at the edge of the mattress, so that there was a practically professional distance between them. As if they were representatives of two opposing factions who had just realized they weren’t up against each other, but something fucked up on a completely different, worse level than anyone could’ve assumed. Which didn’t mean they suddenly liked each other. “So I’m listening. Tell me what we’re going to do, because I—mark this moment, I don’t say this often—I don’t know—”

“Shut up. I’ll tell you what we’re doing,” she repeated once more, eyes locked on him and barely blinking. The irritation was radiating off her and only slightly faded when, after a long moment of silence, her chest rose and fell in a deep breath. “First of all, not a word to Morgan. We’re about to see him, we’ll let him go on and on about his engagement, congratulate him, smile, and don’t you dare say a word about this, you hear me?”

Spencer responded to her hard stare with one of his own, though the sharpness in his gaze faltered, and he caught himself giving a small nod.

“Makes sense. I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t survive his comments. And the jokes. And those looks, especially those looks…” He almost shuddered just at the thought.

Her reaction was identical.

“Second of all…” she continued, suddenly snorting, “second and actually, last. We’re going home. First thing we do after leaving the airport is…”

“...divorce.”

“...picking up the cat from Penelope. Then divorce. I really hope you don’t have any objections to that.”

His mouth fell open, the scoff catching in his throat.

“What possible objections could I have to that?” he asked, his voice practically dripping with sarcasm.

She gave a casual shrug.

“Good then,” she replied. Her back slowly sank into the mattress with exhaustion, and as her head hit the pillow, she let out a low, groggy sigh. “Since it’s all settled, I’m going back to sleep. It’s too early.”

She turned her back to him, lying on her side. Spencer stared at her spine, genuinely unable to believe that after everything, she could just lie down and fall asleep like it was nothing. It struck him as almost dismissive, and for a moment, a wave of anger surged within him—only to fade just as quickly.

Because really, what else were they supposed to do?

He, personally, didn’t have it in him to follow her lead—his mind was far too loud for that. But after a long moment of stillness, the mattress dipped under his weight as well.

Right on the edge, his hands folded on his stomach, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

[himbodruid]

Blooming Fissures

Caleb x Reader

His return shattered everything you tried to bury. But some fissures don’t break; they bloom.

this is how i feel their reunion should’ve gone

INTENDED FOR 18+ READERS. MINORS DNI

･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ⋆｡°✩･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･

“Kick me, hit me, scream at me,” he begged, his voice quivering with barely contained emotion. “Please, anything but this silence.”

You stood, staring at him without a single word. Just as you had been since he ushered you into his condo. Drinking him in, unable to remember how long it had been since you last saw him. It felt like a lifetime, but realistically it was probably only about eight months. You hadn’t even had the time to fully grieve, not after fully throwing yourself into your work to forget. But everything came crashing back into you all at once.

He was older, definitely, but something in your brain was almost too scared to believe that the man in front of you was the same Caleb you knew and loved. His jaw was more defined, eyes more tired, and he was fucking massive. He’d always been a giant to you, but now he had bulked out considerably while he’d been off doing fuck all.

“How fucking dare you,” you manage to say, your voice trembling. You couldn’t stand the way he was looking at you, like a heartbroken puppy. “You don’t get to stand there looking at me like that.”

You strode forward, giving him a reaction- like he wanted- when your fist collided with his rock-hard chest. “Do you have any idea what you put me through? How devastated I was when they told me they couldn’t find your body? How I lost hope after every passing day of seeing you alive again? And then you have the audacity to be alive after all this fuckin’ time?”

Each furious question was punctuated by another strike of your fists. Tears stung your eyes, but you stubbornly refused to let them fall. And all the while, he stood there, taking in your fury, your pain. He let you hit him, didn’t dare to react, didn’t even flinch, and instead he let you vent against him in whatever way you needed. The expression he wore was stricken, and you couldn’t bear to see it.

It was a surprise to you both when you stood up on your toes to crush your mouth against his. In a fit of heightened emotion, you’d given in to an impulse that you’d kept locked away since you were teenagers. Shock rippled through him, making him freeze, surprise evident in the wide eyed stare he gave you when you pulled away.

“You asshole,” you said before diving back in, giving no care to the rejection you all but expected with the way that he stood stock still.

Then his composure cracked and he was hauling you against him. You clawed at him, trying to climb him like a damn tree. Your chest pressed against him, you were already so impossibly close, but it still wasn’t enough. His mouth devoured you, coaxing you open to tangle his tongue with yours. You pulled away from him, but only to rip his shirt over his head, only for him to do the same to you immediately after.

Clothing was shed and scattered until he had your bare ass against a short bookshelf. He gave no hesitation in plunging his cock into you, and you cried out when the pleasure rippled through you. Fuck, how he filled you. It was more than you ever could have hoped.

He set a frantic, desperate pace. You clung to him, ignoring things that fell from the bookshelf. When the shelf itself heaved to the side and threatened collapse from your combined weight and vigor, he dragged you away from it. A short distance away, two strides at most, and he had you against his desk.

His pace didn’t decrease in the transition, the solid build of the desk inviting him to slam into you even harder. Items scattered from the surface, clattering to the ground while each thrust violently crashed the rear edge of the desk into the wall. He buried his face in your neck, his grunting moans fanning across your skin in heated puffs of breath.

“F-fuck,” he groaned, circling his arms around your waist to crush you against him. “You feel so fuckin’ good.”

You dropped your head back, cries echoing in the room as his mouth latched onto your thundering pulse. Clawing into his back didn’t deter him, just encouraged him to plow into you harder. With thighs cradling his torso, you locked your ankles behind his back. All you could do was cling to him while he drove hard into you, calling out his name with every forceful thrust.

“Fuck, I’m gonna-“ he groaned into your ear. “W-where?”

“In,” you breathe, clinging to him more firmly.

“Y’sure?”

“Yes! Fuck, Caleb! I need you to cum in me,” you cry, feeling pleasure rippling through you with every strike of his cock. At your command, he buried himself into you as deep as he could go. With a guttural shout, his body shuddered and he spilled into you. The pulsing twitch of his cock ripped your own climax from you, cascading flutters of your walls milking him for everything he had to give.

He leaned hard on a hand placed firmly on the desktop, crushing his mouth against yours. You dug your nails into him, squeezing your walls around him.

“More,” you growled into his mouth, earning a heated whimper from him. He obeyed without question, hips already colliding against yours again.

Desperate. Frenzied. Carnal. All words that would describe the way he fucked you, as if years of pent up desire between both of you finally found a release. As if the world would end tomorrow and this was the only chance either of you would ever get.

He took you against every flat surface, crashing into you with quick rhythmic snaps of his hips. Short grunting moans erupted from him with every hard thrust, while you were left breathless from the pleasure that coursed through you. Reason escaped you as the anger-fueled sex turned into primal mating. You forgot why you were even mad at him in the first place, all your focus turned to the way he fucked you.

His stamina was bullshit. While he wrenched climax after climax from you, he still had enough to keep plunging into you. Even when he would slam forward to spill into you, he would just start right back up again at the smallest of nudges from you. Even when his breathing turned ragged and sweat trickled down his chest, he kept going, bucking into you with whole body shudders when another release steamrolled him.

Until, finally, he slumped against you, panting as he dropped his head onto your shoulder. He had you back on his desk after making rounds throughout his apartment, a trail of destruction following your path. Even the poor bookshelf finally succumbed to your combined ardor and collapsed. You carded your hands through his hair, trying to catch your breath alongside him.

“Fuck,” he whimpered against your neck, pressing his hips flush against yours as he nuzzled you. “I want you so goddamn badly, but I don’t think I can handle anymore.”

“We have all the time in the world now,” you murmured, kissing his neck and coming away with the salty tang of him on your lips.

“It’s still not enough,” he complained, pulling away only enough to rest his forehead against yours.

“But it’s enough to shower and rest,” you chuckle. He huffed a short laugh, leaning in to give a quick kiss before he hauled you into his arms and carried you off to his bathroom.

Even under the hot spray of water, neither of you could keep your hands to yourself.

***

Later, when you were settled- quite naked- in his bed, you watched with keen interest as he left the room. Completely unashamed in his nudity, you couldn’t stop your eyes from raking down his fine figure. You marveled at the imposing physique he had, and briefly wondered if his bulk came from his time in the DAA, or if he honed himself into a weapon on his own. You never paid too close attention when you were younger, never indulged in the fantasies that roamed freely in your head as a teen when it came to him. But he was considerably larger than you remembered, his shoulders more broad and muscles more defined.

He returned moments later with glasses of water, and you averted your gaze with a blaze spreading across your face. Bites, scratches, and purpling marks made by your mouth and fingers decorated his skin, just as numerous as the marks he made on you. But that wasn’t what had you blushing like mad and looking away.

How can he still be hard after all that?

You wanted to jump him again. You wanted him to jump you. But you kept your hands to yourself, proud that you could accomplish this small feat. Even when he sat at the edge of the bed and handed you the water. Your hands twitched, but you forced them to stay busy by grabbing the glass instead of him.

“I never dared to hope to have you like this,” he said reverently. The pad of his thumb brushed against your lip and his eyes zeroed in on the movement. That keen gaze followed his hand as it trailed down your body. “I always kept this craving I had for you sequestered away, locked in my dreams.”

You sat up fully and set your glass aside, unable to stop yourself now from indulging in your own craving. Even after the frenzied fucking that left half of his house in disarray, you still hadn’t had enough of him. Your hand snaked around the back of his neck, pulling him into you so you could slant your mouth over his.

He kissed you languidly, drawing out a fire within you in slow measure. It was a stark contrast to your earlier foray, sending shoots of pleasure through you just from that simple contact. He pulled back, searching your face. You didn’t know what he searched for, but he stared at you in awe, as if he couldn’t believe you were in front of him. As if he couldn’t believe he was here with you, right now. He cupped your face, the pad of his thumb swiping against your cheek before he leaned into you again.

His bulk settled over you, pressing you into the mattress. His weight was like an anchor, confirming that this wasn’t some wild dream. He was here, he was real. His arms caging you, the strength of his shoulders and back under your exploring hands, his hips wonderfully tucked between your thighs- all of it was real.

This time when he took you, it was with such reverent worship that it made your heart pound harder than when he was plunging into you with primal ferocity. Each slow, full stroke was punctuated by a breathless moan escaping you. His hands weren't roaming, grasping, like they were earlier. Instead they cradled your head while his mouth claimed yours, devouring the sounds you made.

Your grip on him tightened, fingers clutching his hair while the other hand dug into his shoulder. Your legs wrapped more firmly around his waist, heels locking against his back. He obliged your silent command, every forward stroke lingering as a hard press against your pelvis before slipping away. The pace of his thrusts increased only slightly, instead offering friction over speed.

“C-Caleb,” you whimpered, dangling on the precipice of completion.

“Yes,” he groaned, somehow knowing exactly what you needed.

His hips jerked forward, driving as deep as he can. The climax was simultaneous, the twitching pulse of his cock matching the fluttering thrum of your walls as you shattered around him. You threw your head back into his pillows, arching beneath him while pure pleasure thundered through you. His moans spilled from him against the column of your throat, his hot breath fanning across your skin and raising goosebumps. You’d coupled with him multiple times in a matter of hours, but this was the most intense orgasm yet.

While the pair of you came down from the high, he nuzzled into your neck and peppered you with kisses wherever he could reach. Exhaustion tugged at you, but you resisted it in favor of stroking a hand through his hair, reveling in the softness you found. A sound rumbled in his chest, so similar to a cat’s purr that it had you chuckling. He lifted his head, a smile on his face that lit up the galaxy in his eyes.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, kissing you so tenderly that it was nearly painful. He rolled off you, tugging you into his embrace. You snuggled into him, letting his warmth envelope you.

“I’m still mad at you,” you grumble as sleep threatened to take you. You felt him kiss the top of your head with a soft chuckle.

“I know,” he said softly, tightening his hold on you.

For the first time in a long time, you slept without threat of nightmares.

[arielluva]

i like how the windows 10 photo app just. broke after updating my computer! that's awesome! i tried to repair AND reset it and it won't open any of my images!! yippee!!!!!!!! so awesome!

[enviedear]

while not abnormal, it was strange having jason out so long. you've managed to will yourself to perform menial tasks to pass the time, laundry, picking up your boyfriend’s books, sharpening his knives.

anything to fight the urge to be that girlfriend. in actuality, you're not, and you trust JASON TODD more than anyone.

you simply…miss him. in a different way than when he's out on patrol. no, tonight—while he's out with his friends—you selfishly miss him more than when his life's on the line. because at least then, he’s working. serving a purpose. and you can't really fault that.

but drinks with roy and dick? that’s leisure. that’s laughter and warmth and something you selfishly crave as much as you can. you try not to stare at your phone. somehow successful. but the moment you hear the front door open and the soft shuffle of boots against hardwood, you're practically at attention.

he stumbles a little—just a little—and kicks the door shut behind him. hoodie down, jacket open, trademark black tee, cheeks absolutely flushed. his eyes are trained on you, soft and glossy.

“hi, sweetheart.” he says, voice a little too loud for the quiet apartment. “miss me?”

you blink at him from the couch, blanket still pulled over your lap. “you’re drunk.”

he grins, the corners of his eyes wrinkling. “little bit.”

you tilt your head, watching him, skeptical. “you drove?”

“nope,” he says, popping the ‘p’ as he drops his keys in the bowl by the door. “dick called us a ride. he’s annoying like that.”

“responsible, you mean.”

jason points to you, swaying just a bit. “that too.”

he trudges toward you with all the grace of a man who’s fought off armed gangs but now can’t quite coordinate his feet. the couch dips and groans when he crashes beside you. he immediately flops sideways into your lap with a dramatic groan, stifled by your sweatshirt and blanket.

“ugh. my girl.” he mumbles, face smooshed against your thigh. “missed you.”

you fight the smile curling at your lips, running a hand through his hair. “you smell like cheap whiskey, todd.”

“it was expensive whiskey.” he says into your leg, offended.

you hum, fingers dragging gently along his scalp. “you hungry?”

“nah. full of street vendor shit—buncha bad decisions.”

you laugh quietly, smoothing your thumb over the little scar near his temple. “you good?”

he rolls onto his back, head still pillowed by your thighs, blinking up at you like you hung the stars, “m’okay. just tired. and maybe a little tipsy...and definitely in love with you.”

your breath catches, eyes softening. he's too good at this—really. he says it so casually, so sweetly, it knocks the wind right out of your chest.

“…yeah?” you ask softly.

“mhm,” he coos, eyes fluttering shut. “love you so much it’s stupid.”

writer's note .☘︎ ݁˖ you mfs loved drunk!reader and jason so ofc i had to give you drunk!jason. he's hot and i missed writing for him!! i'm glad to be back from my break—i hope you like my first little writing back! if you do—consider reblogging and/or commenting <3

@bunyx-kiss 4 u, thank you for wanting it !!

🖇️ masterlist | askbox | recent works

[jellofish-plant]

Rest in Red

Pairing: Jason Todd (Red Hood) x Reader

Summary: Sleeping next to Jason Todd is never boring. From his protective instincts to his late-night vulnerability, every night with him is an unpredictable mix of comfort, restlessness, and quiet love. Whether he’s pulling you closer in his sleep, mumbling sweet nothings without realizing it, or fighting his own inner demons, one thing is certain Jason sleeps best when he’s with you.

[Masterlist]

Sleeping Headcanons with Jason Todd x Reader

Big Spoon Energy:  Jason loves being the big spoon. He won’t say it outright, but holding you close makes him feel grounded. Even on nights when he’s restless, having you in his arms calms him down.

Restless Sleeper: Thanks to his past (and, let’s be real, his terrible sleep schedule), Jason doesn’t sleep deeply. He tosses and turns a lot, and if he’s had a bad night, he might wake up in a cold sweat. But the moment you reach for him, he relaxes almost instantly.

Protective Even in Sleep: His arms are always around you, even unconsciously. If you move, he tightens his hold slightly, as if making sure you’re still there. If he senses any kind of disturbance (like a weird noise outside), he’s alert in seconds, ready to protect you.

Sleeps Better With You: Before you, Jason was used to sleeping alone or barely sleeping at all. Now? The bed feels empty without you. If you’re not there, he either stays up waiting or texts you to come back ASAP.

Mumbling in His Sleep: If he’s in a deep sleep, Jason sometimes mumbles. It’s usually just low, incoherent grumbles, but on rare occasions, you’ll catch him murmuring your name or telling you he loves you without even realizing it.

Forehead Kisses Before Sleep: No matter how tired he is, Jason always presses a lazy kiss to your forehead before drifting off. It’s his silent way of saying, I love you, and I’m glad you’re here.

Late-Night Talks: Some nights, neither of you can sleep, so you just lay there, whispering about anything and everything. Jason opens up the most during these moments, sharing thoughts he wouldn’t say in the daylight.

Mornings Are a Struggle: Jason is not a morning person. If you try to get up early, he’ll groan, pull you back into his arms, and mumble, “Five more minutes.” (Five minutes actually means an hour.)

Post-Mission Crashes: After a long night as Red Hood, Jason sometimes just collapses into bed with you, too exhausted to move. You’ll have to help him take off his boots or jacket, and he’ll murmur a soft, “You’re the best,” before immediately passing out.

Nightmares & Comfort: Jason’s past still haunts him, and sometimes he wakes up in a panic. When that happens, he grips onto you like you’re his lifeline. If you run your fingers through his hair and whisper soothing words, he’ll calm down, murmuring a quiet “Thanks, babe” before falling back asleep.

Unexpected Softness: For someone so tough and battle-worn, Jason is incredibly soft when he sleeps. His breathing evens out, his usually furrowed brows relax, and his grip on you becomes gentle. It’s one of the only times he truly looks at peace.

tag list:

@a-brilliante-mariposa

[writeriguess]

hiii may I request katsuki x reader where he has to go to a work trip overseas and reader stays home, where she finds out she’s pregnant (or it could be the other way around, we stan prohero reader) 🥹 ofc when he comes back she has the news prepared, please tooth rooting fluff 🫶🫶

Future Little Explosive

Katsuki Bakugo had been gone for just over a week on an overseas work trip, and it was already driving you insane. He called every night, making sure you were eating properly, locking up before bed, and not overworking yourself. He was as gruff as ever, muttering complaints about jet lag and how annoying his colleagues were, but you could hear the longing behind every word. He missed you. And there was something you hadn’t told him yet—something that made every call feel heavier with a secret.

You were pregnant.

The realization had hit you two days after he left, when your body felt off in a way that couldn’t be ignored. The nausea, the exhaustion, the unusual cravings—it all clicked together. A few tests later, and there it was: two solid pink lines staring right back at you. You had spent the following days in a mix of shock, excitement, and pure anticipation, thinking of how to tell Katsuki the life-changing news. You could already imagine his reaction—equal parts disbelief and sheer pride.

You had started picking at your meals more, wondering if you should change your diet already. You found yourself resting your hands over your stomach absentmindedly, marveling at the fact that a tiny life was growing inside you. The thought made you emotional at odd moments, and you cursed your hormones when you teared up over something as simple as dropping a spoon. More than anything, though, you wished Katsuki was home to experience this with you.

By the time he was due to return home, you had everything planned. You wanted it to be perfect—something that would catch him off guard in the best way possible. You decorated the living room subtly, nothing too flashy because you knew your husband would immediately be suspicious if he walked into something too extravagant. Instead, you placed a small, neatly wrapped box on the kitchen counter with a onesie inside that read: Future Little Explosive.

When the front door finally swung open, you practically ran to him, throwing your arms around his neck as he grunted in surprise, his strong arms instantly securing you against him. He smelled like the airport and faintly of smoke, but to you, it was the most comforting scent in the world.

“Missed me that much, huh?” His voice was low, teasing, but there was a tenderness behind it that only you ever got to hear.

“You have no idea,” you murmured, breathing in his scent. It had been too long without him.

He kissed your forehead before stepping back, scanning you up and down with narrowed eyes. “You look different.”

Your heart jumped, but you played it cool. “Long week.”

As he dropped his bags by the door and toed off his boots, you grabbed his hand, tugging him toward the kitchen. “C’mere, I got you something.”

He raised an eyebrow but followed without protest, his sharp crimson eyes flicking to the small box on the counter. “What’s this?”

“Open it and see.”

With a skeptical huff, he tugged at the ribbon and lifted the lid. His brows furrowed at first as he pulled out the tiny onesie, turning it over in his hands. The room was silent for a moment, and you watched as realization dawned on his face.

His grip on the fabric tightened slightly, eyes flicking up to meet yours, wide and searching. “Wait… are you serious?”

You nodded, tears already pricking at your eyes. “Yeah, Katsuki. We’re having a baby.”

For a second, he just stared, his jaw clenching like he was trying to keep his emotions in check. His fingers trembled slightly around the fabric, his breath shaky. And then, with no warning, he surged forward, crashing his lips against yours in a kiss that was all passion, relief, and overwhelming love.

“Holy shit,” he breathed against your lips, pulling back just enough to rest his forehead against yours. “You’re serious?”

You let out a watery laugh, nodding. “Dead serious.”

A rare, unguarded smile broke across his face, something so raw and full of emotion that it made your heart swell. His hands, which had always been rough and calloused from years of hero work, were gentle as they moved to rest on your stomach. His touch was hesitant at first, like he couldn’t believe it was real. Then, he pressed his palm fully against you, his warmth seeping through your clothes.

“We’re gonna have a little brat running around, huh?” His voice was softer now, almost in awe.

You placed your hands over his. “Yeah, we are.”

He exhaled sharply, then let out a low chuckle, shaking his head in disbelief. “Shit, I’m gonna be a dad.”

“Yeah, you are.”

For once, he seemed lost for words. His usual cocky attitude had melted away into something far more vulnerable, and it made you love him even more. He pulled you in again, holding you like he never wanted to let go. And in that moment, you knew—this was the beginning of something incredible.

[rindreamery]

more than friends?

moments that make you reconsider if you’re really just friends with blue lock men. featuring: itoshi rin, itoshi sae, michael kaiser, oliver aiku ─ content: can be determined as mostly gn! reader. can count as fluff, but mostly suggestive. mentions of alcohol consumption (aiku), mentions of a dress (kaiser, implied but not stated fem! reader), kaiser is mean

note. haven't made a hc post in a hot minute. situationships hc coming next cus i unfortunately, oddly enough, like situationships LMAOO i also just have too many irl situationship inspo

an almost kiss with itoshi rin.

“rin, can you help me get this?” turning your body to face him, the words die in your throat.

you realize a second too late that he’s standing right behind you, reaching for whatever you asked him to previously— and you almost crash right into his chest. he’s close. so close that you can feel the heat emanating from his skin, despite the blast of the air conditioning above you. that you can practically feel his shallow breaths ghost over your face. 

as he brings his arm down to hand you the book, head tilting down to look at you, you lock eyes. a second passes, or two, before it clicks in his mind what position you’re in. and you both freeze, seemingly frozen in place, and in time. 

rin’s eyes widen, and his breath gets caught in his throat, audibly hitching. but he doesn’t take a step back, nor does he make any move to put some comfortable distance between the two of you. though, to be fair, neither do you— keeping you stuck in whatever weird space the two of you have put yourselves in.  

the first one to break eye contact is you. your eyes flit to his lips, watching as they part to take a breath, before you can even process exactly what you’re doing. you stare a little too long, lingering for a second longer than necessary. before your eyes fly back to his in a panic, only to see that he’s staring at your lips too. 

it feels like you’re blacking out— and maybe, you are. you don’t remember the exact moment when your body started gravitating towards him, or when he started leaning in a little closer too. your bodies seemingly move on their own, listening to your hearts and not your minds, ignoring the blatant alarms going off in your heads. you’re leaning in, just a little, inching slowly and testing for any reaction from him. you can see his adam’s apple bob as he gulps, and you see the exact moment his eyes cloud over, before he’s mirroring you. you think for a second that, maybe, this is really happening. 

his lips are a breath away, and the distance between you is almost nonexistent. you can practically feel his lips on yours— so close, almost there. just a little more and you’ll have a taste. he's closing the gap, your eyes fluttering shut in response, and so does his, in tandem. the rush of excitement you feel is undeniable— the way your nerves fire with sparks under your skin, tingling. 

but then your phone rings.

the shrill sound of your ringtone cuts through the air, snapping the two of you out of your daze. your eyes fly open, and you both jerk back immediately, trying to put as much distance between you two as possible. the moment is effectively ruined; the thick, hazy, palpable tension that once surrounded the two of you is now filled with an awkward, uncertain air. 

as you both pull away, neither of you say anything, too flustered to speak. he’s avoiding looking into your eyes, staring at the ground as if he were wishing it would swallow him whole. and, really, you can’t judge. you’re looking everywhere but rin, trying to calm your heart into something that doesn’t feel like arrhythmia. 

there’s an unspoken agreement that hangs in the air— a silent promise that neither of you will bring this up ever again, too afraid to risk your friendship. but, deep down, you know it’s something neither of you can forget.

receiving jewelry from itoshi sae.

gifts from sae were always unexpected and random. 

in his hand is a simple, and undeniably beautiful necklace— something he knows you like. something he's heard you talk about for months, seen on opened tabs on your laptop as he passes by, heard in conversations with friends during your phone calls. it was always something he’d kept in the back of his mind, always an open tab in his phone. even offering to buy it for you before, in passing, which was met with a hard ‘no’ from you. still, he pushes his hand to you, offering the gift now. 

“sae,” you hesitate, words trailing off as you figure out what to say. speechless would be an understatement. feeling grateful, in awe, and mildly embarrassed all at once. you can feel your cheeks heating up, looking at the necklace in his hands as you avoid his watchful eyes. “i already said you didn’t have to buy it for me. i was going to buy it… eventually.”

“want me to put it on you?” your words fly over his head, or maybe, he’s simply ignoring it. 

you press your lips into a line, finally looking into his eyes, as you hold in a shallow sigh of defeat— already coming to terms that, regardless of what you say, nothing would change his mind. so instead you nod, offering him a small and thankful smile, finally accepting the gift. 

“turn around,” he tells you, fingers already working on unclasping the necklace in his hands. you listen, turning around and waiting with baited breath as he moves to stand behind you. he inches closer than necessary, looming behind you in a way that makes you so hyperaware of him. the feeling of his fingers as they brush over your shoulder to loop the necklace around you, his steady breath on the nape of your neck— you feel it all at an elevated level. 

you gasp as the cool metal of the necklace hits your skin, in contrast to the warmth of his fingers as they make work of the clasp. it takes a few seconds, before you feel the clasp fall against your neck, but his fingers stay on your skin. tracing the line of the necklace as it travels to the junction of your shoulder. 

“do you like it?” sae leans down, whispering the words into your ears. you ignore the warmth that sweeps over your body, holding tight onto the necklace between your fingers, admiring the way it looks against your skin. 

“yeah, i do. it’s perfect.” you nod, your voice quiet and weak, unable to focus from the way your head starts to spin at the proximity. you can hear him let out a satisfied hum behind you, leaning back just a little to give you some space. “thank you, really.”

but he doesn’t pull away, and you feel his eyes on your neck as you twiddle with the jewelry in your fingers. 

unreasonable jealousy from michael kaiser.

“does this dress look nice?” pulling out a dress from deep in your closet, you pull it closer to your body before facing kaiser. 

he sits comfortably on your bed, resting on the headrest as he scrolls through his phone, looking bored out of his mind. his eyes are hooded, body slumped, and sighing loudly every five minutes as if urging you to get this over with. though, you suppose in his defense, you’d been doing this for the past two hours. with little to no progress being made. 

never putting his phone down, he glances at you, then the dress, and then back at you. there’s an unamused expression on his face, both brows raising imperceptibly and letting out a derisive laugh, and it makes the smile on your face falter for a second. “why are you trying so hard to impress this guy, anyway?” as hard as he tries to hide the contempt in his voice, trying to mask it with his usual mocking tone, it slips through. “next dress.”

you blink, caught off guard by the sudden edge in his voice, an elusive frown forming on your face. "what do you mean?" you ask, suppressing a sigh as your arms fall to your side, the fabric of the dress bunching up as you grip it between your fingers.

you don’t want to put it down yet— refusing to put it next to you on the pile of other pretty, rejected clothes.

kaiser doesn’t immediately answer, but you notice the way his thumb scrolls slower across his phone screen now. his gaze flickers back to you, scrutinizing, and almost annoyed? evident in the way his lips press into a tight line, jaw clenching and unclenching as he sorts through his thoughts. a brief, almost unnoticeable, flicker of frustration crosses his features before he slumps even further, his voice quieter but more pointed. "it’s just a first date. don’t you think it's kind of pathetic? all this effort for some guy you’re not even sure is going to stick around?"

his words sting more than you want them to. 

the dress feels heavier in your hands, like a weight you're not sure you want to carry anymore— and frankly, it ruins any excitement you have for your date. you bite your lip, chewing on the skin. you want to ask him why he even cares, why he's hell bent on making you think that every man is bound to ditch you after the first date, why he can’t seem to be happy for you.  

you hold up the dress, this time with less confidence. "i didn’t know wanting to look good for a date was such a crime." admittedly, your voice is snappy and irritated, almost glaring at him from where you stand. 

“it’s not.” he says, ignoring the heated look in your eyes. “looking good for other men is, though.”

going drinking with oliver aiku.

from being friends with aiku for practically all of your life, you’d think you know better than to say ‘yes’ to his whims. but it seems that time has only weakened your resolve.

“come here.” aiku sits lazily on the couch, an arm slung over the backrest, his legs parting to comfortably make space for you. you watch him in silence from where you sit, raising a brow at him as he throws you that signature smirk of his— before he’s patting the space between his legs, motioning for you to come over. “help me drink?”

“what?” comes your surprised response, mouth dry and voice cracking as you speak. despite your loose state, your back straightens at his words, and you grip the glass in your hands. “what do you mean ‘help… you drink’?”

“pour a shot into my mouth. the one you’re holding in your hand right now.” he motions to it with a nod of his head, voice slightly slurring but way too casual for your liking. as if what he was asking were normal, and totally not crossing some unspoken boundary between friends. “come on, just this once.”

the logical part of your mind screams at you from somewhere in your head, telling you not to do it. but it’s quickly tamped down by his pleading eyes, and the ‘please’ that slips past his lips. you get up and you take your time walking over to the couch, treading with short and slow steps, giving yourself a chance to back down.

but you don’t. 

with an uncertain look on your face, you place a knee between his legs, a hand shooting out to steady yourself as you lean over him. the hand holding the glass is shaking— from nerves, or from being mildly inebriated, or maybe a hefty mix of both— the drink sloshing around as you carry it to him. you feel his hands on your waist, firm and warm, preventing you from tipping over.

finally finding the courage to look into his eyes, you do. they’re so unfocused, yet so focused on you, and it makes you breathe in heavily, as if second guessing the normality of what you’re about to do. sensing your hesitation, his fingers squeeze at your waist. “go on.”

it's reckless and impulsive, but clearly, you aren't in the right state to be making smart decisions. your fingers hook under his chin, his eyes intently honing in on you as you do so, as you bring the glass to his lips. you press it against his lips, watching as they part to make space for the intrusion, before his fingers latch onto your wrist.

he doesn’t break eye contact as he guides you, gaze heavy and imposing, that it almost makes you want to pull away. but you can’t— his hands keep you firmly in place. you’re forced (though, you know a part of you willingly stares) to watch as he guides your hand to tilt the glass, pouring the contents into his mouth. 

aiku’s fingers linger on your skin even when the drink is long gone, and it makes you squirm. you cough, bringing one of your hands to your mouth to form a fist, as you bashfully look away. “all done here now, right?”

a beat passes, before you feel the heat of his hands leave your skin, “yeah.” and you pull away from him.

© rindreamery, 2025

[tender-rosiey]

desire — ryomen sukuna x f!reader

a/n: me? not sticking to the poll? no wayyy 😙 I AM SORRY I COULDNT RESIST HEIAN!SUKUNA X CONCUBINE!READER next up will be the dad one (I hope) <3

the servants jump in fear as they hear yet another loud crash thunder through the hallway. some of them even latch onto the pillars near them, fearing that the shaking ground would crumble right under their feet.

“uraume, another one!” they hear their lord’s voice shout venomously.

they realize that if the collapsing ground doesn’t kill them then there is a possibility that sukuna might do it himself.

for some reason, this morning, sukuna has been in a terrible mood. with the first ray of sunlight, he had slammed the door of the chambers open.

with an ever-permanent scowl, he scanned the hall filled with concubines and servants.

his chest was heaving slowly; his breath almost scalding hot as he breathed out. he looked at uraume and says, “I need five people sent to the vacant room this instant.”

with no other word, he turned and exited the hall, closing the door with a bang.

the servants were wide-eyed, and they frantically looked at each other.

some of them started weeping, scared out of their minds that they might be chosen. others were considering the option of fleeing because what can they do so uraume doesn’t choose them for whatever massacre sukuna was planning?

uraume exhaled lightly, “you have heard lord sukuna,” they stared at the myriad of quivering servants, emotionless, “stand in line.”

and so it was.

now, on the other side of the door is sukuna crushing the skull of yet another servant. he breathes heavily, fury flowed through his veins.

he stares at the pool of blood on the ground, the splatters of it on the walls, and the splashes of it on the ceiling. his jaw tightens as he thinks of the reason of why all of this happened.

yesterday was the first night he had ever spent with you.

of course, that entailed bedding you—the norm for your position—but what had sukuna in a turmoil was the conversations, the words exchanged, and soft touches you had given him before anything.

he had seen you in the estate on occasion, acknowledging you as one of the better looking concubines, but it was only yesterday that he actually interacted with you.

from the moment you entered his room to the moment you left, it was all like none other.

he had never entertained the idea of making conversations with his concubines as they only had one purpose—to serve him. on days when he was in a good mood, he would tease, speak lowly, anything to get a reaction.

all of that was to fuel his own pleasure, since he hated stagnancy.

to your luck, though, yesterday, he felt very pleased—whispers of it being caused by defeating yet another considerably strong opponent. so, he talked to you.

“so, what’s your name?” he asked, small smirk playing on his face, when you were first brought into the room. pretty little thing you were seated in front of him, eyes not knowing where to look and trying to keep in mind all the instructions uraume told you.

he expected you to be meek, bordering on shy.

however, despite maintaining humility as you were told, you spoke your name with pride, and for the first time since you entered, you looked him in the eyes.

he should’ve had you killed for that little act; however, he noted that you immediately averted your eyes after it. perhaps, it’s your way of screaming ‘remember me’, a way to engrave yourself into his memory even for a millisecond.

it had sukuna smiling smugly before commenting, “you’re quite bold…and peculiar,” he rested his chin on his palm, “did they not inform you to not look me in the eyes unless you’re told to?”

you straightened your shoulders and spoke carefully, “I was, but I was taught by my parents to be prideful of who I am.”

“and pride is a good thing for servant to display in front of their king?”

your eyebrows furrowed, and you pursed your lips, mumbling, “no—but I was born like this, my lord, so I apologize.”

he chuckled, hand holding your face and moving it with ease, “I should have you decapitated for that attitude.”

your eyes drifted to the window, but the nail that sunk lightly into your cheek snapped you back to reality. sukuna scowled, “look at me when I speak to you.”

“didn’t you say that I am not to do that, my lord?” you asked, looking him straight in the eyes.

“I changed my mind,” he grined devilishly, “you complaining?”

“I could never.”

he leaned closer to you and whispers, “smart girl.”

and so, the night went as he took you for himself. what surprised him in the whole ordeal is that he found himself being just a tad bit gentler when tears prickle at the corner of your eye.

he actually spoke to you through it, but what resonated with him the most is what happened after.

you slowly gathered your robes with all the strength you can muster. however, sukuna called out from his position on the bed, “did I order you to leave?”

you blinked in confusion and spluttered, “b-but uraume said that you don’t like—”

“and my orders are above uraume’s: you are to stay until I tell you to leave.”

you clutched your belongings to your chest. you felt your heart squeeze in a bit of fear and excitement. you have been caught off guard by him more than once already.

you had come in expecting a ruthless and painful night, but it was surprisingly pleasant.

the little talk before it was also easier on your heart than you had assumed. you thought that he wouldn’t even bother talking to you and would just take you like an animal as you have heard the concubines bellow and wail.

so when a thumb was wiping away your tears and a hand was holding your waist with a light touch, you wondered whether the man you were with was truly the king of curses, the man that everybody was screaming and thrashing about.

though, you felt that it might be a test of some sort—something to make you lower your guard before he can do what he truly wanted.

so, with that in mind, you spoke up, “but my lord, I can’t possibly stay in your own chambers; that would be disrespecting you.”

he grunted, a frown making its way to his face, “I decide what’s disrespectful and what isn’t, so you better make your way here, before you regret it,” his eyes flashed with a threat, “I don’t have the time to deal or put up with your every objection.”

instantly, you scurried to the bed where he is comfortably laying down while propping body up on his elbow.

you stood just by the bed and asked, “where would you like me to—”

his hand held your forearm and pulled you right beside him, so you’re laying by his side and still looking up at him. he smirked down at you, “you ask too many questions.”

you didn’t know what to do with your hands. they gripped your kimono while you murmured, “sorry.”

he sighed and with a roll of his eyes, he hummed, “you will stay with me until midnight; you are to entertain me until then.”

you looked at him in shock then you looked at the window. your mouth hung open before you snapped your head back to him, “but the sun has only just set.”

with a raise of his eyebrows and a small smirk, he inquired, “you planning on disobeying me?”

“never!”

“then get to it.”

and you did, gathering all the stories, anecdotes, poems, and songs you can think of to fill the time. during your hours with him, you find out that sukuna is a man of interest in literature.

and there were multiple times where you would talk about a story, assuming that he doesn’t know it only for him to continue the telling of the story himself.

during your hours with him, you saw that he is not completely disregarding of people around him. you saw that he acknowledges those who are truly strong. you saw that he wants to make a world that is whipped to satisfy his own desires.

his rampages are not completely based off of bloodlust.

during your hours with him, you felt content in a way you never thought you could experience with him of all people.

but, during his hours with you, sukuna has never felt so conflicted yet so satisfied. satisfaction should be something good for him, as he only does what he pleases.

if your company is what pleases him then your company shall be what he gets, right?

but why your company? why are you different? why is his pleasuring dependent on you and your talking and not the death that he could bring you?

he was confused and annoyed, yet he was content at the same time. he was so caught up in you that midnight had fallen to him suddenly. he only noticed when the moon’s light hits your face, and your face has never been clearer—even under the sun.

he noted each and every delicate feature, and he frowned because why is he doing it? what does he get from it? he needed time for himself to think this through.

he needed to know why does he feel this way and only from a night spent with you?

surely, you had done something.

so, he silently raised his hand, and you paused right away. your hands settled on your lap, and your smile slowly turned into a thin line, one that’s nervous as you await his next order. he looked up at you, eyes burning.

he then commanded you sternly, “leave.”

you nodded, wasting no time in gathering your things and scurrying out of the chambers but without a small and hesitant, “good night, my lord.”

sukuna’s eyes widened a fraction as he looked up at the door closing behind you. he groaned, throwing his back. he figured that he could just think about it in the morning when he wakes up, but the thing is

he doesn’t wake up

because he doesn’t sleep.

thoughts flooded with images of you, your voice, and your touch to the point that no slumber was he granted. it drove him insane. he is the king of curses; he shouldn’t be tied to a thought of one person, a mere concubine at that.

he racked his brain for the cause of it, but he couldn’t think of any. since the moment you came in till the moment you went out, he had kept his eyes on you.

he thought it was to make sure that you don’t do anything foolish, but he doesn’t know when did his eyes follow you just for you.

so, with anger swirling in his gut, he got up and did what he can to quench his anger, and that’s how everything got this point:

him standing in the middle of the—formerly vacant—room that is now filled with flesh and painted with blood and you who is treading through the gardens with a blissful smile.

your thoughts wander to the night before as you reminisce every soft touch and every little praise you were granted, and it lifts your mood even more.

unaware of the chaos that happened in your absence, you entered the hall where half of the people have disappeared.

your eyebrows furrow, and you look at the weeping ladies, “where are the rest?”

hiccups are all you hear, and eyeshot eyes are what you see. their sobs are unseizing even as they look you in the eye. you hear light footsteps behind you, so you turn and see uraume standing at the door.

they look you in the eye, “are you y/n?”

you nod slowly, and they hum, “lord sukuna has requested for your presence.”

you light up considerably while the other concubines shake in fear as their eyes dart to you. one of them jumps out of her place and latches at you, “no! no! don’t go! he will—”

“silence!” uraume snaps.

the lady holding onto you quickly lets go and crawls back to hide behind the others.

she grips tightly onto the shoulder of the woman in front of her, tears streaming down her face as she is faced with uraume’s sneer.

uraume looks up at you and affirmed, “go.”

after a while, you finally find yourself face to face with the entrance of sukuna’s chamber.

you take a deep breath, and you carefully push the door and speak up softly, “my lord, you called for me?”

you feel a hand roughly clutch your arm and snatches you inside. you are then slammed against the wall. you let out a yelp as pain shoots up your spine.

you squeeze your eyes shut, afraid of the sight that you will see.

and even though you can’t see his eyes, you can feel the heat from his glare. the venom dripping from his voice doesn’t help as he sneers, “what have you done?”

you force your eyes open slowly, and you stutter, “w-what?”

a hand flies to your throat and is wrapped securely around it. you choke out a small, “my lord!”

his grip tightens, and you feel tears form in your eyes and flow down your face.

more than ever, you feel the fear that his looming figure sends through everybody else, you feel the fire of his red eyes scorch your skin, and you feel the aura that everybody talked about.

an overwhelming evil.

“I don’t understand what game you’re playing, but you better stop it this instance,” he threatens, and you let out a sob.

“what game, my lord? I don’t understand!” you manage to choke out.

your hear him let out a breath before he says lowly, “I have told you that desires and pleasures are fluctuating, right?”

fearing for your life, you nod desperately. you feel his grip loosen, and he leans down to rest his forehead on your own.

with furrowed brows and a deep scowl, his eyes bore into your own as he holds your face up with his other hand, “then why do I still desire you?”

you blink owlishly at him then speak cautiously, “didn’t you say that you take what you desire?”

he raises an eyebrow, urging you to continue. slowly and hesitantly, you raise your hand to cup his face.

you look him up in the eyes, and you find them following your every moment. “then what’s wrong with,” you hesitate, “with taking this one?”

you look innocent as you look up at him, but to him, your words are nothing but.

with a low chuckle, he pulls your face closer to his own, “temptress,” and he seals your lips with his.

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copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or I will send yuuta after you

[nottswitch]

— if you’ve been nice, you get…

────────────────── 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐫. ──

summary: your boyfriend’s return from one of the meetings with his father is always a gamble, a shot it the dark. this time, he simply needs you close.

pairing: mattheo riddle x reader

cw: 18+ smut, established relationship, fingering, oral (f receiving), p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, body worship, cockwarming, praise, cursing

wc: 1.8k

a/n: soft smut with mattheo always has a place in my heart <3 enjoy!

⟡ navigation ; m.lists ; mattheo m.list ; kinkmas 2024

────────────────────────

A knock on the door of your dorm in the middle of the night was not a surprise – ever since Mattheo left a few hours ago, you’d been waiting, waiting and waiting. He did tell you to get some sleep, as usual, and as usual, you didn’t listen; not that you deliberately tried to go against him, you just couldn’t sleep at all. You never could – not when he was possibly being hurt by his maniac of a father while you were comfortable in a warm but very lonely bed. So, when a quiet thump echoed through the room from the other side of the door, you felt your heart fluttering and dropping to your stomach at the same time.

Mattheo was back. But you didn’t know if he was back in one piece.

You nearly bolted out of the bed, hurrying to open the door – the last thing you wanted was making Mattheo wait. As soon as you turned the handle, he stumbled into the room, his arms wrapping tightly around you. You could almost feel the anxiety radiating off him, evident in the slight tremble of his hands caressing your back, in the shaky exhales fanning the crook of your neck, in the way his foot punched the door close behind him with way more force than needed.

“Baby,” you murmured, your own arms sliding up to embrace him as well. You felt up his back and sides, unconsciously searching for any signs of wounds or bruises, your ears tuned to hear the faintest hiss that could potentially escape his mouth. When you, thankfully, didn’t hear anything like that, you allowed yourself to pull away a bit, searching his face with a relieved yet still worried look in your eyes. “How–”

Mattheo didn’t let you finish, crashing your lips together in a kiss filled with nothing but pure desperation, as if he was trying to reassure himself that you were real, that you were physically there, in front of him, in his arms. You closed your eyes, letting him feel your presence and enjoying his, your hands soothingly moving up and down his back and shoulders. His right hand cupped your cheek as the kiss started losing its intensity, the movements of his lips mellowing out into tenderness.

“Need you close, princess. Please,” Mattheo whispered into your mouth, continuing to kiss you right after. You didn’t need words to understand him at the moment, but his pleading voice painfully tugged at your heartstrings, and you immediately understood everything he was trying to say.

“You have me, baby. I promise,” you whispered back, keeping the tremble out of your voice as best as you possibly could. Mattheo couldn’t do that, letting out a shaky breath through his parted lips. His hands moved down your body, a firm touch remembering each and every single inch of it, before he lifted you up, squeezing the back of your thighs. He carried you towards the bed, his steps urgent yet soft at the same time, gently lowering you onto the sheets.

His fingers hooked under the edge of your sleeping shirt, pulling it up to bare your skin – the contact Mattheo craved like a starved man would crave a crumb of bread after years of famine. His lips moved from yours down your jawline, latching onto your neck in a second, his tongue flicking out to taste the sweetness of it. He wasn’t leaving marks this time, like he usually did, as if he didn’t have enough strength to do it – he simply needed to know that your skin was still there, available for him to taste, that no one had taken away the privilege of being this close to you yet. His hands caressed your stomach, your waist, your chest, kneading the soft flesh of your breasts as if it was the last time he would be able to touch them. He was constantly afraid that it would be, especially right now, which made him savour each moment spent doing what he loved most in this world.

“My beautiful girl,” he whispered, lavishing your collarbones with wet, sloppy kisses. His eyes flicked up to your face for a moment, and you saw desperation still written all over his features, manifesting in the time he took to make sure not a single millimeter of you remained unloved. “The sweetest little thing in this entire fucking world.”

The trail he left all over your body, down your torso, to the waistband of your pajama pants made you shiver from anticipation. You wanted him in more ways than one, but you knew that he needed to feel all of you, which made you hold back on begging him to take you already. Although you couldn’t suppress the moans and whines that left your lips in a delightful string, the sound being angel’s music to Mattheo’s ears. He needed to hear you, to have proof that he was the one making you feel good, giving you pleasure – the only state he wanted to see you in that moment, lost in him and his touch.

Your pants were pulled down and discarded in a gentle yet somewhat hurried manner, Mattheo’s lips instantly attaching to your inner thighs. He kissed his way up, nuzzling his nose into your already dripping pussy before diving in. He had no intention to tease you right now, his aching heart screaming for him to be buried between your legs, the place he was sure he belonged in; and you were letting him, your needy sighs and pretty moans filling the quietness of the dimly lit dorm. It was all he asked for, and he got even more than that – your fingers tangled into his curls, your nails lightly scratching his head, making him moan right into you. Mattheo felt your wetness dripping down his chin and onto the silky sheets, but it didn’t matter – nothing mattered other than being completely and utterly consumed by you.

His fingers eagerly slipped into your entrance, curling and pressing into the spot he knew made you moan louder, relishing the feeling of your walls squeezing him – a sign that you were close, close to coming undone because of him.

“Need you to cum for me, sweet girl,” he murmured against your folds, his voice muffled, desperate, wanting. He felt a burning need to make you his, even though you already were, in every sense of the word – but he needed to reaffirm that.

“God, Matty, I-” Your words died down, turning into a whimper when he started pumping his fingers faster, his tongue swirling around your throbbing clit. Your release was accompanied by a tug at his hair, which nearly made him sob – he lapped everything up, slurping sounds riling you up all over again.

The path of Mattheo’s lips up your body, straight to your lips, was marked by your juices trickling out of the corners of his mouth that he made no effort to wipe away. You tasted yourself when he kissed you once more, one of your hands wrapping around his shoulders to pull him close. Mattheo pulled away the tiniest bit, just enough to take off his sweatshirt and pull down his jeans and boxers, tightly pressing against your right after. The skin-to-skin burned into both of you, your body still warm from lying in bed before he came, and his being the flaming heater it usually was.

“Please, love,” he muttered, his voice hoarse after everything he was doing just a minute ago. You felt his cock pressing between your thighs, the slight overstimulation of your sensitive pussy making them clench around his hips and lift up, searching for the friction you never had enough of. “I need you so bad.” His voice cracked at the last word as he felt your heat against him, his length twitching at the contact.

“You have me,” you whispered, reassuring him once again that you were his, and he could get what he so fiercely wanted. He took in a sharp breath as you shifted beneath him again, urging him to finally take you – and he was more than willing to show you how important you were to him, how he’d give you everything he had and then some.

Mattheo’s cock slid inside of you in a slow and gentle way, filling you up inch by inch until his crotch was firmly pressed against you. You gasped, pulling him down for another kiss, and he easily obliged, his lips moving against yours in a gentle but eager way. He started thrusting his hips back and forth, your walls squeezing him in a way that made him groan into your mouth, the satisfaction of being buried in you making its way to his brain and heart.

“Love you so fucking much, baby,” he nearly whimpered out, the air growing hot between your faces as both of you panted, the pleasure enveloping you in a warm, tingly blanket. “I can’t lose you. Ever. You hear me, sweet thing?”

“You won’t– Ah, fuck…! You won’t lose me,” you replied in an equally wanton voice, your words breaking up as the tip of his cock hit the spots that sent your mind into the kind of overdrive that chased all thoughts away, leaving the feeling of him, just him. Mattheo cupped your cheek, gazing at you with that intense affection that only he was capable of, his deeply brown eyes vulnerable, unable, unwilling to hide the entirety of his emotions, the love he felt just for you.

“Never letting you go, baby. Never in my goddamn life.”

You came together, the moment a manifestation of the connection you shared, the climax bringing you closer than ever, which was barely possible. Mattheo lowered himself onto the bed next to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and bringing you to him, his hands mindlessly tracing circles on your back. You felt his cock softening inside of you, but he made no effort to pull out, drops of his release seeping out and onto your inner thighs.

“Can I stay inside? Please?” he asked, his eyes pleading as he looked at you, searching your face for, hopefully, an agreement. “I’ll wash the sheets tomorrow, just… please, love?”

You smiled, not entirely surprised by his request – it wasn’t the first time he needed to be as close to you as possible, which meant being inside of you in the most literal sense.

“Of course, baby,” you replied, giving him a small kiss on the lips. How could you deny him anything when he was looking at you like that?

Mattheo let out a satisfied hum and snuggled up to you, burying his face in your hair. As you dozed off, he felt his anxiety melting away just a bit – it never truly left, but at least in that moment, he could feel your warm body next to him and know that he got to love you and keep you.

[owuwi]

LOTTIE MATTHEWS.ᐟ

➤ lottie matthews x fem!reader

requested

.ᐣ after being rescued, you notice the toll the traumatic plane crash took on your poor girlfriend.

⤷ cw: top!postcrash!lottie matthews, sub!reader, bitting, blood, fingering, vaginal tear, thigh humping, squirting, implied tribbing

──────────────────────

for nineteen months, you didn't know if your girlfriend was death or alive.

no one knew anything, though it was almost as if they didn't care—you were sure they didn't thanks to how short the investigation was. after the first year, the yellowjackets were proclaimed death.

yet they came back, she came back.

seeing lottie for the first time after all that time felt like a blessing—like whatever god up in the sky pitied you and gave you what you'd been praying for during all those sleepless nights. she was different, though, and you couldn't blame her. she was quiet, flinched whenever your hand came near her sun-kissed skin, got lost in her thoughts the millisecond the room went silent.

her parents took notice of this behavior and figured the best thing would be sending her off to a mental institution in switzerland, an idea you immediately said no to—did you had any said in that decision? no, but that didn't matter to you—.

but, little by little, she changed.

she didn't seem on edge anymore, she didn't stay quiet in hopes of hearing something in the air anymore, she gained back her interest in you. slowly, she started being more open, offering you soft words and shaky smiles which you gratefully accepted. her kisses on your cheek started lingering, her hands on your body more willing—just like before—.

lottie had her up and downs yet this contentment lasted longer than usual, and you couldn't be happier. she always needed to be by your side, needed to be touching you in any way or she'd shut down; and who were you to deprive her from her needs?

late at night, you allowed her wandering touches, allowed her sharp teeth to dig into your sensitive skin. though this wasn't the needy lottie you were used to, her need was different.

when the two of you were ready to be sexually intimate again, that change in her was way more prominent.

with her hand wrapped around your throat, she had your mind turning to mush. you didn't mind it—not at all—but it was... weird, considering everything she went through. you expected her to be softer, more fragile, ready to see her crumble down; yet she proved you wrong.

her leg was roughly slotted in between your thighs, providing you some pressure on your aching core. her hand on your neck was cutting your air supply in the most delicious way while she kissed you sloppily. suddenly, she bit down on your lip—hard, hard enough to have you bleeding.

your faint wince of pain and the way you pulled away from the kiss didn't bother her at all, she simply held you in place and licked your blood away from your tender lips like a thirsty vampire. "l-lott..." her murmured name left your lips, your voice breathy thanks to how undeniably turned on you were.

"i know, i know..." she simply said, a calmed smile forming on her lips while her free hand slowly placed itself on your chest. "i missed you.." she then added, keeping her eyes closed while she felt your fastening heartbeat against her palm.

her hand on your neck released its grip and moved down your body, her long fingers tracing over you as if trying to remember how you felt. her hand came to a rest on your waist, her head leaned forward so she could nibble on your neck.

well, nibble wasn't exactly the word to describe what she did.

she was rough with the way she bit down on the column of your throat—her smile morphing to a smirk as you gripped the strands of her hair. "missed you too... but don't you wanna slow down?" you quickly asked her, wrapping your arms around her neck and slowly rubbing your sweaty palms up and down her back.

until she made you scream, she wasn't satisfied.

"it's okay..." she reassured you, a warm feeling spreading through her body as her lips got slightly tainted with the crimson-red fluid dribbling down your neck.

before you could even notice, her rough hands were sliding your sleeping-shorts and panties down your legs, and her calloused fingers slid between your slick folds in no time.

you'd be lying if you said you didn't want things to go slower. the trauma your girlfriend went through was something that wasn't going to leave her any time soon—maybe it never will—, and being with someone after only seeing a group of specific people for so long must be odd for her.

you got snapped from your thoughts and dragged back into reality as you felt two of her long fingers slipping inside of you, a whine of slight discomfort erupting from your chest as your gummy walls tried to accommodate.

"l-lottie..." her name left your lips once again, your nails digging onto her back through the thin shirt she was wearing.

usually, you were the one begging lottie to fuck you since the poor girl was always so nervous to accidentally hurt you, but that wasn't the case. she started plunging her fingers into your drooling cunt while humping your thigh, her other hand grabbing your jaw roughly and tilting your head up so she could have better access to the skin on your neck.

low whines and growl-like noises were constantly coming from her, showing an animalistic side of her you never knew existed.

"cum for me... i know you can do it..." god, her raspy voice was like a melody coming from heaven. whenever she instructed you something—something that happened quite often these days—, her voice shifted to a gruffer tone.

despite the slight burn on your insides, you were so damn attracted to her. you felt that tight coil in your stomach threatening to snap, high-pitched uh, uh, uh's slipping past your lips as she fingered you.

everything was too fast—too messy. the air in your room stank of sex and sweat, your mind was blank yet filled with nothing but your girlfriend; her touch, her scent, her.

abruptly, the brown-eyed girl let out a moan and she—once again—bit down, now on the area of your shoulder, as she felt her orgasm crash over her. the sweet juices of her release squirted out of her as she continued humping your thigh, her puffy clit receiving the right amount of stimulation despite being trapped behind the confines of her clothes.

and oh god, was the sight of her squirting hot.

the feeling of the warm liquid seeping through her underwear and shorts and soaking your skin, the faint hiss emitting from her pussy—it was all too much for you.

with a loud, shaky yell of her name, you came all over her fingers. you were shamelessly fucking yourself with her digits, riding out the pleasure she provided you while clawing at her back. despite how good you felt, that burning sensation never left—and it actually worsened once your climax subsided.

"fuck l-lott.... please pull out..." you begged her weakly some moments later, pushing her hand away and whining when her fingers actually slipped out. the sight of her fingers covered in a light, thin layer of blood wasn't surprising, yet knowing that she hurt you churned your stomach.

the other girl wasn't bothered by this, she simply brought her fingers up to her lips and sucked the blood from her digits.

"you're sweeter than i remembered..." she commented, completely ignoring the rough manner she treated your poor cunt.

with a smooth movement, she got rid of her clothes and shifted on top of you, situating her wet pussy on top of yours before lowering herself.

it was going to be one long night.

[chiscaralight]

cw: nsfw sukuna x reader. this is built off of my college athlete!sukuna au.

“hey, i thought you were good at this game. you’re pretty shit huh?”

“shut u-up, s’kuna!”

his laugh is heavy, vibrating all throughout his body, even right into his cock that’s nestled deep in your cunt. your now-boyfriend has you bent over the backrest of the couch, feet practically hanging off the ground as he holds you tight, pounding into you ever so slowly as you try to concentrate on your game.

he’s right about the first part, you’re generally really good at this game, climbing tanks with speed whenever a new season starts. but he’s fucking up your momentum now, unable to give you just a half hour to get a few rounds in before he gets a few rounds in. he decides it’s his way or the highway though. after all, you’re the one that promised that if his team won their next match he could do anything he wanted to you. he took your words very seriously because he’s been tormenting you about it all day!

and sukuna’s cock is incredibly huge, stretching you out a stupid amount while you weakly attempt to focus your eyes on the screen. but you’re getting cross-eyed from how deep his strokes are hitting, biting down so harshly on your lip to keep your moans in and not give him the satisfaction that he wants.

unfortunately, your boyfriend is a greedy man, and he wants everything about you, including your voice. he hates to admit it, but one of the major reasons he kept coming back to you is because of your saccharine voice. you could be talking about the nerdiest thing, droning on and on about how you enjoy a specific mechanic of a game or how dumb an ending was, but it’s the way you sound, how the melody dripping from your lips has his pants tightening with an insane speed. but you want to keep that away from him? no way in hell is he going to allow that.

and his body mass and power far exceeds yours, because his strong hand is gripping your face and raising your entire upper body from the position you were leaned down in. his fingers press into your cheeks hard and your mouth involuntarily opens, right before he delivers a particulate hard thrust that has your controller hitting the ground with a loud crash, but a long, drawn-out moan following almost immediately after.

there it is. that’s what he’s looking for. your pretty eyes are squeezed shut, fingers gripping at the fabric of the couch cushion that’s being rested upon. your breathing is so labored, legs twitching as you brace yourself for impact. but it never comes. you’re waiting, but he’s waiting for something too.

“s’kuna, come onnn. move, please.”

“oh, you finally have time for me now? what about your little match?”

“sukuna.”

you’re rolling your eyes at the way you can feel him trying to hold back. he’s so annoying when he gets all cocky like this, knowing he has all the power over you right now. if it was any of the other people he used to mess around with, he’d have drawn it out much longer, have them beg hard, humiliate themselves just for an inch of pleasure. but you? he’s already scooping you into his arms, circling to the front of the couch, and shifting the coffee table on the rug with a single push of his leg.

the floor? and your thinking is correct because your back is colliding with the softness of the rug soon enough.

“what, am i not good enough for the couch anymore? and here i thought you liked me.”

“better watch that mouth before i leave you here.”

“you wouldn’t.”

that’s right, he wouldn’t. but he won’t tell you that. he’d rather just slide into your leaking cunt like he is now, relishing in the way you whine as he re-enters. it’s always like the first time with him, the burn of the way he stretches you hot against your achy hole as grasp tight as his wrist. and sukuna loves to bed you over backwards for him, quite literally, because he waists no time to push your legs up, getting them as far as your body will allow before pressing his own weight on top of you, keeping them locked in place so he can start to move.

and he’s been far more patient within the last few minutes, but right now his pace is relentless, fucking you with a speed that your brain actually cannot comprehend, lips nipping at the exposed skin of your neck. it’s been a while since he’s been able to have just enough time with you and all the marks he loves to see against your skin have healed and faded. no problem for him, it’s the perfect setting to give you one, two, maybe thirty more.

your arms are locked tight around his broad shoulders, trying to ground yourself from the pleasure. if you sink too far into it, you might honestly pass out from how good he feels. he knows just when to angle his hips up, just when to lick into your mouth and just how much pressure he needs to put on your stomach to have wail out his name in a sickly sweet tone, the tears that were welling in the corners of your eyes finally starting to roll against your cheeks as he keeps up, pace never faltering.

the man you’re dating is a nasty brute though, and he enjoys saying you like this a little too much. his tongue is quick to lap up the liquid gracing your cheeks, ignoring the way you whine out an ewwww because he knows you love it when he does shit like this. he’ll pay a soft peck to your lips before trailing his rough fingers toward your clit, brushing hard against the sensitive bud. the single action has you arching off the ground, pressing your chest against his as you squirm hard, trying to run away from the pleasure.

but sukuna hates it when you try to escape, it offends him even. he’d much prefer you stay here and take what he decides to give you because he usually gives you his everything. your gratitude can’t be trying to leave, that won’t be fair to him. so he’ll push even harder against your clit, drawing quick shapes against hit in ways that he knows will have you shaking hard against him in no time.

and once again he’s correct because your eyes are rolling back into the darkness of your skull, body spasming under his as your orgasm rocks you hard. it’s all so beautiful, the noises you make, the way you look, the way your cunt continues to flutter around his length; he can’t help but pump you full of his own, grunts deep and hoarse as he fucks it into you. too bad you’re out cold from your own, he would have loved to see the look on your face as his actions would most definitely overstimulate you.

when you finally come to, you’re cleaned up and laid on the couch, in his shirt and a blanket tightly tucked around you. the volume from the tv is low and sukuna sits on the floor, back resting against the chair as he focuses hard on the screen.

“sukuna..what are you doing?”

“i’m playing a real game here. you wouldn’t understand.”

“you’re playing dress to impress??”

he just waves you off, returning his attention back to his very serious gameplay. you roll your eyes, debating wether or not you should unplug your router just to see him suffer, but you come up with another idea.

in almost no time, you’re sliding yourself into his lap, chest facing his as you trail your fingers up and down his built chest. sukuna is well built, almost too well built, body chiseled and toned like a greek god. he spares you only a glance and a smirk as your touch continues to roam over his body.

“you’re not going to mess me up right now, brat.”

smart, but his body is as weak for your touch as you are for his. when you do respond, your voice is low, and sultry and you bring your lips to his ears to make sure he hears you loud and clear.

“i’m not trying to, you can keep playing.”

his entire being stiffens but for only a second. that one second is enough to solidify your resolve, because you’re moving your hips against his, and you can feel his bulge growing against the thin fabric of your panties as you whisper the nastiest things to him, making sure you’re moving just enough to get him on the edge.

you hold back a smile when you feel both hands against the dip of your waist, guiding you against his length. he’s watching you very closely, studying every shift and flutter of your lashes as you cutely smile up at him. god, you’re honestly going to kill him. but before that, he’s going to fuck that pussy half to death until you’re begging him to let you cum.

[phefics]

𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐮𝐦

𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩: fred weasley x reader x george weasley 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: fred and george dose the reader with a truth serum, which leads to her admitting a sexual fantasy including both brothers. 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬: dubious consent (truth potion is used to make the reader admit her sexual fantasies which then play out), pseudo-inc3st (the twins don't do anything sexual to each other but are both involved in the same sexual scenario), gender-neutral!reader (reader has a vagina but no pronouns are used) 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.9k

Being friends with the Weasley twins was a constant rollercoaster.

There was never a dull moment, always an adventure to go on, a prank to pull, or witty banter bouncing between you and the brothers. Sometimes, you were helping Fred and George pull off their next big joke, but other times, you were their target. Sure, it could be frustrating, but it was also fun for you, and you always found ways to get them back.

You had been friends with the twins since your first year at Hogwarts, and that friendship had continued past Hogwarts and followed you into early-adulthood. You visited them at the flat over their shop in Diagon Alley often, where they showed you prototypes for new products and made you laugh until you cried with their antics.

It was a cold evening when you appeared in their fireplace, a bit dusty from the ashes, and were greeted with excited shouts from Fred and George before being pulled into a group hug.

As you looked up at their grinning faces, you couldn’t believe that there were people who still got the twins confused.

Fred had more freckles on his face, while George’s shoulders and arms had an abundance of them. When Fred laughed, he threw his head back, cackling loudly, while George usually gave more reserved chuckles, laughing down at his lap. And, well, George was fully missing an ear now, and Fred had a large scar on his temple from the Battle, where a piece of castle wall had crashed down on top of him.

“Finally,” Fred said, man-handling you onto the couch. “We’ve been waiting ages!”

“I’m only a few minutes late,” you replied, glancing at their clock, which wasn’t even working—it read 3:15, but it was well past 7:00 judging by the darkness outside.

“And are our few minutes not important to you?” George asked, sitting by your side. “We could have been using that time to come up with more brilliant inventions.”

“Or planned a clever scheme to spill a bucket of water on your head when you arrived,” Fred added.

You rolled your eyes. “I’m terribly sorry to have wasted your precious time,” you said, tone thick with sarcasm.

It was nice catching up with them. They updated you on each member of the Weasley family, such as Fleur’s pregnancy with her and Bill’s first child, or Percy’s upcoming wedding. You updated them on your own life as well, and it wasn’t long until they had pushed a glass of Firewhiskey into your hands.

“So, Y/N,” Fred said, leaning against the back of the couch. You immediately recognized the glint of mischief in his brown eyes, and braced yourself for whatever ridiculous question he was about to pose.

“Which of us do you think is the better looking twin?”

You opened your mouth, intending to say something like ‘neither of you’ or ‘you’re identical—what kind of stupid question is that?’ but the sentence that spilled from your lips instead was, “Well, you look pretty much the same, so I’d say you guys are equally attractive. I think the scar makes you look pretty hot, Fred, but George can really pull off the whole missing ear thing.”

You clapped a hand over your mouth, face burning.

The twins both erupted into giggles.

“Oh, you’re too kind!” George said. “I’m glad you find my lack of an ear sexy.”

“And my scar is flattered,” Fred added.

“What did you two do?” you asked, scowling.

“We might have stumbled upon a vial of Veritaserum…” George said, trying and failing to look guilty. “And put it in your drink. Just a drop, though! It’ll wear off soon.”

You wanted to insult them, yell at them, call them every insult and curse under the sun, but no words would leave your tongue. It was like the truth serum wouldn’t even let you pretend to be pissed off. Sure, this was an invasion of your privacy and totally sketchy, but you had known Fred and George for so long, you were sort of used to their antics by now. You should have been way angrier than you were, but it was just so typical of them, you couldn’t muster much more than annoyance.

What you did manage to say was, “Why?”

Both twins shrugged.

“For fun,” Fred said.

“And because we were curious about something,” George replied.

“About what?”

“About which of us you like better.”

You blinked at them. “Are you serious? We aren’t eleven anymore. Is it really a contest between you two to be the better twin?”

“Not really, no,” Fred said. “Even though we all know that it's me.”

George reached over you to playfully shove his brother’s shoulder. “It’s not about proving anything. We’re just curious. So, Y/N, who do you like better: me or Freddie?”

“I like you equally,” you said. “You are both hilarious, intelligent, and my best friends. I find it easier to connect with George on serious things, but Fred always knows the right thing to say when I need cheering up.”

Your face was flushing deeper, embarrassed at the cheesy, sentimental words that left your mouth. Fred and George had grown up in an incredibly loving, affectionate family and had never shied away from making their love known, but it was awkward to voice your own feelings out loud like that.

Both twins seemed rather touched, though

“Wow, I was expecting you to have to pick,” Fred said. “But that’s oddly sweet.”

You groaned. “Okay, okay, yes, I love you both, can we knock this off now?”

“No, we have more questions!”

“Such as…?”

“Would you fuck either of us?” George asked.

Fred was normally the more vulgar of the two, and the question coming from George’s lips instead took you even more off guard.

“Yes,” you said, unable to stop yourself. “Either of you. Or both of you.”

“At the same time?”

“Yes.”

Fred and George also showed their emotions differently. Fred was better at keeping his feelings to himself, but when he was flustered, his ears would turn pink. His ears had flushed slightly, and his eyes were wide as he licked his lips, clearly intrigued by your answer. George was also flushed, but the color went to his face, and he brushed his thumbs repeatedly over his thighs, a nervous tick he’d always had.

“Have you thought about this a lot?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Tell us how you’d want it.”

You couldn’t help but answer. “I would let you strip off my clothes, groping me. One of you is behind me, kissing my neck as you take off my shirt. The other is at my feet, pulling my pants down. Neither of you shut up the whole time, talking about me like I’m not even there. Commenting to each other about how pretty I am, how wet my pussy is for you. Whoever is between my legs starts to go down on me, while the other holds my body still so I can’t move away from how good it feels. I cum on your tongue, and the other wants a turn, too…”

The twins were both clearly aroused as you spoke.

“Do you want that? Now?” Fred asked, his voice low.

“Yes,” you breathed. 

They waste no time switching their positions on the couch, George pulling your back against his chest while Fred positions himself between your legs, his hands eagerly moving to the waistband of your pants, tugging at it.

George took his time, hands sliding up your shirt, touching softly as he felt you up, his face nuzzling into the crook of your neck, lips teasing the skin there.

You couldn’t help but whine under their touches, loving every moment of it. You had truly dreamt of this for years, always too afraid to ruin the friendship. Sure, you had kissed both twins for dares back at school, but this was real and intimate and beautiful.

Fred made quick work of getting your bottom half undressed, and he kissed his ways along your thighs, cupping your ass with one hand, squeezing hard.

“So fuckin’ hot,” George breathed.

“I know, right?” Fred replied. “So good for us, too. Are we making your fantasy come true, love?”

You nodded, whimpering softly.

“So needy, too. You want to cum for us?”

You nodded again. “Yes, yes please.”

George chuckled, nipping at your ear as Fred’s mouth finally reached your pussy, his tongue licking tentatively at you before he found your clit, which he immediately focused his attention on.

Your noises only grew louder, more desperate.

“Already? You’re not very good at this whole build-up thing, Freddie,” George said.

“I think we’ve waited long enough for this,” Fred replied before returning to his task.

“You don’t want to be patient, do you, darling?” George asked, hugging you tightly from behind. “You’ve wanted this for so long, you just want to be good for us, take everything we’ve got?”

“Fuck yes,” you moan.

Fred was clearly just as eager as you are, apparently trying to make you cum as quickly as possible, like he was placing bets in his head.

“You like that, hm? Is he good at it? Making you feel good?” George said.

“Feels so fucking good.”

“Good. You gonna cum for him?”

“Yes, yes, I’m—”

It didn’t take long at all. Fred’s tongue was good for more than just witty comments, and your legs trembled as he sat up, lips shining with your slick and a smug smile on his face.

“I think this is the part where we switch jobs, Georgie.”

Your pussy was already so wet, so sensitive, you knew that George would be able to make you cum fast, too. It was almost embarrassing how easy you were, how turned on they made you.

The twins switched positions, and Fred wrapped his arms around your middle sweetly, dragging his fingers over your waist and making goosebumps spread over your abdomen, squirming in his grasp.

“Don’t try and get away, sweet thing,” Fred said. “Otherwise George won’t be able to have his turn. Just be good for us, okay? Be a good little slut.”

You whined, face hot as George’s lips found your inner thighs and kissed the skin there, slowly, teasingly. He was the more patient, more methodical of the two. He wasn’t going to go straight for your clit, he was going to keep you wanting. Maybe until you begged.

Fred began sucking a hickey into your throat, leaving you a moaning mess as the twins both worshiped your body like it was something sacred.

Finally, George’s tongue found your pussy, teasing your hole and folds before even bothering to touch your clit.

“Should he put his fingers inside you?” Fred asked.

You nodded fervently, thrusting your hips.

George complied immediately, sliding one finger inside which was quickly followed by a second, pumping slowly before curling into that special spot, which he had found surprisingly easily.

Your second orgasm came just as quickly as the first, your hands balling into fists and your toes curling. Once your body was able to relax, you looked up through teary eyes to see George licking your taste off of his fingers.

“Was that everything you dreamed?” Fred asked.

You opened your mouth, expecting the answer to roll off your tongue, but it didn’t. You realized that the potion had worn off, and smirked.

“It could have been better,” you said, thrilled with your ability to lie again.

Obviously, Fred and George had to remedy that immediately.

[rainyhideoutnight]

baby fever with nat. pure fluff. established relationship. no crash.

𐙚 as soon as the test comes back positive, she's treating you like you're made out of glass. she makes sure you don't bump into things or make great effort. "nat, i'm only two months along, i can carry these—" "it's okay, you just relax, baby." as she manages to carry three bags in each hand.

𐙚 some nights, you'd wake up either to go to the bathroom or grab some water, and realize nat isn't sleeping next to you. you wander off, looking for her, curious, and find her smoking a cigarette on the kitchen window, wide open as she rests on her arms, looking out to the night. when her head snaps to the sound of your steps getting closer, she'll either immediately put the cigarette out or move her hand away as far as she can. she's stopped smoking near you and is trying to drop it completely before the baby is born. it's hard but she'd do anything to keep you both safe.

𐙚 sometimes you'd be half-asleep on the bed or couch, with nat laying her head on your bump thinking you're fast asleep, and you'd hear her hushed whispers to the baby, talking about how much she wishes to meet her baby already, how much she's gonna support her, how she's going to be better than her parents, until her words get caught up in her throat (because she gets so emotional) and rests her head lightly on your stomach. it's such a vulnerable moment for her that you don't even bother teasing her about it in the morning. she'll deny it all anyway.

𐙚 secretly loves showing you off when the bump becomes more prominent. you'd be out shopping with her and run into some old friends or classmates and she'd have the goofiest grin on her face with her arm wrapped around your hips as they gasp and coo at your belly. she doesn't get jealous at all, the fact that you're carrying her daughter is enough proof that you're hers and only hers.

𐙚 one day, she notices you're looking at yourself in the bathroom mirror, eyes raking along the new stretch marks that appeared on your lower abdomen with a slight grimace on your face. so, she makes it her mission to reassure you that you're still perfect and beautiful in her eyes. she kisses and traces her fingers along every single mark so softly it almost makes you cry, muttering praises against your skin.

𐙚 slow dancing in the kitchen !!! you'd both be cooking on a friday night, she puts some music while you're stirring the food in the pot, and she gently comes up behind you to wrap her arms just below your belly. she'd mutter how much she loves you and how lucky she is to have you as her baby mama, with her chin resting on your shoulder. she'd sway you from side to side to the slow rhythm of the music, humming softly. it relaxes you so much you almost pass out in her arms.

𐙚 when the baby's born and nat gets to hold her for the very first time, she's such a crybaby it's endearing, really. she sobs as happy tears fall down her eyes and onto the baby's face. she's actually the one who cries the most (more than the baby).

a/n. i had this in my drafts for like a month lol sorry

[unknownati]

vii. dreamin'

a/n: getting ekko high for the first time <333

i usually always see this fic the other way around but i js wanted to reverse it 🙌🏾 next few fics will prob be fluff to make up for my freakiness my fault yall

*typos do not exist to me anymore choosing peace ☮️🌿🌎 stay blessed hakuna matata

warnings/tags: black!fem!reader (again, just using aave but i usually have a black reader in mind 🤷🏾‍♀️), no physical description of reader, no use of y/n, slightly sub!ekko if you squint, modern!ekko, marijuana use, if the terms r wrong that's cuz i dont smoke im just a freak, shotgun kisses, contact high, hot boxing in the back of your car, grinding, riding, passionate asf, fluff and smut, ekko's in love with you real bad, ...breeding, this one's just nasty sorry guys 😕, also maybe a little ooc

______________________________________________

ekko gets high on the way you look when you smoke.

a blunt—a neatly packed backwood—between your glossy lips. watching the flame from your lighter dance around illuminate your features with a golden light. the frayed end catches, glowing briefly before dissipating as you take the first pull, the cloud of smoke swirling around you, it was a sight for sore eyes.

ekko always watches in silence, the thick vapor settling in his lungs. he's definitely gotten contact high before, feeling the edges of his muscles relax ever so slightly a few minutes after you spark up.

this time was no different, of course.

he’d planned the night with excitement, he always did after realizing he wasn’t taking you out as often as he’d like. monthly dates; something to make up for it. he had no doubt this one was the date of all dates.

this time, he hit you with the, “i know a spot,” but insisted it had to be your car. no question. you didn’t mind—not like you were driving, anyway.

the place he drove you to could only be described as breathtaking. you were parked perched on a cliff overlooking a lake, moonlight glittering off of the water. waterfalls cascaded in the distance, crashing down on the water in a gentle purr. twinkling fairy lights hung from the trees, casting a soft glow around the area. you gasped in fascination, the cutest, "there's more!" replacing your expression with a smile.

he clicked a button on the car fob, the trunk clicking open. your eyes widen upon finding a picnic was laid out in perfect simplicity.

"how'd you hide this from me?" you marvel, crawling into the trunk. ekko snickers.

"you don't carry anything to your trunk."

"is this why you needed my car?"

"yeah, your trunk's actually able to be sat in."

you pout in adoration. "you're so cute," you thank him with a peck to his cheek.

__________________________________________

nearing the end of the night, the two of you migrated to the backseat, r&b nearly whispering in the background. in your search for a phone charger, you found a half-smoked blunt on the ash tray in your car.

"look at god," you grinned, settling back down and tugging a cheetah-print lighter out of your pocket, igniting the burnt end. closed windows jail the smoke inside the car walls, so when you exhaled the smoke it immediately flooded his nostrils. he coughed, a light chuckle overlapping his sputters.

"sorry," you whispered half-heartedly, resting your wrist against your knee. you catch his gaze, the arch of your brow raising. "you want a hit?"

"what?" he croaked after a beat. your arm straightens to offer the blunt to him. "...nah, i don't even know how."

"you forreal?" you snicker. "...want me to teach you?" consideration; then hesitation. his lips twist. "you don't have to if you don't want to."

eventually, his shoulders raise and fall and he murmurs 'i'll try,' your body already excitedly scooting closer to him the moment he shrugged.

"yay! okay, so all you wanna do is jus'...relax 'n inhale. don't suck, inhale. slow and steady."

he nods, half-lidded eyes following your hand as you brought the blunt to his plump lips. you wished you could get that image permanently tattoo'd on your lids. ekko takes a moment to register your instructions and inhales, yet he bails last second, tearing it from his mouth and coughing into his elbow. you can see smoke exiting his nostrils in tendrils with each cough, though.

"you almost got it!" you laugh, proud.

"yeah but—" he gets interrupted by his cough, his brows furrowing. "the taste—"

"you can taste it?" you question, intrigued.

"i think?"

hearing the giggle that filled the walls of the car while you took the blunt back from him made embarrassing himself a little more worth it.

"you looked good as fuck though," you praise.

"did i really?"

"yeah, but when do you not?"

a cool chuckle leaves his lips. "you right."

silence falls between you for a moment before a lightbulb flickers alive in your head.

"got an idea," you announce, shifting your weight closer toward him again. you bring the blunt back to your lips, taking a long pull that almost makes you pass out. your free thumb presses into his lip, prying his lips ajar.

leaning into his space, you blew the smoke into his mouth. he completed the kiss, eyes fluttering closed. searching hands immediately found purchase on your waist to pull your weight into his lap. you grind down into him, coaxing a moan out of him that has immediately has you soaked, pushing down into him again and again.

blood immediately starts rushing down and up at the same time. his dick pokes at your thigh and you laugh, surprised at how quick you got him worked up.

his hands creep up your wielding wrist, tugging the backwood toward his lips.

"tryin' again?" your head tilts, hips not halting their slow winding movements. ekko nods, peeking down at your hand as he draws air in. withdrawing, his head leans back and smoke fogs around the two of you.

"you did it baby, good. fast learner."

the slow drawl of your voice seeped into his ears and directly into his bloodstream.

he started to understand why you smoked so often. the euphoric high was rushing to his head and making his breath hitch, yet he wasn't sure if it was from you or the weed. his hips push up to meet yours.

"i need you so bad," he gasps huskily, pawing at your top.

"shiiiit, that's all you had to say."

you tug your shirt off, shifting awkwardly as you remove your pants before settling back into his lap. he pulls off his shirt at the same time, both of your clothes discarded carelessly into the front seat. you lean down to avoid straining your neck against the roof, but the kiss lingers so long that it didn't seem to matter.

you shift in his lap, gliding closer towards his knees. your hands dance down from his shoulder, fingertips gliding along scar-riddled skin. the trail of white hair tracking down from his naval to the hem of his pants was tantalizing, a sight you don't think you'll ever grow sick of. you absentmindedly stick your hand in his boxers and tug his length out, closing your fist around the tip. his abs quiver when you stroke along it.

you both hold your breath as you lift your hips, a featherlight grasp on the base of the head guiding him towards your core. his weeping tip presses against your clit before sliding towards your entrance. eventually you're sinking down, slow, torturous. two relieved exhales spew out, a silent 'finally' from the both of you.

"y'feel so good, firefly." he murmurs, brows tightly knitted together as you relax on your knees. his hands cup the sides of your ass, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip.

you lean onto his shoulder, rising slow and falling hard.

"shit," you mewl, grinding your hips into him. his hands fly to your hips, his own unintentionally jerking up to meet yours halfway.

you take another hit of the blunt, transporting the smoke to ekko's mouth as you kiss him. the car rocks with your desperate movements, windows fogging.

when you pull away, his glassy eyes dart down to watch where you two connect. you grab his chin and make him face you.

"you're like a fuckin' angel," you punctuate your words with a shaky hand gliding up the back of his buzzed head, white locks tangling in between your digits. "wish i could stay like this forever."

he smiles, though you barely see it when your eyes screw shut. the tip of his dick hits a spot that sends a burst up your spine and you straighten up, your crown thunking against the car roof.

you hear an amused laugh and you scowl. his hand immediately presses against the back of your neck and pulls you down. your sweaty foreheads bump together, eye contact struggling to become a possibility when yours keep rolling back.

for a moment, time slows down. your fingers fumble, dropping your blunt on the rubber mat lining your car floor. your hand meets his chest and you bounce on him, hungered and impatient. whines and groans bounce off the windows, your unoccupied hand patting around to find ekko's hand. clammy fingers intertwine; you squeeze, tight.

"gonna cum, fuck—love you so fuckin' much," you whisper, warm breath tickling his nose. he flashes you a smile and a groan takes it's place. the hand that once graced the back of your neck moved and his arm wraps around your waist, chests pressing against each other.

"i love you too," he whispers back, pressing his lips your collarbone. that phrase was all you needed, your eyes squeezing shut, your tongue stuttering his name and chanting it like a prayer. your hips falter as you reach your climax.

after catching your breath, you push ekko's arm off of you and brace yourself on his shoulders. rise, fall, rise, fall; you find your pacing again to bring him to completion. your foreheads don't separate for a moment, except for when you kiss.

"i'm...fuck—" he can barely get his words out, his muscles a wobbly jello beneath his skin. "close, baby. i'm so close."

it's a warning, but you don't get off of him. you just ride him faster and his groans lace into whines, a trembling hand weakly tapping your thigh.

"fuck, baby i said—"

your walls tightly squeeze around him and you do nothing but stare at him. "i heard you."

he swears he felt his soul exit and reenter his body in those few moments.

his head tosses back against the headrest, struggling to keep his desperate moans contained as he releases inside you, warmth flooding your insides.

when he comes down from his (orgasmic) high, you still don't get off, feeling him slowly grow soft inside of you. your head weakly falls onto his shoulder.

"...i'm tired," he comments.

"i'm hungry," you emphasize, twisting a loc between your fingers. he chuckles; you just ate. you're not joking.

after a moment of silence, which you presume is from him thinking, you hear him speak up. "you ARE on birth control, right?"

"...no," you admit.

he sucks air through his teeth. "damn."

"bad damn or 'oh well' damn?"

"'oh well' damn.'"

a beat. "...random, but you know when i first met you, i thought you were a stud lesbian?"

"yeah get off me."

[makethatelevenrings]

Lose Control // J. Abbot x gn!reader

*shuffles in and deposits this before sprinting away*

I spent three days trying to write out a huge fic with lots of plot but my brain kept giving up and then I could only fixate on the idea of Jack suffering from phantom limb pain so I wrote this piece of shit that can hardly be called writing and now I'm going to throw it on your dashes and go back to watching Bravo.

and if anyone gets the nickname joke, congrats. ur in my mind.

tw: mention of blood, Jack has a PTSD episode and phantom limb pain, mentions of you (reader) nearly dying in the past

It’s noon when you’re woken up by a crash.

Instinctively, your hand stretched out to find the space beside you empty. The sheets are still warm, so he must have only got up to go to the bathroom. You were about to roll over and fall back asleep when a muttered curse echoed from the bathroom.

“Bugs?”

“I’m fine,” came Jack’s reply. “Go back to sleep.”

Something fell over in the bathroom and you decided to ignore his suggestion and instead, rolled out of bed. The second your feet hit the ground, the bathroom door flung open. Jack stood in the dim light of the bathroom and your heart nearly stopped at the sight of the blood all over his hand.

“Don’t,” he ordered. “There’s glass.”

You took a step forward, your hands outstretched to reach for him to check his injury, but he drew away from you. It was then that you noticed the way his chest heaved with every breath and his eyes were darting around rapidly, as if searching for something in the room behind you. Peeking behind him, you saw what glass he was talking about. The mirror above the sink was shattered, shards and chunks of glass decorating the sink and floor. You looked at Jack once more, noticing how he leaned most of his weight against the wall instead of his crutch.

“Jack.” His actual name coming from your mouth snapped him out of whatever he was thinking and you held up your hand to assure him that you were just stepping away for a quick second. You hurried to the closet and yanked on the first pair of closed toed shoes. When you rounded back around the bed, he hadn’t moved from the doorframe. He looked almost too rigid.

“Hey, come here.” You stepped closer to him and slipped his arm over your shoulders so he could lean his weight on you. The crutch slipped from his hand and clattered to the ground, but you paid it no mind. You just focused on getting him to the mattress. You maneuvered the both of you around so he could sit. He immediately lifted the hand he had injured so as to not get blood on the comforter, but you really couldn’t give a shit. Grabbing a towel from the bathroom, you wrapped it around his hand and then kneeled between his legs.

“Jack,” you spoke softly, as if anything loud would startle him. He looked at you with those chocolate eyes, but it was as though he was staring right through you. You raised your hand to cup his cheek and he inhaled sharply at the touch. His eyes fell shut and you stroked your thumb over the soft planes of his face.

“You’re not there. You’re here, in your place.”

“Ours,” he huffed out and you let your lip curve up into a hint of a smile. At least he was still so stubborn. The two of you had moved into a townhome together in the Strip District just a month ago and you were still struggling to come to terms with that. He insisted he would remind you until it was imprinted in your mind.

“Our place,” you corrected. You rubbed the shell of his ear and he let out a trembling sigh. Your other hand moved down to rub against the chafed skin of his stump but he winced the second you touched him.

“What? Does it hurt?”

“Like I’m on fire,” he rasped out. “Woke me up and I thought…it was like being back in the hospital when…Punched the fucking mirror to try and snap out of it. Sorry.” He grit his teeth at the very memory, and you leaned up to press your forehead against his.

“Look at me,” you ordered. “Jack. Look me in the eyes.” He complied and you kept his gaze on yours. “You are not there. You are experiencing phantom limb pain and it can hurt like a bitch. You’re here. In our home. You’re safe.”

“I’m sorry.” He sounded so broken that you felt his words fracture your chest.

“No. No, don’t apologize, honey. We’re in this together, right? We’re a team, Bugs. That’s what you told me.” This wasn’t the first time one of you had been through this. Usually it was Jack helping you through the memories that plagued your mind, but you didn’t mind being the one offering a hand to help pull him out of his mind. He had said it all those years ago when you were bleeding out on the floor of a trauma bay as he kept you stable despite shaking hands and a hospital in lockdown.

“Keep your eyes open for me, baby. We’re in this together, damnit. We’re a fucking team. So you keep those fucking eyes open.”

You took his uninjured hand and pulled it down to rest against the puffy scar that lingered on your abdomen. He traced his own handiwork with a delicate touch and you dipped your chin down so you could meet his eyes once more.

“And don’t you start on that shit about me deserving better or whatever,” you added. “Because I chose you, Jack Abbot. So don’t piss me off with all of that bullshit.”

He chuckled and then grimaced when the adrenaline drop made him realize that his hand actually hurt like a bitch. You glanced down at the towel that had spots of blood appearing on the surface and clicked your tongue.

“Alright, here’s the plan. I’m going to get the full length mirror from the closet down and you’re going to do mirror therapy while I fix up your hand. And then you’re going to let me give you a massage and maybe a bit of melatonin and you’re going to sleep until at least four.”

You stood, but Jack let his hand slide down to linger on your hip. He gazed up at you in what you could only describe as devotion. You reached up to slide your fingers through the silky soft strands of his hair, marvelling at the way the silver reflected off the dim lighting from the bathroom.

“Thank you,” he murmured, dipping his head down to brush a kiss to the inside of your wrist. You smiled and bent down to kiss him. He tasted like mint toothpaste and your strawberry chapstick that he liked to steal. You let out a satisfied hum as you pulled away from him and stood up straight.

“Alright, Thumper. Let’s get you fixed up.”

[fortunekookie07]

Are requests open? May I request a sylus x wife reader (not the mc) where she is afraid of him and feels like he doesn’t love her cause of his cold and intimidating nature. Then mc arrives and she’s hurt and shocked with how he treats her. Now convinced that he doesn’t love her and hates her she keeps her distance and sits alone everyday on the rooftop. Barely eating anything nor sleeping properly she lost the will and strength to sleep next to him and sleeps on the couch or on the rooftop (after she saw him pin down mc onto the bed ya know that scene) . Even starts to think of packing up and leaving telling herself to “prepare” whenever he divorces her.

But one time she gets kidnapped for bait and injured yet sylus hasn’t come for days so she tells her kidnappers “ it’s a waste of time cause sylus won’t come for me, i mean nothing to him , he was already planning to get rid of me. so you might as well kill me right now and save your breaths.” Not knowing that her husband overheard her when he entered before she passed out due to lack of food and exhaustion.

Did You Ever Love Me?

The day you married Sylus was the happiest day of your life. You had been by his side for 3 years. It wasn't the easy life you had once dreamed of, but this was the reality of the N109 Zone. Nothing was easy, and everything had a price.

You still remembered the day you had first met, what a blood bath that had been. Your family had been one of the most influential in the area. Having long established their authority when it came to weapons dealing. Only supplying top-notch weapons.

From a young age your father had made sure you knew the business, drsminf of having you take over. He taught you everything he knew. From the making of the orders, to quality check, and even materials secured.

That day it was your parents 25th anniversary and a big party was thrown for them. Business partners and friends were all invited to the event.

The only thing your father had not warned you about, was the extensive dangers of the N109 Zone. He'd tried to shield you from just how dirty the world could be.

A rival family had crashed the party with a seemingly endless group of thugs. Before anyone had realized what was going on, gunshots filled the air. People started screaming and running in a desperate attempt to get to safety. Pushing and shoving others out of their way as they went.

A stray bullet hit your arm and blood immediately started pouring from the wound. You grunted as the pain slammed into you and momentarily lost your footing just a another bullet whizzed past the air where your head had been seconds ago.

You heard your father calling your name and pushing through people trying to get to you. You could see your mother sitting on the ground near one of the stairs columns. She was tying a makeshift bandage around someone's leg. Trying to staunch the bleeding.

You felt like your life was running in fast forward as you watched your father continue to push through the crowd and then he suddenly stopped moving as his eyes widened and he looked down. Blood was blooming across the white shirt of his suit and staining the black jacket. In the center of the stain was a hole. You felt sick seing that hole pierced through his chest over his heart.

"Father!" Your scream rang over the gunshots and panic as you tried to run to him. The long him of your dress got stepped on and you fell to the floor landing hard on your side. Pain zipped through your body at the hard smack to the unforgiving marble floor.

You desperately fought to get to your feet as it finally seemed like the crowd was thinning out. Thankfully no one stepped on you or your clothes again. Just as you reached your father the gun shots stopped and the following silence seemed to bring the air of dread.

The scent of blood was strong, making you gag as your stomach heaved. You push the feelings back and reach out to the injury, hands shaking as you try to staunch the blood flow. He grunts with the pressure and his eyes open slightly. You start muttering words but even you don't believe what you are saying.

"It's ok father, we can fix this. I'll get help, the doctor will fix you right up and then everything will be ok." Tears arr pouring down your face as he smiles weakly. He reaches for your face, trying to touch your cheek. Just before his hand can touch you a great force yanks you back.

You scream out at the pain, pulling you scalp. A heavy fist has gripped your hair, yanking the strands hardly and then a voice is in your ear. "I'll blast a hole in your head if you move a muscle." The voice growled near your ear as he tightens his grip on your hair. Your cried our in pain and he just tugged harder, you bit back the second cry as hot tears rolled down your face.

His arm grabbed your hand and forced you to your feet, perking you to face the way he wanted. He kicked the back of your knees forcing you to kneel in front of a man. Tugging your head back as he allowed you to stare at the man clearly responsible for this entire plot.

Fear stuck you as a cold, malicious smile stretched across his heavily scarred face. His eye was like flat steel. No luster or shine to its grey depths. A scar cut through his left eye and down his cheek, going all the way down to his mouth. Burn scars were also intermingled on his face.

His eye itself was an ugly milky color, it held no pupil or iris. On the right side of his face three long jagged scars could be seen stretching from his ear down to his chin. Little tremors went through your body. This man had an overwhelming presence and the sense of evil wrapped around him like a cloak.

"Well, well, well if it isn't the little princess. Your father was careful to hide you away from me. Protecting his biggest weakness. I must say I do admire him for that."

In contrast to his appearance his voice was smooth, a slight rasp clung to his words. Whatever had attacked and scarred him had obviously affected his vocal cords. He worked it to his advantage, speaking in a way that soothed you on the surface. Even if his words were unsettling or foul.

He reached for you, his fingers and thumb just barely brushing your face when a loud caw shattered the silence. With the bird cry black and red mist began pouring into the wide space and the air got heavy. As if gravity itself was pushing down on everyone and everything in the room. The mist covered and hid everything in its path. Blinking you realized you couldn't see the man in front of you.

A deep, suave, sexy voice seemed to come from no where as helped had seemed to arrive. "It seems you did not learn your lesson. I don't mind teaching it to you agiain, Osric." The mist wrapped around him, holding him still. Footsteps tapped across the floor, the occasional sloosh as he stepped in a puddle. Your body shuddered, knowing exactly what liquid he stood in.

It took a few minutes before you realized that the man who had been gripping your hair was no longer touching you, or even anywhere near you.

The mist began swirling into the center of the room, right next to you. Looking into the mist you could just make out a tall silhouette. As rapidly as the mist had spread it was now retreating.

A tall well built man was standing right beside you. Silver hair carefully styled. Red eyes piercing and promising danger. The right one seemed to be glowing.

"You have some guts, touching something of mine, I don't take kindly to thievery. The man, Osric, was hoisted into the air with the mist. He gasped and sputtered clawing at the mist to no avail.

Two men appeared by your side then. One offered his hand, bit you hesitate. Both are wearing black crow masks with subtle red lines on the face of the mask and a red tipped beak. Two red horns poke through the hoods they wear and a gold ring is on one of them. The two are slim and tall, you can tell nothing of their appearance. Clothing and masks make it impossible to discern any identifying features.

The first guy is still holding his hand out to you, he seems neither impatient nor upset that you haven't accepted it yet. Finally seeing no consequence to taking his offered hand you lightly place your palm in his. He gently but firmly grasps your hand and assists you in standing. He let's go after you are steady on your feet and positions himself at your side. The second does the same on your right. Like they are bodyguards.

"Screw you Sylus"! Osric sputters out, still trying to break free of the mist. His fingers are bloody from his efforts to free himself. "Luke, Kieran, see to it that she comes to no harm." The silver haired man says as he squeezes his hand. The mist constricts around Osric further cutting of his air flow completely.

One of the two lightly grabs your arm and spins you around just as a sickening crunch reaches your ears. This kind of thing happened a lot here. Those with power ruled over the weak. It was nothing new.

You had long grown accustomed to the way Sylua dealt with traitors and rats. He did not tolerate disloyalty and gave no second chances.

The events of your parents 25th anniversary party had happened five years ago. You often wondered how your life would have gone if you had never accepted his hand when he gave it. Your father had been supplying weapons to Sylus' organization for years. He'd apparently stuck some kind of deal with Sylus, that had involved your protection.

Sylus had married you, per your father's request and now he owned almost half of your family business. Haven acquired your mother and father's shares. He'd left yours to you.

At first you'd been absolutely terrified of him. His aura radiated danger, almost like he was a living grim reaper. He so often came back to the manor covered in blood. The twins were his direct subordinates. They followed his every command quickly and without hesitation. But at least they had a personality and could provide a sense of calm.

It had taken almost a year before you could approach Sylus without feeling nervous. You hadn't been able to understand your fear of him. He'd posed no restrictions on you, didn't make any ridiculous demands and had never threatened you with harm of any kind.

The turning point had been the day he'd come home injured and concern over his bleeding wounds had overrode the fear. Despite his insistence that he didn't need any first aide treatment, Sylus had not pushed you away or tried to stop you from cleaning his wounds.

After that he began spending time with you and talked to you. Before you knew it you looked forward to when he would come home and just talk to you for awhile. These little gestures and act of kindness had resonated in your heart and little by little you felt yourself falling for him.

He'd granted your request to be touched by him and he spent a night with you. Thinking that he too had given his heart to you, you lived your days believing that he loved you back. That was until she appeared.

In an instant his entire demeanor changed. He made her his top priority. Spending any and all time he had with her. Most nights he didn't even come to your room anymore. His side of the bed was often unspent in.

You hadn't officially met her yet, only seen her in passing. She was beautiful. Long dark hair hung in neat and straight lengths down to her very slender waist. Piercing eyes almost the shade of jade framed by thick dark lashes. She was on the shorter side, even you were taller than she was. This woman held some kind of connection with your husband and the knowledge that your place was very quickly being stripped away gnawed at you from the inside.

Wandering aimlessly through the manor one day you discovered the ladder that lead up to the roof. Even though it was cold outside, you still sat there on the roof. Wondering how long it would be before you were forgotten completely.

Despite the cold and the swirling snow, you dozed off hugging your arms to your sides. What seemed like minutes later you were woken up by a piercing light. The sun was beginning to sting your eyelids, squinting against the harsh glare of the sun's first rays of the day, you tried to sit up straight. Your whole body was numb and cold. It took several minutes to rub feeling back into your fingers.

Carefully moving away from the edge of the roof you stood up. Your legs shook from the movement. Having been in the same position for too long, they had gone to sleep.

You did some light stretches and gradually the shaking and numbing little stings subsided and you felt more sure on your feet.

Finally you made your way to the roof latch, having left it open all night there was a pile of snow at the base of the ladder and it was freezing cold to the touch.

You descended the ladder and walked around the manor. It was quiet, most everyone was asleep at this time. Feeling the desire to see Sylus, you turn around and head to his room. He was usually there at this time. You hesitate at the door. Whenever you'd come to his room he was usually accompanying you.

Just as your about to knock, a voice addresses you from behind. "He's not here, Sylus went out for work. I've been waiting for him to return since last night." Turning around, you see that woman. Feeling angry for a reason you can't quite grasp, you turn around

and storm by her. Purposely bumping into her on the way by. She stumbles but you keep going.

Your sour mood lingers throughout the day killing any appetite oyi might have had. Your wandering leads you back to the roof and you sit in the same spot from the night before.

From your spot on the roof, you can hear his motorcycle approach the manor and you sit their contemplating what to do. Finally after another two hours you head back to his room. When you get there the door is adjacent and you silently push it open. You feel your heart stop.

There on the bed is Sylus on top of her. She's pinned down and it's very obvious what is going on. His naked back is to you and her equally naked leg is wrapped around his waist. Their kiss is intense that you feel your heart break. His hand is twined with hers and pinned above her head. You back away and run down the hall and go to the roof.

Hot tears are streaming down your face as you realized that Sylus had never loved you. He'd just been indulging you for the last several years because you were useful. He could even hate you for all you knew. The one he truly loved was currently tangled with him on his bed.

You feel your heart break further as you realize that with no family or friends you have nothing. You had only ever been useful to Sylus because of you family's business. That was not love and never could be.

You cry yourself to sleep on the roof again, completely defenseless and unaware of the eyes watching you. When you wake up again, there's a dull ache in your head and a ferocious growl in your stomach, but you have no desire to eat or even move.

You sit there watching the stars for what seemed like days. Eventually the sky begins to lighten as the sun begins its ascent across the sky. You continue to sit, even as heavy clouds roll in. Another snowfall is coming, you remembered from the weeks forecast you had read a few days ago. But still you don't move.

It's only when the wind cuts through you, chilling you to the bone that you get up. Once again you rub feeling back into your frozen limbs and head down the ladder. You avoid your room and his. Just the thought of sleeping in a bed you had shared with him makes your stomach turn. Your entire body burns with the feeling if betrayal, but you can neither act on it or alleviate it. The feeling simmers in your stomach driving away the need for food.

Eventually you end up on the couch. The warmth from the fire burning in the hearth slowly warms you up and a drowsy feeling over comes you. Stretching out and pulling the throw down over you, you manage to drift off into a restless sleep.

After what feels like minutes, your body is shaken awake. It's that woman again, hate burns through your veins. You want to tear her apart and rip her to shreds. You glare at everything.

"Hey, the cook said you didn't eat dinner. So I brought you some food" She offers the plate to you. It's all your favorite things. A light fruit salad with beautifully cut fresh fruit and a stack of golden waffles topped with whipped cream and raspberries. Your anger overtakes you and you sit up and shove the plate away from you. She's so surprised at this action that she stumbles back, dropping the plate as she does. The delicate China shatters on the floor as the fruit scattered and the waffles sit there on top of the broken peices.

She looks at you with hurt on her face. "Why did you do that?" She asks just as Sylus enters the room. He looks annoyed at the mess on the floor. Concern overtakes him as he comes closer. Of course none of it is for you, she's the only important one in his eyes. A shard of the plate had bounced of the floor and put a cut on her arm. She had a line of bright red blood blooming out from the slice.

"Did you really think I would accept anything from YOU?" You spit the words at her like venom and stand up. "I know your not so stupid as to be unaware that Sylus is my husband." Your words are as cold as the ice outside. Red blooms across her face as realization strikes her.

You turn to leave the room and just as your about to step into the hall something grabs your arm and yanks you back. Your head whips around and your suddenly face to face with Sylus angry expression.

"She is my guest, you will treat her with respect. Don't lay your hands on her again." You rip your arm from his grasp. "You must think I'm an idiot. She's getting a hell of a lot more than hospitality from you. I owe her NOTHING. She is nothing to me but a sneaky slut that wormed her way into a married man's bed. Both of you disgust me." You storm from the room. As you leave, you take notice of the twins. They are also watching you, but you do not care.

You return to your room and begin to make preparations. You're almost certain now that Sylus hates you. "Divorce is pretty much guaranteed." You say out loud to no one. As you look around the room you realize that nothing in it is truly yours. Everything had been given by Sylus after your marriage. "What a joke I am. I must be the biggest idiot in all of the world. I never should have married him. He was a complete stranger. What a fool!" You kick the dresser in anger, the pain just spurs you on.

After ripping the sheets off the bed and throwing them to the floor your anger had only increased. Grabbing the nearest object, your hurl it to the floor. Feeling satisfied as it shatters. You begin throwing things all over the room. In minutes the neat, beautifully decorated room is in shambles. Glass, sheets, books, jewelry, makeup, and nick-nacks are all over the floor. You turn and leave the disaster you made, making sure to slam the door as hard as you can on your way out. The paintings on the wall tremble from the force.

You storm through the manor headed for the stairs again. You don't recognize the lightheaded woozy feeling that has over come you and you feel dizzy as you reach the ladder that goes to the roof. Halfway up, your foot slips. Before you fall, in a burst of adrenaline you manage to grab the ladder securely. Your heart is beating out of your chest as you cling to the rungs. "That was too close," you mutter taking deep, steady breaths.

Undeterred, you climb the ladder anyway, resolute in seeking peace on the roof once more. It takes a lot more effort to climb up than it had in previous climbs. Your huffing and puffing by the time you manage to get up.

As you walk to the ledge and glance at the snow covered ground below, you realize something is off. The footsteps in the snow are not yours and since it had been snowing for hours, the ones from earlier would have long since been hidden under more snow.

You whirl around ad your mind screams danger. You hands fumble through your layers of clothing to grab the knife you always kept with you. It was a custom blade and designed to attach to your bra. Although it was small, it was very sharp and could easily cut and stab in defense. As your hand manages to grab the handle a figure appears from the top of the roof. He easily jumps down to where you are.

"To think that the infamous wife of Onychinus' boss would be so easy to get to. No bodyguard?" He asks in a taunting tone. The man is dressed head to foot in black. His entire body is covered save for his eyes. Black as a blank night sky and soulless. He points a gun at you. "Drop the knife, or I'll put a bullet in you right here." He says his finger twitching on the trigger.

Having been taught how to fight from a small age, you fein dropping the knife as he moves closer. Just as he's within reach you spin it around and drive it into his upper arm. Unfortunately he was prepared for your tricks and fires the gun. The bullet burries itself deep into your thigh. You cry out and collapse to the ground clutching the wound. Blood seeps between your fingers and down your leg. Falling upon the snow.

"You're going to regret that." The man says as he pulls the blade out of his arm and flings it to the ground. He reaches out and grabs you. You're enveloped in a blinding light and then everything fades away. Sight, sound, and feeling are gone.

It feels like you're floating in darkness for a long time. You struggle to move, bit something is restricting you're movements. A rattling sound is the first thing you can hear as your senses come flooding back. The pain slams into you again and you groan. You realize that you've been blindfolded with a thick cloth.

"She's finally awake. I would really like to know about that blade she stabbed you with. It really did a number on your arm. It must have been very sharp.

"Shut up and just do your job. The boss needs information and she's going to have it. He said do whatever it takes to get it out of her. Just don't kill her." A gleeful cackle made you shudder and then footsteps came closer to you.

"Darkness makes the pain more intense. You will tell me what we want to know." The man says and then you can hear metal being moved around. Your heart begins to race. There is nothing for you to tell them. Sylus had always made sure that you knew nothing of his business and plans. You had only ever overseen the production of weapons. You didn't know their purpose or intended use.

"I imagine I'll get away with it if I do kill you though. Osric was his brother just so you know. Boss has a personal grudge to pick with you and Sylus. This is going to be delicious. Let's begin. We'll start with something easy." He said and then you could feel him standing at your side.

Hours had passed since the torture had begun, but no matter what question he asked the result was the same. You didn't know.

He had tried a variety of methods to break you. The first had been pulling you fingernails our. It had been excruciating and you nearly passed out several times. The he had tried whipping you. Your back was a raw bloody mess from all the cuts. That had made you pass out. His ways of waking you up again were resolute. Dumping ice water on you seemed to do the trick.

Your mind felt like it was going to snap if this went on much longer. Your voice was raspy and hoarse from the hours of screaming and crying. At first you had tried to hold back, but this maniac had taken it as a challenge. Several times he had said you were boring him with your instant responses.

"You're n-not going to-o get any.. anything fro-om me. I have nothing to tell. Even if I wanted to." This was not the first time you had said those words. It's just they fell on deaf ears. "Ju-just kill me al-ready. I I'm useless to yo-ou. He-e doesn't ca-are about me. Ju-just end it already. I-I don't kn-ow anything." This went on for days. You knew time was passing but you had no idea how much until finally a different person entered the room.

"Boss is fed up with you. He wants to know why she hasn't spilled her guts yet. He's tired of waiting for what he wants to know. Can't believe three days and she hasn't cracked once." His voice sounded disappointed and uninterested.

You'd lost count of all the methods they had tried to get you to speak. Several times you had begged him to just kill you but he'd only laughed in response. Sleep had been allowed a few times and sips of water had been given.

They had never removed your blindfold, and you were glad that you could not see what had been done to you. Even if you could feel every injury, being able to see them would have made it ten times worse.

Just as he was getting ready to start again, the door was blasted open. It sounded like it had been ripped right off the hinges. Chaos ensued with whatever had cause the door to explode, and the man started yelling.

"Who the hell are you? How did you get in here?" Crashes followed the words, and then a guttural sputter followed. Seconds later, you felt hands touching you, and you flinched, thinking that more pain would follow. To your surprise, the restraints on your arms and legs were removed, and then someone was carefully helping you sit up. A pair of hands touched the blindfold and then dim light hit your eyes. You screwed them shut feeling that it was painful.

Every part of your body hurt. Stinging and burning sensations were running rampant all over and you just wanted it to end. "We need to move." A familiar voice said in your ear. You open your eyes, ignoring the pain from the light and look at the voice. To your complete surprise Luke and Kieran are by your side.

"We've come to get you. Boss is so angry. I don't want to stick around here." The twins had their usual care free attitude as they watched you. "Why?" You asked looking at the pair. You could sense their confusion. "What do you mean why? You're Boss's wife. Of course he will take back what is his." One of them said as the other drapped a blanket over you and then carefully picked you up.

You grimaced and tried not to show the pain. "M-my leg is broken." You managed to get out between gritted teeth and gasps. They said nothing as they took you out the door.

Having never seen any of the place you were in, you were surprised at the twisting hallways and maze like route that you were taking. But the twins seemed undeterred and walked quickly. Before long there was a heavy metal door in front of you. It was all dented and it looked like an explosion had hit it. The door was already adjar and upon further investigation, you notice that it's hanging off the hinges.

Walking down another short hallway you come up into a large room. With a start you realize that blood is everywhere and there are bodies scattered through out the room. At the front leaning against a table is Sylus. He looks irritated and he has blood spattered on his face. He stands up straight when he sees you and the twins. His gaze hardens as he looks you over.

"Why did you come?" He looks at you blankly, his face giving nothing away. He just looks at you like he's staring right through you.

"Did you ever, even for one second love me?" You ask after several tense minutes go by. He still says nothing. Feeling the unsaid confirmation of what you had thought to be true now a reality you close your eyes against the tears.

A minute later and you open them again. "I am over this. I just want it to end. I don't care about anything anymore. I no longer want anything as I also posses nothing. You can have it all. I just want it to end." After letting go you feel like a weight has fallen off your shoulders. All the hate and resentment you'd felt several days ago has disappeared.

"Take her to the manor and contact the dr." Sylus finally says after many moments. The twins immediately move out. Despite their best efforts you get jostled several times and the pain makes you pass out. You surrender to unconsciousness, thankful to escape for however short a time it will last.

Over the next several months you are confined to bed to allow you injuries to heal. The scarring isn't as bad as you had though it would be, but it extends over most of your arms legs and back. The whip scars will never disappear and serve as a constant reminder to never show your back to anyone.

Eventually the day arrives that the dr tells you all of you injuries have healed and he discharges you from his care. Eight months have passed since that day and finally you are back on your feet. Having packed a bag with a few sets of clothes you grab the strap and the papers you had asked for a few days ago.

Without hesitation you go to Sylus' office and open the door. He is sitting at his desk reading some documents. You walk over and set two things down. One of them reads Transfer of Assets and the other says Annulment of Marriage. Placing a pen on top of it you say resolute "sign them and then you'll never see me again." You take a step back and wait.

He sets the papers down and looks at what you have placed on his desk with a raised eyebrow. "What is this?" You inwardly sigh. "Sinc you do not love me and I have no desire to play second fiddle to anyone else I am not staying. Clearly there is no place for me here. This is to repay the treatment I was given. You owe me nothing and I owe you nothing." You're confidant that with relinquishing your rights to your family's business and everything you endured being at his side will more than repay him.

He appears to be lost in thought as he reads over the papers. "You really want nothing in return?" The only thing you had asked for in the divorce agreement was that he not seek you out and that your paths never cross again. You nod and finally he moves to sign them. You turn on your heel and walk out of the door, out of his manor. This corrupt part of the city and out of his life forever.

A sense of peace washes over you as you get into your car and turn the ignition. Ready to begin your own life.

****************************************************

And thus ends another one. I did make some tweaks to the original plot line I was given because it flowed better in this way. I do hope you don't mind. I stuck to what you gave me as much as possible. I hope you enjoyed this one

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