#i will give you three guesses as to whose is whose | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

vanteguccir · 3 months ago

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤA DATE WITH MY BOYFRIEND'S GAY BROTHER * MATT STURNIOLO

SUMMARY　::　Where at the Charlotte, NC show of the Sturniolo Triplets Surprise Party Tour, the surprise revealed by Nick is a date with Y/N, Matt's girlfriend.

FEATURING　Matt Sturniolo x reader || Nick Sturniolo x best friend!reader　　　　　　　REQUESTED?　yes.

WARNINGS　::　none.

AUTHOR'S NOTE　::　that is my work, I DON'T authorize any form of plagiarism; copy, "inspiration" or translation! | english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

The big screen flicked for a millisecond before showing the banner with 'SURPRISE' written in big white letters, making the entire venue buzz.

On stage, the two orange couches sat like home, like that warm familiarity everyone already associated with the boys after three shows in a row.

Matt and Chris sat side by side on the right couch, Matt with his legs crossed and hands holding a mug, while Chris leaned comfortably against two cushions.

Y/N, whose eyes shined with pride and excitement, sat in her usual front-row center spot, the seat she’d occupied every night since the first show - a spot that the fandom named as her own little throne.

She wore her usual smile, the one that was soft and private when she was thinking about Matt, but also smug and knowing tonight, because this surprise... she knew exactly what it was.

The screen above the boys flickered again to show a countdown before finally transmitting them dressed up in suits, taking a collective inhale from the audience.

And then it finally stopped, fading into a crisp video of Nick standing in front of a camera, looking directly into it while adjusting his tie. The second he gave a crooked little smile, the entire theater erupted in cheers.

"I’m terrified." Nick's voice came from the mic in a singsong tone, scrunching his nose. "This is my first one."

Chris and Matt smiled widely, watching Nick's excitement as he explained the dynamics of the live broadcast channel and the hint he was going to show to the public.

As the crowd cheered louder, Matt and Chris got up from their current spots, changing to where Nick was seconds before while Nick himself made his way to one of the prop shelves on stage, reaching inside it.

His hand came back holding a single rose. Deep red, long stem, elegant as hell.

"A... rose?"

Chris tilted his head, already squinting like he was trying to read Nick’s mind. Matt just blinked at the rose, deeply frowning. Mutual laugh echoed from everyone as Nick made a show of putting the stem between his pink lips.

"Matt." Nick voice sounded muffle before taking the rose off of between his lips. "For you."

Matt cackled, taking it, then turned to the camera and pointed.

"It’s giving Bachelor a little bit. But I don't know."

Chris leaned in, taking it out of Matt’s hand when the middle triplet tilted it in his direction, resting his arm above his popped up knee.

"I’m guessing you went on a date or something."

Nick raised his eyebrows and gave a slow, knowing smirk.

Y/N could barely contain her own. Her right leg was bouncing slightly now, hands gripping each other above her jeans covered thighs like she was physically holding in the excitement.

"Alright, let’s have one person in the crowd to take a guess." Nick turned to the crowd.

Cheers. Screams. Hands flying into the air.

"One of the crew’s out there with a mic, they’ll pick someone. Choose wisely, we’re trusting you."

The spotlight scanned the crowd for a moment before it settled three rows behind Y/N. A mic was handed to a girl with long dark and a white shirt, trembling hands holding her phone and the mic.

"Hello! What’s your name?" Nick asked, the mic still in his hand, voice soft and sweet.

"Harlow." She said, a little breathlessly.

"Nice to meet you." Nick said, stretching his body above the cushions. "What do you think I did completely by myself, without Matt and Chris?"

She paused. A deep breath.

"You got a boyfriend?"

The crowd exploded in cheers, Matt and Chris laughing while holding up the rose. They knew that it wasn't that. I mean, they would know if it was. Right?

Y/N was laughing behind her hand, affectionately rolling her eyes with how Matt turned in his seat to look at her, silently mouthing 'WHAT IF IT’S TRUE?', and she just smiled, shaking her head.

Just you wait.

Nick turned back to the camera, now walking toward the empty couch again. He plopped down onto it, casually crossing one leg over the other.

"I hope you are all entertained." He started again. "And unfortunately, there’s a lack of a man in this surprise..." He paused, eyes gleaming. "BUT, let’s get into it and see what I actually did."

The big screen turned black for a second. A heartbeat passed.

Y/N inhaled, smile stretching wider.

The screen lit up with a soft, white light. The camera was steady on one very familiar hallway: the upstairs floor by Nick’s bedroom, right outside of it. There, standing right in front of the plain white wall, back straight, and plastic bottle of water in hand, was Nick.

Except, something about him looked... off. Not off in a bad way. Just... different.

And Matt, who had been watching the screen in full chill-mode, arms folded loosely, mic resting in his lap, squinted.

Because Nick looked exactly like him.

The jeans were wide-leg, same wash, same stitching, same fit Matt had been wearing during their trip to Milan a few months back - the pair that always sat too low on his hips unless he wore the belt that squeaked when you pulled it tight. He had on a black leather jacket zipped up halfway to the neck, and even though it covered most of the shirt underneath, Matt could already tell from the slightly bunched collar that it was one of his whites. The expensive kind. The kind he only let hang-dry. And the shoes?

Nick's body shifted ever so slightly, and Matt's confirmation was right there.

On Nick’s feet were Matt's black Prada loafers. The ones he was gifted by Prada itself.

Matt narrowed his eyes, eyebrows pulling slightly together as he leaned toward his mic, raised it to his lips, and with voice low but sharp enough to carry through the speakers, he asked.

"Is that my clothes?"

But Video-Nick’s voice just kept going, twisting the cap off the water bottle in his hand and taking a long sip before exhaling.

"I am so nervous." He said, eyes darting to the side for a second before returning to the lens. "Actually, that’s not true. I feel confident. I feel happy. And excited."

Chris snorted under his breath beside Matt, but Matt didn’t even look at him, didn’t move his eyes away from the screen. Brow furrowed, head tilted just slightly to the right with his mic still half-raised, resting lazily against his lower lip, but he didn’t say anything else. Yet.

"For this tour surprise." Nick kept going, stepping forward slightly so the camera picked up the shine on the leather of his - Matt's - jacket. "I decided I’m gonna do something that I have never done before."

Another pause.

"You’re probably asking yourself, 'Nick, what have you never done before?'" Nick continued, gesturing to the lens with the bottle. "And don’t worry. I’m about to tell you."

Chris's brows rose ever so slightly.

"Today, I'm going on a date."

The moment that word left his mouth, the theater shifted. Screams bounced around the walls, and every pair of shoulders jolted forward at the exact same time.

And then Nick's voice echoed again.

"But not with a man." He added, a twinkle in his eye. "I’ve never been on a date with a woman in my life, and it's happening today." He said, water bottle swinging from one hand. "Which, for me, is kinda crazy. Especially when you think about how me, Matt and Chris are literally the most emotionally avoidant men on YouTube. We don’t talk about this stuff. We don’t share this stuff."

Matt nodded sideways. Half truth.

"And yes, I am clearly a gay person." He went on. "So, this isn’t the beginning of some tragic reality where I go into conversion therapy. Absolutely not."

The audience snorted. Chris laughed out loud and dropped his head onto the back of the couch dramatically.

"But as a self-proclaimed gay best friend to many women." He said. "It occurred to me that if I’m gonna be giving them relationship advice, and dragging the men they date through the mud - which I will continue to do - then I need to know what I’m talking about. To have the certainty that I would, in fact, be a better boyfriend and man than whatever nonsense they’re dealing with."

And that’s when Matt’s brows twitched up again, this time with something behind his eyes.

Because Nick was smiling now.

Smiling that smile. The proud one. The one that only meant he was about to do something that absolutely no one ever thought that he would do.

"And as much as I may not like dating women." He said, shoulders rising with his grin. "I found the perfect ideal woman to share my first date with."

A long pause.

"And her name is Y/N L/N."

The theater cracked open with noise, a full screaming chaos.

Matt’s mouth dropped open.

His hand slowly went up to the mic, almost in slow motion.

"WHAT?"

The audience laughed harder.

Chris had thrown his head back, laughing so loud it echoed.

"Oh my God."

Matt blinked a few times, still watching the screen even though he wasn’t paying attention to anything Nick kept saying, then turned his head toward the audience.

"There’s no way. There’s no way."

He leaned forward, bracing his forearms on his knees, soft blue eyes meeting Y/N’s.

"Nick thinks he’s gonna take my girl on a date and be a better man than me?" He asked, feigning dramatic disbelief.

Loud laughs echoed from the crowd while Y/N only watched her boyfriend with the widest smile, crossing her arms in front of her stomach, lazily shrugging.

Matt shook his head with the most dramatic eye-roll and leaned back in his seat.

"That’s my Prada jacket." He muttered into the mic, aggressively pointing at the screen. "And she's now apparently his date."

The video cut for a millisecond before Nick appeared again. In his hands, he held a bouquet of pink lilies - huge, fresh, wrapped in parchment-like paper, and tied with a silky pale ribbon that fluttered a bit when he moved.

"First step and it's already something that makes me a better boyfriend than all the boyfriends in the market, is that I'm showing up with flowers."

The flowers were beautiful. Soft pink petals curling outward like open arms, green stems still dewy.

"Obviously, pink lilies. She’s obsessed. And I don't know this just ‘cause I've heard her talking about it many times before, but because Matt literally never shuts the fuck up about how she likes this color, that flower, how she hates yellow roses and loves lilies ‘cause of the smell, the texture, the aesthetic... I could write a thesis on this girl’s floral preferences."

A gentle ripple of laughter ran through the theater. A few girls leaned into each other smiling, and a couple of people tilted their heads with soft little "aww"s.

On the orange chair, Matt blinked slowly, and then tilted his head back with a grin that couldn’t quite decide if it was amused or if he was just realizing how often he talked about Y/N without even noticing. Chris gave him a light nudge with his elbow, watching Matt shaking his head, laughing quietly, resting his cheek against his fist.

Then, in a single flicker of an edit, the video jumped forward.

"Okay, I'm going down now." Nick’s voice echoed in a hushed whisper, the camera following him from his right hand as he came down the winding staircase, kneeling down at the middle landing, right where the stairs turned, and left the bouquet there.

The video cut again, smooth and still steady, now framing the living room. Y/N was sitting on the cream-colored couch, legs crossed, her dress flowing around her knees in gentle waves. She had her phone in her hand, and she was scrolling with one finger, nails painted the exact color of dried roses.

"He-ey." Nick entered the shot again, adjusting the camera quickly as he placed it above the coffee table, tilting it just enough to frame both of them.

Y/N looked up, and her whole face lit up like the sun. Her smile came fast and wide, eyes sparkling even more than the subtle shimmer dusted across her cheekbones.

"Oh my God, hi!" She beamed at the camera. "Hi, people!"

Matt smiled quietly at her reaction, fingertips meeting the golden commitment ring decorating his left hand.

Nick turned to Y/N onscreen and grinned.

"Got something for you. Don’t move." He said, pointing at her with mock-seriousness.

She pressed her lips together, nodding like she was holding in a laugh.

"Okay, okay. I’ll be good."

As soon as he turned away toward the stairs, she glanced at the camera again, her eyes wide with playful disbelief. She leaned in just slightly, bringing her hand to the side of her mouth as if whispering to the camera.

"He's such a gentleman, right?"

A few girls in the audience audibly awww’d under their breath followed by a scoffed "yeah, right" coming from Matt.

Back on screen, Nick returned with the bouquet in hand, a gentle smile still on his face, holding it out to her like it was something fragile. Y/N’s mouth fell open, and then she gasped, eyebrows raising as she reached for it.

"Are you serious?" She said, her voice that high-pitched kind of delighted. "Oh my God- Nick!"

He handed it to her, and she buried her face in it for a second, eyes fluttering closed with the sweet smell of lillies. When she looked up at him again, there was a soft, wonderstruck little smile on her lips.

"How did you know pink lilies were my favorite?"

Nick tilted his head a bit, giving her a look that was fond and offended in the softest way.

"You really asking me that?"

Y/N laughed, the sound bubbling out of her. She shook her head as she leaned toward him, wrapping her arms around his middle in a hug. She pressed a kiss to his cheek, and he smiled while squeezing her back, resting his cheek on top of her head for a beat before taking a step back.

Matt let out a slow breath through his nose, blinking.

"Oh wow." He raised his eyebrows to the crowd, voice echoing from his mic.

"Kid really took your girl from you." Chris giggled a little, slapping a hand over Matt's thighs.

Matt shook his head like he couldn’t even process it.

"Yeah. You’re telling me he wore my shirt, my jacket, my loafers, brought my girl pink lilies, and hugged her like that?"

He laughed to himself, dramatically leaning back in his seat and covering his mouth with his fist for a moment before looking at Chris, defeated.

"Nah, I can’t compete with that, bro." He said into the mic, totally deadpan. "He’s literally the better man. I give up. The man brought her lilies. I barely even water the lilies I give her."

Everyone cracked up.

Video-Y/N then turned and started walking toward the kitchen table on the opposite end of the room.

"I’m gonna leave these over here and promise I’ll put them in a vase when we’re back, okay?" Her shoes clicked softly on the floor, and as she passed the camera still recording them from the coffee table, she glanced at it with the gentlest smile.

"Don’t forget." Nick called out, followed by her voice, 'Never!'.

Once she reached the kitchen table, she carefully set the bouquet down in the center before turning back around, her arms now free, and looked over at Nick with this childlike little grin on her face.

"So... what are the plans for our date?" She asked, tilting her head, the corner of her mouth tugging up even higher.

Nick let out a short laugh, rolling his eyes.

"I’m taking you to lunch. It’s a surprise, though... Well, not that much of a surprise since you’re gonna have to drive because someone." He said, pointing to himself dramatically. "Doesn’t have a license. But I’m putting the address on the GPS, so like... You don't see the restaurant's name."

Y/N blinked. And then snorted. Loudly.

"Wow. Romantic and chauffeur duties. I’m spoiled." She said with this exaggerated eye-roll as she walked over to the couch again, grabbing her purse and then her car keys from the small coffee table, right next to where the camera was still perched.

"I cannot believe you just told me that I'm a terrible date." He gasped, hand to his chest like she’d just stabbed him in the heart, reaching over and picking up the camera with one hand, rearranging it on his hands so it could keep filming her as she slung her purse over her shoulder.

Y/N raised both brows as she walked toward the front door.

"I didn't, but if the shoe fits..." She mumbled under her breath with a smirk, not even turning around.

The screen cut abruptly with a soft pop. When it came back on, they were already in Y/N’s car. The camera was above the dashboard, framing both of them perfectly from the passenger and driver’s seat.

Nelly Furtado’s "Say It Right" played in the background, just loud enough to be heard over the gentle hum of traffic through the closed windows. Y/N had her hands on the wheel, sunglasses on, her mouth mouthing part of the chorus.

Nick leaned back against the seat after making sure that the camera was recording.

"Okay, so we’re on our way." He said, voice smooth. "Probably almost there, and Y/N hasn't complained about not knowing where we're going not even once."

"Do I have an option?" She cut in, raising one brow without taking her eyes off the road.

Nick grinned, shaking his head.

"No."

Y/N turned her head just slightly toward the camera, her lips curling up with this sly glint in her eye.

"So that's how it feels like to be Matt." She teased, lifting her hand from the steering wheel to move it around, indicating the driver's seat and the camera.

Nick cracked up instantly, his laugh loud and sudden.

"Yeah, but he's usually quieter."

"Hey!" Matt shook his head with a half-smile, hiding it behind his mic. "That was rude, Nick."

"Oh, shut up."

The video kept rolling.

Nick glanced toward Y/N, the sound of the turn signal clicking as she slowed near a red stop sign.

"So, am I doing good? Like, for a first date? How’s this holding up against all your past ones?"

Y/N slowed the car and gave him the most incredulous look.

"Nick. Literally... Matt was my only first date ever."

Nick blinked like his brain had short-circuited for a second.

"Oh my god. I forgot that you guys are, like... literal high school sweethearts." He said, squinting at her. "Like, you’ve been together since you were fifteen. That’s wild."

Y/N nodded.

"And you’re still winning the first date contest." She said with a small shrug, tossing him a look that was half playful, half sincere.

Nick smiled smugly.

"I knew it. I knew I was the man. I am the man."

"Okay, straight man." She said with a snort, rolling her eyes again, but grinning wide as the light turned green and she stepped on the gas. "Sounding just like Taylor Swift right now."

Nick leaned forward toward the camera.

"Someone put that on a t-shirt. 'I Am the Straight Man'."

Y/N was still giggling.

"You should create merch with that." She said through a breath. "But like, my first date with Matt was cute too, okay? He planned this whole picnic thing at our neighborhood park, and he brought that one book I was obsessed with and read it out loud to me while we sat under the big tree near the swings. And he made Mary Lou help him cook pasta salad in a mason jar. I still have the jar back in Boston."

Nick melted visibly, slouching against the seat with a hand over his heart.

"You guys are disgustingly adorable."

"They are, aren't they?" Chris chuckled from the couch, shaking his head while pressing the mic against his bottom lip, turning his head to Matt just to see him looking down at Y/N, who blew a kiss to him, causing his ears to turn into a pinkish hue.

The screen cut for a second again, and now they were at the restaurant.

The camera was slightly tilted, clearly propped up on the table against something - maybe a water glass or the pepper shaker - because the angle was a little off-center, catching more of Y/N than Nick.

The lighting was warm and golden due to the afternoon hour. Behind them, there were plants hanging from the ceiling, twinkle lights twisted around exposed wooden beams, and the soft murmur of background chatter and clinking forks.

The plates in front of them were full of pasta. Y/N’s was some creamy, tomatoey mix with melted cheese bubbling on top, while Nick's was a simple Mac n' Cheese.

The camera cut in right as Y/N was mid-bite, talking around her fork.

"... but I told him, like, if you say one more word about this shit in front of me while I’m reading-"

Nick was already laughing as Y/N pointed her fork at him dramatically.

"I’m serious! He ruined the book ending three chapters early." She said, shaking her head, but there was a grin tugging at her mouth. "He was like, 'well obviously the main character isn’t gonna die', and I was just sitting there, waiting for my next class, like... wow. Thanks for nothing."

Nick put his hand up.

"In his defense, the man was clearly not gonna die. He had 80 pages left and a dog to save. You told me this before."

"But that’s the whole point! The tension!" She said, laughing as she stabbed her pasta dramatically and took another bite. "Ugh, straight men are dumb."

Nick snorted.

"That’s homophobic."

Y/N almost choked on her bite, laughing into her napkin as she wiped the corner of her mouth.

"Okay, fine, not all straight men. Just ninety percent of them."

The camera then caught Nick leaning slightly into the frame, his fork twirling through his pasta as he pointed it at her.

"Okay, but be honest. Out of all the pasta in LA... this one’s still the best? Because I need to know that I choose right."

Y/N didn’t even hesitate. She chewed one last bite, swallowed, and placed her fork down.

"The best." She said, eyes wide as if to make a point. "If I was ever on death row- which, like, I hope I’m not, but if I was, this is my last meal. No question."

Nick nodded solemnly.

"Noted. Putting it in your file."

"Thank you, you do that."

He smiled, resting his chin in his hand for a second like he was just watching her.

"You’ve brought Matt here before, right?"

"Duh." She said, gesturing vaguely with her hand. "He actually found this place on TikTok like, two years ago, and he knows how obsessed I am with pasta, so it was easy to love here."

Nick grinned.

"Pasta is the best meal ever."

"I know, right?" She said with a smile so soft it was barely there, but her eyes crinkled at the corners. "We’ve been coming here for date night's and stuff ever since. One time the waiter gave us free tiramisu because Matt told him it was our engagement dinner."

Nick blinked.

"Wait. You’re not even-"

Y/N burst out laughing.

"No, of course not! That’s the thing! We were like nineteen! He just wanted the free dessert."

"Oh my god. Matt having criminal behavior, who would've thought? I love that." Nick said, covering his mouth like he was shocked.

Chris, still curled up on the couch with a throw pillow now half-over his lap, glanced toward Matt, whose lips were slightly parted in that soft half-smile. His arms were crossed, head tilted slightly before moving his mic to his lips.

"The dessert was worth the lie, guys."

Screen-Y/N pointed a fork at Nick with mock seriousness.

"If you add me eating on the video and I get messages about how messy I eat pasta, I’m blaming you." She said, laughing as she twirled another bite.

Nick rolled his eyes.

"I only capture the truth, Ratatouille."

"Ratatouille." Chris’s voice came from his mic, cutting in half with laughter that seemed to bounce in the walls. His body dramatically moved to a sitting position on the couch, looking at Nick with the widest smile. "That was such a good one, Nick."

Nick just affectionately rolled his eyes at his brother. Chris really thought that he was the funniest person in the world.

"Way to treat a woman on the first date, Nick." Matt snorted.

The video cut again.

Now they were outside, the soft sound of wind rustling through trees and birds chirping layered under the video. The camera was balanced on Y/N's purse, and slightly tilted but perfectly catching the scene.

They were sitting cross-legged on a picnic blanket in the middle of a park. A soft purple print spread under them, surrounded by open gel pens, markers, and two thick coloring books - big, chunky Bobbie Goods ones with rounded pages and pastel covers.

"Shut up- no way you guys got Bobbie Goods!" Matt's voice sounded high-pitched, his eyes running directly to Y/N's. "We were planning on buying those to color it together."

"I'm sorry, I couldn't help it." Y/N yelled from the first row so they could hear her from the stage, shrugging. "It was for a date, you know?"

Matt scoffed, looking at Nick, who simply ignored him, keeping his eyes on the screen.

Video-Nick reached toward the camera, adjusting it a little to make sure they were both still in frame, and gave a casual smile to the lens before speaking low and relaxed.

"Okay, so we stopped by this tiny bookstore a couple blocks from the restaurant, and they finally had these Bobbie Goods books that Y/N’s been, like, dying to get her hands on for weeks." He said, gesturing lazily with the blue pen in his hand. "She’s been checking online every day like an obsessed."

Y/N, still focused on the page in front of her, didn’t even look up.

"Lies. I checked every other day."

Nick laughed.

"Same thing."

He held up the coloring book to the camera for a second, the page half-filled with a very dramatic-looking bear wearing green sunglasses.

"So, naturally, we bought two of ‘em. And also... like. Sixty pens." He turned to look at the rainbow explosion of pens inside the small black bag.

"No exaggeration at all." Chris muttered inside the mic, giggling.

"You know that the bag comes with sixty, right?" Matt looked at him with raised brows, scoffing with how Chris just waved him off.

"Oh, and we also got ice cream." Video-Nick added, turning the camera a little more to show their cups. "Y/N got this vanilla-strawberry flavor with rainbow sprinkles, because she’s a little kid-"

"Excuse you." Y/N interrupted, finally glancing up. "It's called taste."

"And I got chocolate oreo. Obviously superior."

In the theater, Chris chuckled, arms folded.

"Okay, but like, he’s not wrong. Chocolate oreo hits every time."

"I will have to agree with it." Matt smiled, purposefully ignoring Y/N's devastating look at him.

Before Nick could say anything else, Y/N leaned a little to the side, catching a glimpse of his page.

"Why is your bear wearing green sunglasses?"

Nick blinked.

"Because he’s a cool bear." He said without missing a beat, eyes flicking back to the coloring book like it was obvious.

Y/N giggled.

"That is the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen."

"Excuse me, he has style." Nick shot back, finally glancing at her with wide eyes.

Y/N flipped a page in her own coloring book, revealing a page full of tiny mushrooms with smiley faces.

"Mine is objectively better."

"This one's going to our fridge. 'You still have it?" Matt turned so he could look at Y/N, gently smiling with the way her head moved up and down with excitement.

Video-Nick leaned over slightly to peek, squinting like he was analyzing it.

"Okay, it looks cute. I’ll give you that."

A pause, the sound of Nick's pen brushing over paper echoing.

Then Y/N made a soft noise and peeked into Nick’s ice cream cup.

"Can I try yours?"

Nick didn’t hesitate, just picked it up and handed it over without even looking.

"Knock yourself out."

Y/N took his spoon full of oreo ice cream and took a bite, the softest little noise of approval immediately escaping her throat, head tilting back slightly.

"Okay, that’s good."

Nick just smirked like he knew it would be.

"You want mine?" She asked, already passing her cup over.

"Sure." He said, trading cups without even a blink. Nick took a bite of hers and immediately nodded. "Yours tastes like my childhood."

Y/N blinked.

"What, trauma?"

"No way you just said that, kid." Chris's voiced echoed mixed with a loud giggle, looking down to Y/N with an exasperated gaze.

"Well, she wasn't wrong." Nick shrugged.

Video-Nick nearly choked laughing, ice cream in one hand, and marker in the other.

"Okay, rude. I was gonna say like birthday parties and move nights."

"Oh." She grinned. "Same thing."

They both laughed again, heads a little closer now, their bodies leaning in just slightly.

Y/N scooped another bite from Nick’s ice cream, observing him changing his pen color. A sudden breeze rushed from the trees around them, causing a shudder to run from Y/N's spine to her legs, her hand feeling extra cold with the freezing cup.

"Ugh. I’m cold now..."

Nick didn’t pause his coloring, taking another bite of ice cream.

"You want my jacket?"

"Last romantic man on Earth, I know." Nick muttered against his mic, smiling.

Y/N’s eyes snapped up, her face lighting up immediately.

"Yes please."

Nick sat up, his now free hands meeting the top of his - not actually his - leather jacket, unzipping it and handing it over. Y/N smiled gratefully and pulled it around herself without even thinking, snuggling into it like it was the coziest thing on Earth, inhaling Matt's and Nick's mixed perfumes. She tucked the sleeves over her hands and tilted her head with a grin.

"Thanks." She said, then glanced at the camera with a glint in her eyes. "This is Matt’s jacket, by the way. His perfume is still here. I don't think he washed it since Milan."

In the theater, everyone cracked up, some "ew's" echoing with the last part.

Matt blinked.

"That’s not true, I washed all of our clothes from that trip as soon as we got back and you know it." He pointed at Y/N with raised eyebrows before squinting his blue eyes, watching her playfully pretending to ignore him.

The video cut again and this time, the lighting was low and warm, the sun had fully dipped, and the only light came from the soft overhead bulbs inside Y/N’s car.

The camera was wedged on the dashboard, the lens slightly angled toward the two of them inside her car. You could hear the faint beep... beep... beep of the car backing into their garage, followed by the slow whir of the gate closing.

Y/N was mid-sentence, hands loosely on the steering wheel.

"... so you would have a different shirt for every single show, you know? Like, just plain shirts with something different written on each one." She said, eyes flicking between the mirror and Nick. "Could be something funny, something iconic from the city, something random..."

Nick blinked, then broke into a slow grin.

"Wait... that’s actually a really good idea."

Y/N smiled proudly, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel.

"Right?!"

Nick gave a single, very approving nod.

"I’m doing it. You just became my tour stylist."

"She is amazing, huh?" In the theater, Matt softly mumbled, earning a quiet chuckle from Chris beside him.

"Amazing and demanding." Nick complement. "I had to do two of each shirt so she could match with me."

Video-Nick reached over, picked up the camera, and flipped it to face him.

"Okay, so we’re back home now." He said, the light from the dashboard casting a soft glow across his face. "And before this perfect date ends, I have one more surprise for Y/N."

Y/N turned to him, eyes wide, a hand already on the key, the car now parked.

"There’s more?"

Nick nodded.

"Just one last thing. You ready?"

She turned the key, the engine turned off, and the whole car dimmed into quiet.

"Let’s go." She smiled, already cracking her door open.

They got out at the same time, Y/N bouncing on her feet as she waited for Nick to catch up before she pressed the car remote to lock it with a little beep-beep.

The camera cut to Nick holding it up now, slightly shaky from his movements as he trailed behind Y/N up the stairs from the garage to the main floor of the house.

"Oh my God!" Y/N visibly flinched and let out a little squeak of surprise when she stepped into the living room and saw Matt and Chris already home, lounging on the couch, faces lit up by their phones and the TV playing a random show.

Matt looked up at the sound and smiled so genuinely, like his whole day just got 10x better in one second. His hands immediately tossed his phone beside him on the cushion and sat up, grey hoodie rumpled and his hair a little messy, like he’d run his fingers through it too many times that day.

"Hey, baby." He said softly, voice a little scratchy. "You’re back."

Y/N blinked, laughing from the scare, then lit up.

"You scared me, I thought no one was home yet!"

Chris looked up too, his expression confused for a split second before raising a brow.

"Nick, what the fuck are you doing with the camera?"

Nick, as quickly as possible, turned the camera toward himself and backed up toward the stairs.

"It’s for the next vlog, like, a mini segment- weeks ahead, you know?" He walked as normal as possible to the stairs leading to his bedroom.

But before he disappeared to the stairs, the lens briefly caught Matt patting the space beside him and looking at Y/N with that lazy smile, his arms open.

Y/N dropped her purse by the kitchen table without even acknowledging Nick anymore, beelining for the couch and flopping down next to Matt like it was instinct. She curled up against him immediately, fitting right under his arm like that was her designated spot. He kissed the side of her head like he’d been waiting to do that all day.

"How was your day?" The middle triplet asked, voice low and warm.

Nick's background turned to white as soon as he got to the stairs, the camera lens now pointed toward his own horrified face.

"They weren’t supposed to be back yet, what the hell-"

Up in the theater, everyone was smiling with the real couple's scene. The fans loved when the triplets exposed a bit of Matt's and Y/N's relationship.

Nick was almost at the top of the stairs, still whispering urgently to the camera.

"I swear I thought they’d be home later." He paused. "Also. Pretty sure Chris saw me using Matt's clothes but I’m just gonna pretend he didn’t."

Then, from downstairs, off-screen, Matt's voice echoed loudly.

"Also..." His tone sounded casual. "Why were there flowers on the table when we got back?"

The camera immediately cut to black.

In the theater, everyone cracked up.

Screams. Laughter. Clapping. A few dramatic gasps from fans in the front rows who clearly hadn’t expected this as a surprise for tour.

The second the screams started to fade just enough, Nick leaned forward, gluing his mic to his bottom lip.

"Okay, so before we even say anything about that." He said, waving his free hand around like he needed everyone to pause. "I just feel like... we’re missing someone?"

The crowd was already catching on, shouts of 'Y/N!' were echoing around the arena in random waves.

"I mean, we can’t talk about the date without the actual date." Nick finished, raising his brows at his brothers. "Right?!"

And the screams just went off again.

Chris leaned forward, laughing into his mic.

"Y’all are crazy."

Matt was already smiling so big, shaking his head before meeting one of the security guards eyes stationed by the stairs, giving him a subtle nod, which the man was quick to understand, stepping toward the front row.

Still in her seat, hand half covering her mouth in that shy expression from all the attention, was Y/N, looking at the stage with a gaze that screamed 'you guys are NOT doing this', but she was already standing.

People were cheering, standing halfway up from their chairs, some of them even waving as she passed by with the security as if she was their best friend.

Chris cupped his mic dramatically.

"Be honest... do you guys love Y/N more than us, or-?"

The crowd didn’t even hesitate, they roared.

He winced playfully.

"Wow. I walked right into that."

Matt nodded, completely straight-faced as he spoke into his mic.

"Do you doubt it?"

Another explosion of laughter.

And then Y/N finally climbed the few small steps to the stage with the bodyguard guiding her halfway. She paused right at the top and glanced out at the crowd, her expression cracking into this huge, huge smile, and she lifted both hands and waved at every direction of the theater, her rings shining below the yellow lights.

"HI!!" She shouted into the air like she belonged to the stage.

The crowd? Lost it. Like, genuinely went feral.

Someone screamed "WE LOVE YOU Y/N", and without missing a beat, she cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted back an "I LOVE YOU TOO!!".

Matt’s head dropped slightly with a laugh, watching her with a proud, full of love, look.

Y/N then finally turned to the boys, walking over to the couch setup, and Chris moved to give her space on the right corner of the couch beside Matt’s chair.

"Alright, sit here." Chris told her, gesturing to the spot.

Y/N dropped onto the couch with a little bounce, immediately tucking one leg under the other, but before she could even settle in fully, Matt reached over and wrapped an arm around her shoulders like it was second nature, pulling her into him so that her upper body was kind of half-laying against his side.

He laced his fingers around her arm, holding her close, and then raised the mic to his mouth.

"So like... how’d you manage to hide a whole date from me that well?"

Y/N burst into giggles, leaning her head back just enough to look up at him.

"I’m just really good at secrets."

Chris was already shaking his head, bringing his own mic up.

"I’m not gonna lie, I’m still dizzy from that whole video."

Nick was laughing too, adjusting in his seat.

"Okay, yeah, what are your takeaways?"

Matt was about to answer, but Y/N was quick to grab his hand holding the mic, her soft skin meeting the cool metal of his commitment ring as she wrapped her own hand around his and dragged the mic toward her lips.

"This was definitely one of the best first dates I’ve ever had." She said into it, smiling like a menace.

Chris let out this little cackle into his mic, the sound mixing with the crowd's yells.

"Kid, you’ve had like, one first date besides this."

She shrugged.

"Still counts."

Nick brought his mic up again, leaning forward dramatically.

"Probably one of the best dates I've been on in my entire life, and it was with a woman."

Y/N beamed at him, visibly proud.

"The best date, thank you very much."

Matt smiled, resting his chin lightly against the top of her head.

"I feel like what’s so funny about this." He said into the mic. "Is that like, we never talk about stuff like this in our videos. Ever. Like, dating or anything romantic... that’s always been off limits for the most part. And you showing a full date to the world was crazy."

Nick held up his hands.

"Honestly, no regrets. It turned out perfect."

Chris nodded, agreeing with him before turning his head to the side, smirking a little while looking between Matt and Y/N.

"Matt, do you, like, feel jealous? At all? That Nick took Y/N out?"

The crowd ooooh’d as if this was some kind of high-school gossip.

But Matt didn’t even hesitate, shaking head.

"Nah. Of course not." He turned slightly, speaking into the mic. "I mean, Nick’s my brother. He’s gay. Y/N’s his best friend. And I’ve watched them do everything together since basically the beginning of time... shopping trips, movie nights out, car trips just to find a diner that serves something they want past midnight. This just felt like... another version of that. Just with... flowers? I guess."

Y/N laughed, her head falling back a little against Matt’s shoulder, bumping his cap slightly before bringing the mic back to her lips.

"It really was so fun. I feel like me and Nick already have our 'besties routine', like, we’re so used to doing stuff together, just the two of us. But this felt... different? In the best way. It actually felt like a date."

Matt looked down at her, that soft glow in his expression like he hadn’t stopped smiling since she walked on stage.

"I’m glad you had fun."

Chris was still laughing, shaking his head.

"I still can’t believe we’re all talking about Nick going on a date with a woman like it’s a press panel."

Nick grinned, turning to the crowd and raising his free hand in the air.

"Welcome to the first ever official 'Sturniolo Triplets Love On Tour'."

Matt snorted.

"Coming to all streaming platforms."

Y/N leaned into the mic one more time.

"Spoiler alert: I’m dating this one." She started, pointing her thumb at Matt. "But I’ll third-wheel Nick anytime."

Nick placed his hand on his chest like he was touched.

"An honor."

The crowd cheered again, louder this time, as the lights dimmed slightly to start the goodbye session, Nick fully turning to the audience and thanking everyone for their presence tonight.

Matt didn’t let go of Y/N’s hand, and she didn’t move from her spot curled against his side, attentively listening to Nick as Chris leaned back in his seat, smiling.

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theaawalker · 6 months ago

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Steps to Write a Cunning Femme Fatale

follow for more tips 💋 || request writing tips 💌

1. Establish Her Persona

Define Her Allure: Craft her as enigmatic, charming, and intelligent. She should draw people in with her charisma and mystique.

Give Her Depth: Avoid clichés by giving her a unique backstory, motivations, or vulnerabilities that shape her actions.

Choose Her Strengths: Highlight skills like manipulation, resourcefulness, or combat abilities that give her an edge.

2. Shape Her Role in the Plot

Decide Her Purpose: Determine if she’s an ally, antagonist, or morally gray character, and how her actions drive the story.

Design Power Dynamics: Show how she wields control or influence over other characters, often exploiting weaknesses.

Weave Intrigue: Keep her intentions ambiguous to maintain tension and mystery.

3. Build Her Relationships

Contrast With Others: Develop relationships that show how she contrasts with or complements other characters (e.g., a vulnerable hero or a rival villain).

Show Complexity: Explore the layers in her interactions, such as her ability to mix truth with deception.

Reveal Gradually: Unfold her true nature over time, leaving both characters and the audience guessing.

4. Create a Striking Appearance

Use Symbolism: Incorporate elements of her look that reflect her personality, like bold colors, sleek outfits, or unique accessories.

Convey Confidence: Show her self-assuredness in the way she moves, speaks, and holds herself.

Highlight Ambiguity: Blend qualities that make her both alluring and dangerous (e.g., a soft smile hiding sharp intent).

5. Show Her in Action

Establish Power Plays: Showcase her intelligence and cunning through strategic actions, manipulations, or daring risks.

Create High Stakes: Put her in situations where she must outwit others or face consequences.

Balance Strength and Vulnerability: Let her excel in some areas while occasionally exposing a flaw or fear to humanize her.

6. Develop a Satisfying Arc

Choose Her Outcome: Decide if she triumphs, meets her downfall, or remains ambiguous at the story’s end.

Reflect Growth or Decline: Show how her actions shape her destiny—whether she evolves, succumbs, or holds her ground.

Tie Back to Themes: Ensure her arc aligns with the overarching themes of the story, like betrayal, love, or revenge.

Examples of Femme Fatales in Stories

1. Film Examples

Phyllis Dietrichson (Double Indemnity): Uses charm and manipulation to pull others into her schemes, embodying the classic femme fatale archetype.

Mal Cobb (Inception): A tragic yet dangerous figure, her motivations blur the lines between reality and illusion.

Nikita (La Femme Nikita): Balances vulnerability and lethal skill, creating a layered and compelling character.

2. Literature Examples

Catherine Tramell (Basic Instinct): A brilliant, enigmatic writer whose intelligence and seduction make her a master manipulator.

Milady de Winter (The Three Musketeers): A cunning and ruthless antagonist, she uses her wits and charm to outmaneuver the heroes.

Amy Dunne (Gone Girl): Subverts the idea of victimhood with her calculated and chilling actions, redefining the femme fatale for modern audiences.

Follow || Like || Comment || Repost || My Novel

thank you, i am farkle :)

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a-b-riddle · 1 year ago

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Part Three

Warning: If you don't like Taylor Swift, you're not gonna like this chapter that much, homie. But So Long, London is so fitting for this drabble series. (I guess a series since it's longer than a drabble at this point)

Can’t stop thinking about reader just trying to move on

You had to remind yourself several times not to check in with the guys. It had almost become second nature doing something big like this. But going to another country…

Not that they would care. You told yourself. It was for the best that way.

The expo went better than you expected. You didn’t believe that there would be a line out the door of eager readers wanting to read your book, but you got a decent amount. More than a few told you they couldn’t wait to read it. Several asking for photos and asking questions on any future books, a spin-off or even continuing the series.

When one a particular large group of girls your age asked for a group photo, you could have cried. They were had found each other in an online book club. You had given them your book several months ago. All copies signed with a note thanking them for taking the time to read what you had poured your heart into.

You had spent a large chunk of your free time talking to them. Bonding more so as women than over your book.

"Have you listened to Taylor's new album?"

It had only been out for two days and you had been able to avoid it like the plague. You didn't need to even listen to 'So Long, London' to know it would fucking gut you. So you would enjoy your time in the states. Save the listening experience for when you were packing up their stuff.

They had posted and tagged you before continuing on with the rest of the expo. You had reposted the photo to your own social media. Or at least one attached to the pen name you had crafted. You only had twelve thousand instagram followers, but it was something.

The first day was much like the second. You had attended several Q & A sessions with a panel of more experienced authors and managed to go to a few meet and greets. Before you knew it, it was time to pack up shop.

The agent the publishing house had assigned to you had stuck with you for most of the day. You were able to pick her brain a bit about new ideas for possible future plot lines and her thoughts. Overall, the trip was great.

Not only were you able to make great connections and take a lot back home with you to reference, but for a few days you forgot what waited for you back home. Or rather what wasn't waiting for you.

By the time your plane landed back in London you could barely hold yourself up. You left the expo, went straight to the hotel to shower, pack and head to the airport.

Your flight was delayed. Your luggage was taking forever to get onto the belt. It was only seven, but fuck if you weren’t ready to just call it a day. Tomorrow you would have to start again. Opening up the shop. Coming back to an empty flat. Maybe start gathering up the items the boys had left behind.

Should you give them in separate boxes or just one giant one and let them sort it out themselves? It was easy to discern whose sweatshirt and t-shirts belonged to who, but when it got to things like socks and chargers...

Yeah.

They could sort it themselves.

You could drop it off at Kyle's when you knew he would be at the gym. He was good at avoiding you anyway.

It wasn't until you stood in your apartment did it hit you.

You were alone.

For the first time in over a year you couldn't call one of them over to soothe that ache of loneliness.

For the first time in over a year, you had to relearn how to handle just being alone.

You usually showered at night. Washing away the grime of the day before settling into bed. But today was a new chapter. You woke up wanting to start it on a good note. Plus you went straight to bed after getting home so you still had a bit of airport funk on you.

It had been a week. One official since you had sent that text nailing the coffin shut. You had touched base with your friends who didn't bat an eye at you dating four men at once. They liked them, even if Simon scared them. You didn't give them the details of the breakup or the cause. You were pretty private in your problems and if you wanted relationship advice, you would seek an unbiased unopinion.

You had a good group of friends, but the moment you told them that you were well and truly heartbroken, they would insist the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else. Something you were nowhere near ready for.

So you needed to look like you had your shit together. You put on a dress that was feminine and, most importantly, comfy as fuck. An A-line floral frock paired with a light sweater and some white trainers. You knew a few of your friends would be stopping by for tea so you need to look like you were taking the separation well. Even if you were barely holding it together.

With makeup and perfume on, you started the early morning stroll to your shop.

You loved openings. Starting up the register and selecting the playlist for today. Picking out the essential oil to put in the diffuser even though you mostly stuck with a lavender and vanilla blend during the spring months.

For the morning you stuck with a Taylor Swift Instrumental playlist you had found initially for studying, but you liked the peaceful feeling it brought. Even when it covered the most gut wrenching songs.

You had started to collect the online orders that had accumulated over the last week. Sending out the e-mails alerting to your patrons that their orders were ready for pick up. Luckily you weren't set to receive a delivery until tomorrow.

It was eight and everything was set. Although not many people came to a bookstore at eight in the morning, it really didn't bother you opening up that early considering you were the only employee that was on the payroll. It gave you the possibility of making money, but mostly you spent the morning reading or writing.

You flipped the sign over from CLOSED to OPEN. Ready to start take on the day.

You had turned the kettle on in the back room when your friends had stopped by around lunch. You always said it was just tea, but you always had an array of snacks on standby for you all to munch on.

Meredith was complaining about what a dick the new client at the law firm was being. An absolute slime who had been married to his wife for almost twenty-five years before he decided to fuck his twenty-two year old assistant.

Tabitha didn't want to talk about work. To her, her career in tech was just a paycheck. She did what she needed to do and left when she was done.

You talked about the expo and how your book. Although neither of them really read, they had promised that they would read your book. You didn't hold your breath. They had reposted your posts as well as making ones of their owns in celebration of you. Words of praise about your dedication and hard work.

You realized that even though they couldn't give you the support you needed as readers, they supported you blindly. You could have written absolute garbage, but they would still support you.

You talked about how many people liked your book and wanted pictures and to sign their copies.

Then came the question you had been rehearsing since you had texted them a week ago. They both shared a look before Meredith finally asked.

"How are you holding up?" You gave a half-smile and a shrug. So perfectly rehearsed in your head you were ready to deliver your lies lines.

"I'm fine," you lied. "It was just fading so there isn't much of a difference, I guess." Not necessarily a lie. "We just wanted different things and were on different paths in life." Not a lie. "It's for the best." You weren't sure if that last one was a lie or not just yet.

They both shared a passing look before returning their gazes back to you. "You know you can come to us about this stuff." Tabitha's hand reached across the table, placing a hand on top of yours.

"It wasn't going to work out." You added. "Situations like that don't and I should have known better."

"A situation?" Meredith asked. "When have you ever called it a situation?"

"It always was one."

"I love you enough to call bullshit." She raised her eyebrow at you, crossing her arms over her chest. "You loved them and you need to stop pretending this is easy."

"You're a divorce lawyer, Mere," You reminded. "You see marriages fall apart every day."

"I do. I get to see from across the table how a woman is still willing to take her cheating arse of a husband back. So the fact that you went from on cloud nine with all of them to not even talking about the break up is concerning to say the least."

"Tabitha," you looked at your only ally left. "A little back up would be nice."

"I'm with her on this one." She confirmed. "You loved them. Not that I cared, but if you weren't talking about books or the shop, you were talking about them. What you did, where you went. How they fucked you."

"I think I'll miss that part the most." Mere sighed. "I lived vicariously through you."

"You know you could actually date people." Tabitha suggested.

"I'd rather live with chronic carpal tunnel than a man." You almost choked on your tea. If you were wearing pearls you would have used the comedic relief of clutching them to break the awkwardness of the current topic of conversation.

"That should be put on a t-shirt." You suggested

"I wouldn't mind it on a welcome mat to be honest." Tabitha added.

"But in all seriousness, cut this bullshit." Meredith gave you an sympathetic smile. "We're here. Good, bad and ugly."

You returned her smile. "I know."

You had closed up shop for the evening. Your lunch had gone longer than expected so now you were left doing the dishes and clean up during closing. You were setting the last cup on the drying rack when you heard the front door chime.

Shit.

You must have forgotten to lock the door when you turned the sign.

“I’m sorry!” You apologized, making your way out of the back break area and to the front of the store. “We’re-”

“Closed.” He said, locking the door behind him. “I saw the sign.”

#captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #call of duty #angst #angst with a happy ending #john soap mactavish

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tobiasdrake · 1 year ago

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*deep breath* Okay. Here we go.

I don't think the Netflix Avatar show likes women very much. It's a great show for fans of Aang, Sokka, Zuko, and Iroh specifically. All four of those characters get a ton of great material. In fact, it's super great for Sokka stans, because the show takes him ultra-seriously and can't go five minutes without one character or another (usually a woman) praising him.

But the way it handles its female cast is troublesome.

Katara

So, all three of the main trio got some changes made to their stories. They changed Aang's story so that he wasn't running away from his responsibilities; He was just clearing his head and somehow accidentallied himself into a tsunami. Whoopsy-dooodle. Aang did nothing wrong.

They changed Sokka's story so that him being a leader of his people and a great guardian warrior is treated with complete seriousness. Multiple times, characters stop to talk about how brave and noble Sokka is for taking on such an intense responsibility, and tell him to his face what a great warrior and a wonderful leader he is. Also his misogyny is erased.

And they changed Katara's story so that she directly got her mom killed because she sucks at waterbending.

Katara tries to waterbend to attack the Fire Nation soldier but couldn't manage it, provoking the soldier to start actively searching for her and forcing her mom to fake a waterbending attack and draw his fire. They changed Katara's story so that her bad decision making fucking got her mom killed.

This is treated with the same level of severity as "Sokka was bullied by mean kids and also his dad doesn't think he's good enough to be a leader."

"I hoped Sokka would do better but not everyone is meant to have people's lives in their hands," Sokka's dad says of him.

Yeah, you're right, that's totally comparable to watching your mom get barbecued because you tried to waterbend in a situation you shouldn't have and then failed.

In fact, they give Sokka's greatest trauma more weight because it gets examined again with Yue next episode, while Katara actively getting her mom killed isn't brought up again at all. We get traumatized glimpses of it throughout the season leading up to the reveal, but after this scene in episode 5, it never comes up again.

But to be fair, Katara was a child. An event this significant would surely have motivated her, driving her to become the great waterbender she is now, right?

No! Katara sucks at waterbending and needs men who aren't even waterbenders to teach her how to waterbend. She requires instruction from Aang in episode 1 to learn how to waterbend, then from Jet in episode 3 to learn how to waterbend better.

And unlike the show, her relationship with Aang isn't a give-and-take; Katara doesn't teach Aang a single goddamn thing. He never learns to waterbend. She is a strictly a pupil throughout the whole season. Though she at least gets officially labeled a master in episode 8, so there's that.

In any case, the whole traumatic memory thing isn't even the only time she's directly compared with Sokka. Episodes 3 and 4 see Katara and Sokka bicker over whose morally dubious side character is better. Sokka likes the Mechanist and Katara likes Jet.

Ultimately, Katara is forced to eat crow when Jet turns out to be the worst, while Sokka is vindicated when the Mechanist sees the error of his ways and reforms. But not before two separate arguments where Sokka calls Katara childish and accuses her of acting like a little girl.

Arguments ultimately resolved when Katara apologizes to Sokka for not adequately respecting his very serious and ultra important role as village protector and leader. Gives him a whole speech about how great and glorious he is. And Sokka... appreciates Katara learning to respect him properly, I guess, because he never offers any similar sentiments back to her.

The show just... They need you to know how important Sokka is, okay? It's very important that you respect Sokka.

Suki

Suki suffers tremendously from that whole "Sokka's misogyny was removed" thing. Y'know, because they need something else to do with that episode. The show is deeply aware that Suki is Sokka's love interest, so they just do that right off the bat. Suki falls madly in love with him from the moment they meet, and spends the entire episode making goo-goo eyes and trying to get him to Notice Me Senpai.

They still do the "Suki Trains Sokka" stuff. But Sokka is a serious, dignified manly man worthy of the deepest respect now, so of course they don't make him wear the Kyoshi uniform. Instead, the main purpose of his training is to allow them to flirt some more. It's less martial arts training and more an excuse to grope each other and near-kiss.

Suki's just a waifu now. She still fights real good, but all of the stuff that made her relationship with Sokka interesting has been erased.

Yue

Yue, similarly, leaps straight to shipping from the word go. They write out her fiance, Hahn, by having Yue briefly meet Sokka earlier in the season. She spends one minute talking to him in the Spirit World about Spirit World lore; In that time, she falls so desperately, madly, unfathomably in love with him that she breaks off her marriage to Hahn and devotes herself to waiting for him to one day come to her.

"Never have I known such joys as that time you let me explain the spirit bear Hei Bei to you. Truly, we are destined to be together for life."

Like with Suki, they go out of their way to have Yue and Sokka already be a ship from the word 'go' so they don't have to spend time developing any kind of meaningful attraction.

They just. They really want you to know that Sokka is the manliest and most desirable man ever to walk this earth. It is very important that you understand how great he is. Women hurl themselves into his arms with zero effort whatsoever, because he's just so goddamn irresistible.

Fortunately, Hahn is super okay with this turn of events. He's the most chill guy ever, he gets along perfectly well with Sokka, and he completely supports Yue's right to dump him! In the famously misogynistic Northern Water Tribe, no less! What a swell guy. Aren't men swell?

June

June gets hit with that "rewritten as hollow waifu" stick too, but her eyes are set on Iroh. They rewrote June to be super attracted and flirty towards the man who was her unwanted sexual harasser in the source material. So that's fun.

Also, she barely does anything. Zuko hires her to find Aang, she succeeds, and then she fucks right off out of the show - But she manages to find time to express how unbelievably sexy Iroh is twice during that time.

She seriously just dropped into the show to flirt with Iroh and leave. She is unbelievably inconsequential.

Kyoshi

And then there's Kyoshi. They really want you to hate Kyoshi. She's constantly shot from below, as if looking down on Aang and the audience. Her voice takes on a demonic echoing reverb at one point as she's screaming at Aang that "THE AVATAR MUST BE A MERCILESS WARRIOR!!!"

She despises Aang, calling him a coward for running away from his responsibilities - Which, I remind you, is no longer a plot point because they unwrote that flaw from his character. So she's just a complete and utter asshole, shot from the asshole angle, yelling violently at him with asshole sound effects. They want you to despise this woman.

Azula

Awkwardly, they do not seem to want you to despise Azula.

There's a lot to be said for how Ozai treats Azula in the original show. The way the favoritism he shows her is every bit as cruel and manipulative as the unfavoritism that he shows Zuko. Ozai does not love Azula. He loves the reflection of himself he sees in her eyes, and his encouragement urges her to polish herself to ensure his reflection always shines through.

This is not that. The show instead erases the favoritism entirely. Ozai doesn't really care one way or another about either of his kids. He plays them against each other, bragging openly to Azula about how great Zuko is and unpleasably writing Azula off as weak and useless.

They've rewritten the dynamic between abusive father and his two abused kids in order to take Azula's pride away. Reimagining her from a gifted prodigy who excels at imitating the toxic behaviors of a father who doesn't truly care for her, to a put-upon overachiever tearing herself in knots to live up to the standards of her unpleasable father.

This results in a truly wild portrayal of Azula as insecure and jealous of Ozai's seemingly love for Zuko. Here, she is simply a browbeaten child constantly complaining to her friends about how mean her father is and conspiring to get one up over Daddy's Golden Child Zuko.

Which she fails at, because she backs Zhao. Zuko deftly defeats her without even realizing they're in competition.

Conclusion

The season ends well for some of these women. It ends promising that maybe we'll see Katara teaching Aang some day. It ends with Zhao bragging that Ozai just used Zuko to train Azula so maybe we'll see the more confident and misguidedly proud Azula some day. Yue becomes the moon like she's supposed to. June's still out there so maybe she'll get to do something again some day.

Katara gets to fight Pakku and lose, but she looks pretty cool. She gets to fight Zuko and lose, but she looks pretty cool. Azula learns to lightningbend because she's just so mad about Ozai's contempt for her and favoritism for Zuko, which isn't how you lightningbend.

But promises of future content fall flat when the content that exists is so underwhelming. This season made its feelings on these characters pretty evident, and it's unwise to expect better material from creators who've disappointed you with the material they already made.

The women of Netflix Avatar simply do not get to shine, outside of superficial moments like the "Women of Northern Water Tribe demand the right to fight and then fuck off and don't do anything for the entire rest of the episode" bit.

"In the midst of battle, we demand that you stop being sexist and give us permission to fight! This is a way better idea than convincing you to teach us to fight before the battle begins."

The characters of this show feel as if they've been reimagined to glorify the boys at the expense of the girls. The boys are treated with a great amount of care. They're dignified and made important movers of the plot, with their rough edges sanded off. While the girls are molded around them.

#avatar the last airbender #drake watches netflix last airbender #kyoshi #katara #azula #suki #yue #june

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whorelaud · 7 months ago

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loser!bf!rafe getting jealous after he discovers you have another man's name as your phone password warnings soft rafe, jealousy & tooth rotting fluff, wc; 747

“Hey, baby, can I borrow your phone for a moment?” Your boyfriend’s voice erupted through your ears, earning your attention as you adjusted the falsies around your eye, too accompanied with the action to acknowledge the boy hovering behind you, staring at you through the reflection of the mirror.

“Mhm,” you cooed, lips parting with concentration. “It’s on the nightstand.” The boy nodded, instantly retrieving your phone from your side of the bed, approaching you once again, this time with the intention of unlocking it. He adjusted the device in front of your face, in an attempt to use face ID, his plan backfiring when your phone lit with the ‘password required’ screen.

“What’s your password?” He clicked his teeth, leaning his weight against the desk, his figure filling the majority of your view. His fingers soared over the screen, while he patiently waited for you to finish applying your lashes.

“Luvdrew,” you replied, causing the boy to come to a halt, his expression twisting with puzzlement. “But instead of the e, type in a three.”

“Luvdrew?” He questioned, ridiculed by your response. “Who the fuck is Drew?” Your gaze shifted back to bim, dumbfounded by the bitterness seeping through his voice, confused by the sudden change in his tone.

“Oh, Drew Starkey,” you continued, flashing him a smile, oblivious to how casual you were making the conversation seem, upsetting Rafe even more. “You’ve never heard of him? He used to be my celebrity crush.”

“And you have him as your password? What, you think about him every time you unlock your phone?” His face fumed with annoyance, not failing to hide it as he clicked his teeth, tossing your phone back on the desk. “I don’t even want to use your phone anymore, let that Drew guy use it instead.”

“What?!” You started, a soft chuckle knocking out of your chest, fully abandoning your makeup on the desk, attention fixing on Rafe, whose face expressed nothing but sulkiness. “Are you jealous?!”

“No!” He spat back, eyebrows curling with frustration. “Why would I be jealous because you have another man’s name as your password, when you clearly have a boyfriend?!”

“You are jealous.” You snickered, getting up from your seat. You leveled your face with Rafe’s, tilting his head with a hand to his chin. He avoided your gaze, brushing off the touch as he seized his head down in his lap, not giving in to your coy gesture. “Look at me, I’m sorry! I’ve had it for a while, before we even dated, I must’ve forgotten to change it. I’m sorry! He’s a literal celebrity, baby.”

“Whatever,” he scoffed, resisting the hand engulfing the curve of his jaw. “Go be with Drew, maybe he’ll treat you better, since I’m not good enough for you.”

“Rafe!” You shot back, surprised by his stubborn attitude. “Why are you acting like this, I’m sorry.” You pecked the corner of his lips, mimicking your action when he angled his head to the side, a silent invitation for you to continue kissing him. You littered open-mouthed kisses to his mouth, chest swelling with pride when the latter smiled, pressing his lips into a thin line to hold himself back from further giving into your compelling. “There you go, don’t sulk with me, you know I love you.”

“You’re ridiculous.” He mumbled in between kisses, lingering for a moment when you captured his lips in between your own, his moving over yours in an attempt to deepen it. His hands sneaked around your waist, sandwiching you with his legs to keep you in place. “I love you too, I guess.”

“You guess?” You shrugged, “I’ll change my password to luvrafe, there, are you happy?” You muttered, leaning your head back when Rafe chased after your lips, desperate to kiss you.

“Yeah, yeah.” He rolled his eyes, hesitating to mutter his next statement. “So… is that Drew guy more attractive than me?”

“No,” you shook your head, “No one is more attractive than you, you’re the most handsome man on earth.”

“Oh?” He cocked his head to the side, amused by your response, seeking more of your attention. “What else?”

“Oh, don't get cocky with me.” You teased, grinning from ear to ear. You tilted your head to the side, your next sentence an attempt to rile him up. “You know, I might’ve exaggerated, Drew’s an attractive g–”

“Fuck off!” He interrupted your sentence before you could further speak. “I’m done with you.”

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron drabble #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron imagine #rafe obx #rafe cameron fluff #drew starkey #outer banks

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yandere-daydreams · 3 months ago

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exhibit #5 - omorashi

an installment of the freak shit march gallery showcase.

pairing: yandere!geto x reader (jjk).

length: 3.0k.

warnings: non/con, fem!reader, watersports, infantalization, mentions of physical abuse, physiological abuse, implied kidnapping, and humiliation. dead dove: do not eat.

Geto Suguru was going to kill you.

Slowly, tortuously, and with pleasure. The same way he slaughtered curses too weak to be worth choking down, the same way he allowed his non-sorcerer acolytes to be torn apart after they’d expended their usefulness. Maybe he’d make you drink boiling water, or battery acid, something hot and corrosive that would destroy you from the inside out. Maybe he would drive some curve-bladed, ritualistic dagger through your heart and leave you on his altar to bleed out. Maybe he would have you drawn and quartered, even if you weren’t completely sure where he’d find the horses. You wouldn’t put it past him, though.

You guessed the method didn’t actually matter. Whatever he chose, whatever grisly end you imagined for yourself, the fact of the matter stood true.

He was going to fucking kill you.

You crumpled into yourself, pushing your body further into the back of the closet. Hiding would’ve been pointless, but you weren’t really trying to. Suguru had locked the bedroom door after shoving you inside, and you were beyond the point of trying to escape on impulse. It was all you could do to curl into yourself and try to forget where you were, what was coming, whose blood was drying under your nails. Even that was a futile effort – successful only in dragging your last minutes alive to a standstill and giving you that much more time to contemplate your utter hopelessness. You would’ve been better off banging on the walls and begging him to kill you now. At least, then, he might’ve gotten it over with quickly.

You buried your face in your knees, groaning aloud, but your spiral into complete despair was cut short. Distantly, you heard a lock click out of place, a door swing open, a set of padded footsteps growing ever-closer. You were tempted to stay where you were, to pretend he wasn’t there, but that would’ve only delayed the inevitable. Instead, you swallowed your fear, pushed yourself to your feet, and went to meet your hangman.

Of course, Suguru was waiting for you when you finally opened the closet door, and of course, he was the pinnacle of composure. Calm and collected, leaning on the foot of his bed, his hair pulled back and his traditional attire traded out for a plain black long-sleeved shirt and a pair of loose-fitting sweatpants. The three jagged lines carved into his cheek had been cleaned, but not bandaged over. Either they hadn’t been deep enough to be worth his time, or he wanted you to see them. Hopefully the former, but most likely the latter.

He smiled when he saw you – the expression softened, gentle. “There’s my pretty girl.”

You weren’t so serene.

Throwing yourself into his arms was more of a survival instinct than any real bid for comfort. He caught you easily, laughing as you barreled into his chest and buried your face in his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” you managed, voice muffled by fabric and proximity. “It was an accident, I—I didn’t mean to, please don’t hurt—”

“Slow down. I don’t even know what you’re saying.” He rested a hand on the top of your head, combing his fingers through your hair. “Why would I hurt you?”

Why wouldn’t he? He’d threatened to break your legs for so much as verbally wishing him dead, before. This was worse. This was a death sentence.

“Because…” It was hard to find an answer that wouldn’t incriminate you further. You pulled back, gesturing to your cheek. “Because of the accident.”

He hummed. “Remind me which accident, honey?”

Something curdled in the pit of your stomach. You let your eyes fall to your feet. “This afternoon, during your sermon.” And then, when Suguru continued to wait for a proper answer, “When you tried to pull me into your lap. You caught me off-guard, and I—” Fought back. Pushed him away. Acted like a fucking idiot. “—hurt you. It wasn’t on purpose.”

There was more to it than that. His followers had been watching, and the beat of silence that’d followed your little outburst had rung louder than anything he’d preached. You embarrassed him. It was only a miracle that he hadn’t gutted you on the spot.

“Of course.” His hand slipped down to your neck, his thumb rubbing circles in the apex of your spine. “And how could I punish you for something you didn’t mean to do?”

Easily. He’d done it before – more times than you could count. Your wrist still hurt from the day he’d dislocated it after finding a few loose coins underneath your mattress. You still weren’t sure they’d gotten there, let alone where you would’ve picked them up, but it’d been enough to make Suguru think you were planning to run away. Justification beyond that was superfluous.

But this wasn’t the time to point that out. You only nodded irrationally into his chest, and Suguru chuckled, kissing the top of your head. “I think someone’s had a long day,” he murmured, squeezing you against him before pulling away. “Let’s get you fed n’ cleaned up, alright? We’ll talk about your bedtime after that.”

You didn’t trust his sugary tone or saccharine expression, but obediently, you muttered a small ‘okay’. Suguru pulled back, taking you by the hand and leading you away.

His apartment was a small, depressing thing. He had a larger home further from the city, one with spare bedrooms for both of his girls and a private chamber where he could speak with his strange, eccentric guests privately. His live-in captive couldn’t exist under the same roof as his beloved daughters, though, and you weren’t the type of possession he liked to show off, so you were relegated to a well-maintained, but painfully unloved apartment not far from his temple. There wasn’t much decoration beyond the steel bolts on every door and window, nor did what few personal effects he kept scattered around bring you much joy – a cat o’ nine tails draped over the back of the sofa, a vacant dog crate set up in the corner of the living room. There was nothing of yours, of course. Suguru didn’t really let you have interests beyond him. Anything that demanded more of your attention than needlepoint or absentmindedly nodding along to his megalomaniacal rants was deemed unsuitable and quickly done away with.

The kitchen was a little homier, but not by much. Suguru sat you down at the kitchen table before moving to the nearest counter. There was nothing on the stove, no ingredients laid out to prep, but an electric kettle simmered quietly next to a small glass container. He hummed as he worked, filling the container with scalding hot water, measuring out a cup or so of some colorless powder and mixing it in. It wasn’t until he produced a lid – thick at the base with a pink-tinted nipple spouting out of it like some unfortunate tumor – that you realized it wasn’t a container, but a bottle. For a second, it was all you could do to sit there, motionless and bewildered, and wonder where he’d managed to find a baby.

The lid was worked onto the bottle, the temperature checked against his wrist. He placed it onto the table in front of you delicately, as not to damage the glass, and your confusion immediately turned to dread.

“I… I don’t think I have much of an appetite.”

“You’ll have to try. Growing girls need their calories.” He fell into the seat next to you, tapping his knee. “Right here, honey.”

You looked toward the bottle, then to Suguru – still smiling, still unwavering. You took a deep breath, reminded yourself that there were worse things in the world than ego-death, and pushed yourself to your feet.

Dinner was a slow, effortful, and humiliating task. Suguru held you snugly, cooing out praise as he held the bottle against your lips. You tried not to think about the lack of flavor, or the way the milk clung to the back of your throat in clumps, or why he’d apparently had baby formula and a nursing bottle on-hand. The bottle was refilled once at its half-way point, then again as you neared the last few drops. By the time you finished, your stomach ached and fatigue had knit itself into the very fabric of your being, encouraging you to shut your eyes, to rest your head against Suguru’s shoulder, to fall into the repetitive sucking motion despite the knots of soreness forming in your jaw. Still, you knew better than to complain. As far as punishments went, this was relatively tame. You’d embarrassed him in front of his congregation, and he’d embarrassed you in front of the only person allowed to see you - him. Fair enough, good game, etc.

There was no pretense of autonomy by way of reward. Suguru kept you gathered in his arms – tucked against his chest as he carried you through the empty halls and balanced on his lap while drew a bath, the water hot enough to steam. You half-expected him to leave you to your own devices or, more predictably, to strip down and join you, but he just perched himself on the edge of the basin, only breaching the distance to wash your hair or lather your skin. It might’ve been nice, in another context, with a more loving partner. Under Suguru’s watchful gaze, it was hard to feel like anything more precious than a pet being groomed.

As Suguru drained the water, you realized you had to pee. Badly.

Which wasn’t surprising, on its own. You’d practically drunken half your body weight, and it wasn’t like there’d been many chances for a bathroom break pre-punishment, either. You did your best not to squirm as Suguru patted you down with towel, not to complain when he carefully removed the toothbrush from your hand in favor of shoving it past your lips himself. “You’ve already gotten in enough trouble, today,” he explained as he took your jaw in his free hand, holding you still when you reflexively recoiled. “We’d better make sure you don’t have the opportunity to do anything else you might regret.”

After what felt like much, much longer than two minutes, he let you rinse your mouth out without further intervention. When you were done, you lingered in front of the vanity, shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

“Do you mind if I…” You swallowed. “…if I get a few minutes alone?”

He hummed. “And why would you want to be alone, love?”

Your face burned. Suguru was always terrible, but he wasn’t normally this dense. “I, uh—Nevermind, I guess. It’s nothing.”

If Suguru noticed your discomfort, he was more than happy to gloss over it. Your usual sleepwear consisted of, on good nights, one of Suguru’s oversized shirts or, on most nights, nothing at all. Tonight, though, Suguru seemed to be in the mood to play dress-up – forcing an ivory nightgown over your head, combing the hair away from your face, tying a delicate, pale pink ribbon around your neck. It was only after he’d taken the better part of five minutes to slide a pair of perfectly white, perfectly frilly knee-sigh socks up your legs that he seemed satisfied, taking a step back to admire his work.

This must’ve been the second part of your punishment. It wasn’t as bad at the bottle, sure, but there was something about the way Suguru’s gaze burnt into you, the vague amusement playing underneath his lovestruck grin, the pressing awareness that he was enjoying this. You let your eyes fall into your lap, but Suguru was quick to correct you – cupping your cheek and tilting your head back, coaxing you to meet his gaze. “Feeling shy?” He squeezed, the gesture playful, yet forceful enough to bruise. “You certainly weren’t during my sermon.”

You opened your mouth to protest, to insist that it’d been an accident, but Suguru’s patience must’ve been growing thin. His mouth was on yours before you could get a word out, teeth biting into your lips, tongue raking over yours. You felt his hands, next – eager and groping, slipping under the skirt of your dress, kneading at your ass and thighs. You squeaked, jerking away, and surprisingly, Suguru let you, his hands settling on your waist.

“I’m sorry, but I—” For the millionth time that night, your voice seemed to catch in your throat. This time, you forced yourself to choke it up. “I really have to use to the bathroom.”

You heard him laugh, felt his mouth against the crook of your neck. “I know, honey.”

One of his hands drifted to your stomach, pressing down lightly. You tried to scramble back, but Suguru held you in-place – bringing a knee onto the mattress for better leverage. “I’m serious, it’s really—”

“I never said you weren’t.” His touch drifted to your cunt, two fingers dragging circles over your clit. For all the time he’d spent picking out your clothes, panties had been strategically forgotten. “It’s alright. I’m here whenever you’re ready.”

Your breaking point was staggeringly abrupt and humiliatingly minor. Suguru’s arm wrapping around your waist, his body turning over yours as he fell onto the mattress and dragged you on top of him. The bulk of his thigh pressed into your cunt, and something inside you split, cracked, spilled. It was too fast, too hot, too wet, and you couldn’t seem to make it stop. You clenched your eyes shut, anything not to have to see the growing yellow stain spreading across the white of your nightgown, but that didn’t save you from the warmth trickling down your legs, the puddle quickly forming on Suguru’s lap.

It was a dizzying juxtaposition; the tightness in your lower stomach as more pressure was put on your bladder, the heat pooling in your core as Suguru continued to trace aimless patterns into your clit. His mouth latched onto your throat, sucking hickeys into tender skin before dropping lower, following the curve of your breast. His lips sealed around your nipple just as his fingers fell from your clit to your pussy, thrusting into you with only the slightest hint of warning.

Suguru was never careful during sex, not beyond what it took to keep from breaking your neck when he wrapped his hands around your throat, but he was normally deliberate, normally intentional in the ways he used and contorted your body. Now, he seemed determined to curl and spread his digits with little to no regard for your pleasure, to batter his fingers into your cunt like he was trying to split you apart from the inside out. It hurt, but even worse, it was working – slick staining the inside of your thighs as you struggled to close your legs around his hand. You tried to get him away from you, to dig your nails into his shoulder and scratch at his chest, but Suguru only groaned into your chest, sucking that much more harshly.

It didn’t save you from his laugh – barking and cruel – or his hand on your stomach, palm pushing into your bladder, milking your embarrassment. “This,” he hissed, venom sharpening the edges of his infantilizing coo. “is a fucking accident. The shit you pulled during my sermon – that was a brat begging to be put in her place. Don’t try to pass off one for the other again.”

You tried to open your mouth, to spit that you should’ve clawed out his eyes when you’d had the chance, but the only noise you seemed able to make was an unsteady, trembling whine. A flood of humiliated tears escaped despite your best efforts, forming searing tracks down the length of your face, and Suguru leaned towards you, pressing a light kiss into your temple before running the flat of his tongue over your left cheek. There was no attempt at comfort as he dragged your hips against his, as freed his cock and aligned his tip with your entrance. He thrust into you as the last deposits of piss were forced out of your bladder, your mess leaking down his shaft. Suguru only moaned, twitching inside of you.

You didn’t want to cry. Really, you didn’t want to, but apparently, you’d managed to lose control of more than one of your bodily functions. Suguru crooned as the first sob broke past your lips, then another, until you were all-but wailing as he bounced you on his cock. With an artificial sort of exasperation, he lowered you gently onto the mattress, rolling his hips against yours. “Aw, baby, did I hurt your feelings?” The question was sardonic, teasing. As if both of you weren’t covered in your piss. “Here – I’ve got just the thing for delicate little princesses like you.”

Through tear-blurred vision, you watched him pull his shirt over his head and throw it thoughtlessly over his shoulder. A hand was brought to the back of your head and your mouth forced against his chest – lips smashed against his nipple. “Go ahead.” His nails scraped against your scalp. “All little girls love their pacifiers, don’t they?”

It was a wonder, how you’d ever thought you would get away with damaging his pride so easily.

It was a wonder, why you’d ever thought death was the worst thing he could force onto you.

He thrust into you, and you went limp underneath him. A whimper dying in the back of your throat, you let your mouth fall open, latched onto his chest, and started to nurse.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk x reader #jjk imagines #yandere jjk #yandere geto suguru #geto x reader #geto suguru x reader

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mrskokushibo · 11 months ago

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Dinner Party

Kyojuro x Sanemi x Tengen&wives x fem!reader

Warnings: Sex, Dirty Smut, MDNI, NSFW, strictly 18+. Group sex . Modern AU. Nearly 5k words Smut. Orgy. Rough oral.

Summary: Sanemi, your husband Kyojuro, and you enjoy dinner with Tengen and his wives at their place. The party ends with...sex. Essentially a pure smut. Enjoy!

Part 2: After Party out now

Masterlist

As Kyoujuro’s wife, you spent a lot of time with his co-workers. They all worked at a small, tight-knit firm that the three men founded together. Kyoujuro was friends with Tengen and Sanemi long before the two of you met, and they were the first people, even before his parents, that he introduced you to. And they were a lovely bunch. The flamboyant Tengen with his three gorgeous wives and the slightly on-edge Sanemi – a forever bachelor - the guy had much luck with women and yet did not seem to want to settle for anyone.

It was Saturday night and Tengen had you all over for one of his lavish dinners. His wives, Makio, Hinatsuru and Suma were the most gracious of hosts, preparing stunning meals and creating a lovely atmosphere with their bubbly personalities. The house was a modern villa, with a large and stylishly decorated living and dining space all wrapped around a Japanese-inspired closed-in courtyard that housed a garden and an onsen. You all usually stayed late into the night, chatting away, watching movies, and drinking.

The atmosphere tonight was just as friendly, however, something seemed to be on Tengen’s mind all night. He kept on giving you quick glances all through the dinner and lowering his gaze every time you caught him doing it.

After dinner, everyone made themselves comfortable in the large lounge, the girls snuggled up to Tengen, but he kept on looking at you, his gaze baring mischief. Kyoujuro, as always, was a bit too tipsy to even notice what Tengen was doing, he did not drink on a normal basis, so every time he did, he could not really handle it. He leaned his head on your shoulder and said out into the room,

‘Maybe we should go home now y/n, and leave our lovely hosts to enjoy the evening.’

‘Well, Kyo, good that you speak up, I was just about to suggest that you all stay here with us tonight’

The gorgeous white-haired man suddenly said, all the time looking you in the eyes, his movie-star smile was as wide as it got.

‘It is fine. Thanks for the offer, but we can take a taxi home, no need to have us mess up your guest room’ Kyojuro replied.

Tengen threw his head back and laughed.

‘Oh, no, my dear Kyo. Innocent as always.’ He smirked. ‘What I meant is, that you join us for our nightly activities this evening.’

He looked you in the eye again, as in anticipation, and then confronted you with zero shame.

‘What do you say, y/n. Would you mind sharing your husband with my girls?’

You looked at your husband and he was simply too stunned to even react. Before you could answer Tengen, he nodded toward Sanemi

‘How about you? Care for some fun?’

Sanemi smirked ‘You know I am always up for a good fuck.’

Tengen looked back at you and Kyojuro.

‘So, how about you guys?’ question directed more at you than Kyo.

You looked at Kyo whose cheeks were now red as a beet.

‘What do you think?’ you asked him

‘It is up to you, I guess’ he nearly stammered.

You looked back at Tengen and something very basic was waking up in you. His normally charming gaze was also turning darker and you now knew nothing better than to succumb to your baser instincts.

‘I am up for it. Yes, for sure.’

You looked at Kyo, who was staring at you in shock.

‘Baby, you will have fun. You will see. Besides, it would be rude to disappoint our gracious hosts.’ You smiled innocently at him, while your thoughts were anything but.

Tengen stretched out his arm to you and spoke

‘Come here then.’

When you walked up to him, he stood up and said to his wives:

‘Ok, you three have fun with the boys, I want this one to myself first’ With that he grabbed you by the hand and started to lead you away to their bedroom.

In the meantime, Sanemi shamelessly waved in Makio and Hinatsuru to come to him and soon enough the trio was getting on with clothes being ripped off and moans starting to fill the space. Kyoujuro was still seated in the same spot, but now with a visible erection growing in his pants. Suma walked over to him and knelt between his legs.

‘Do not be shy. I will help you relax’ she giggled massaging his clothed dick and making him moan quietly.

You were now being led through the spacious house to Tengen’s bedroom. His large hand holding yours softly and a sweet smile graced his handsome face. Your anticipation was growing with every step, your pussy slowly tightening and wetness forming between your legs. You always admired Tengen’s looks and physique, but honestly always dismissed any dirtier thoughts from lingering for longer than a flash of a second. But now, you were granted the possibility to finally explore and revisit all that you always pushed aside. At last, you reached the bedroom. It was big by normal standards, but not as large as you would imagine, most of it taken up by a huge bed. There were multiple doors leading to what you could make out as two ensuite bathrooms and nothing less but four separate walk-in closets. Walls were adorned with artwork and there was a large tv on the opposite wall. The room smelled of jasmine and other floral notes you did not quite recognise.

Tengen was standing behind you with his hands placed on your shoulders. He pressed himself tightly into your back and leaned down to kiss your neck. His large, muscular body was cradling you perfectly and he had to lean down far to reach your neck due to the considerable size difference between the two of you. You could feel his hard dick pressing into your waist and you started grinding yourself back on him. It felt huge, the hardness against your soft backside making you want to rip his clothes off and fuck him straight away.

His hands were now moving down your neck to your breasts. The feel of his large, warm hands on your exposed neckline was making you so freaking hot. Soon enough he was massaging your breasts with both hands, not being fully satisfied with touching you through your clothes, he reached down into your lowcut top and into your bra, playing gently with your nipples. You were eliciting some very lascivious moans as he took out your boobs from the bra and out of your top. He was tracing your neck and sides of your cheeks with his lips all the while you were bucking your back into his hard-on. He started to remove your top, with skillful hands unclipped your bra and tossed it to the side, and finally slid down your skirt and panties. All you were left wearing were your lace top stay-ups and high-heeled stiletto shoes.

Slowly, he started pushing you lightly, making you move toward the bed. He pushed far enough that you were now leaning over the edge of it supported by your stretched-out arms. He spread your legs wide and went down on his knees behind you spreading your ass cheeks and licking up a quick line along your wet folds. He kept on licking you between your legs with the flat of his tongue, but he needed better access to work more meticulously.

So now, he gently helped you switch positions and you were soon lying flat on your back with legs spread wide for him. He removed his shirt and you gasped at the sight of his naked torso. He grinned widely

‘You like what you see?’

He was very aware of what his looks did to women and found it amusing at times, but without being cocky about it. His fingers were spreading your labia and he focused on rubbing on one side while licking your clit area with slow and light movements of his wet muscle. A finger was drawing circles around the opening of your cunt with him increasing the pressure on the inside of your labia. You were experiencing so much pleasure now, all you could do was close your eyes and moan like a whore.

He kept his movements on you steady and firm, not moving from any spot until your moans were not as loud anymore, skillfully seeking out the next more sensitive spot by listening to your vocal response and the movement of your hips. He was essentially doing what you used to when you masturbated. His pussy eating skills were unmatched. As he felt your arousal intensify, your pussy clenching and spasming more and more he was now narrowing down his movements closer and closer to your clitoris, slowly sending you into overdrive. He was not cruel, however, and feeling you were about to edge, he now applied extra pressure on your clit and worked until you could no longer control yourself, the sensation of needing to pee quickly turning into an avalanche of ecstasy. You squirted all over him and kept on moaning even as you were descending from your high.

He climbed onto the bed next to you and started kissing you, making you taste your own juices.

‘You taste so good, y/n, I cannot get enough of you.’

Your hands were already fumbling with his zipper and soon you were sliding his pants and boxers off. When his dick was exposed, you stopped your action and grabbed hold of it, him doing the rest of the undressing. You were completely mesmerised by its size. Sure, Kyo was not small and you had your fair share of cock before him, but this? This was on another level. Tengen was nearly two meters tall and not directly lanky, with a strong muscular build so his size would most likely be reflected in his dick, but this was more than you ever thought was possible. Nine inches maybe? You swallowed and started slowly to lick him up his shaft, making him sigh in pleasure.

You were licking him and stroking with your hands for a while, lapping up the precum that steadily leaked out of his tip. Opening your mouth wide you started to sink yourself over his dick while pumping the rest of the huge shaft with one hand. He was rubbing you between your folds again, creating new wetness that was now running down your thighs. Come over here ‘he whispered and guided you to sit down on his face.’ You were in a full sixty-nine now. One of your favourite positions.

With a firm grip on your hips, he pulled you down so that you were fully seated on his mouth and started snaking his tongue into you. At the same time, you were now enthusiastically sucking him off, your cheeks hollowing and small gagging sounds coming out of your mouth every time you sank down on his length. He was gentle with your blow job, not bucking his hips nor pushing down your head. He was aware of his size and had enough control and experience to immerse himself in you doing the work for him instead.

His tongue was working relentlessly on your clit, with you bucking your hips back and forth to create more friction. You were edging now, but too focused on giving him pleasure to have your own release again. He must have felt you clench and get wetter as that went straight to his dick, you feeling it twitch, stiffen and a few more sucks later he came into your mouth, filling you up. You swallowed eagerly, the pleasant salty taste of him tantalising your senses. While you were licking him dry, he intensified his pressure on your crotch and you came again. Not a huge orgasm this time, but good enough to make you scream out briefly.

Now you lay next to each other, enjoying the lingering sensation of contentment and the warmth of still pulsing, blood-filled and swollen genitals. His hand was tracing lightly on your folds, smearing all the cum that leaked out of you.

You were now curious about what was going on in the living room… You lifted your head up a little and was listening to the distant sounds of pleasure. Tengen smirked and picked up a remote control. After a moment of fumbling the tv turned on and what came up on the screen was a bird’s eye view of Tengen’s living room.

‘You have cameras in there??’ you asked.

‘Yes, they are security cameras, but I just realised they could come to good use’ he said with a broad grin.

What was happening on the screen was a full-blown orgy.

Sanemi had Makio and Hinatsuru working on his cock, with Hinatsuru sucking his balls and Makio bobbing her head up and down with Sanemi pressing her head down in an unkind manner. His head was thrown back on the headrest and his teeth were gritted in pleasure.

All the while Kyoujuro was frenetically thrusting his hips and cock into Sumas backside who was moaning loud enough to wake up the neighbourhood.

You were staring at the screen with your pussy gradually getting wetter (if that was even possible from how soaked you already were). You were interrupted by Tengen, who was positioned between your legs with the large cock erect once again. Your look must have unveiled your worries as he said in a soft voice

‘It will fit. I promise. You are so wet anyway’. He smiled.

With that, he parted your pussy with his fingers and positioned his tip at the opening, pushing in slowly. The feeling of a cock this size filling you up was making you absolutely wild with arousal. You were moaning for every inch he was gaining on you. His actions were pure perfection, he really had an intimate knowledge of the female body. He could not bottom out yet, his cock simply too huge and your pussy clenching ferociously. But that did not bother him much. You would eventually open more.

He now started gently pumping his dick into you while watching the footage from the living room. He tilted your chin and turned your head toward him and with a delicate stroke to your cheek, he said in a soft but slightly condescending tone.

‘Do you like what you see?’ It was almost a whisper. ‘You are a very dirty girl, aren’t you?’

‘How about we give my girls a break and I call the boys in here for you? I think you might enjoy that…. I do not think you are satiated yet; I can see it in your eyes.’

You swallowed. You knew so well what he had in mind and the thought of all three males giving you this kind of attention made your body basically limp with arousal.

You kept on watching until everyone in the living room climaxed. Tengen pulled out of you, got up and disappeared into the living room. When he appeared on the screen you could hear him tell his wives to relax and put champagne on cooling. He needed the three men in the bedroom with you and him and you all would be a while, but you all would join the ladies in the hot tub for a relaxing soak and champagne afterward. The girls giggled and walked out of the living room.

The screen went empty and a moment later the three men appeared in the bedroom. Kyo with a heavy blush covering his face, the confident Sanemi with a smug smirk and finally Tengen with a peaceful expression in his smiling pink eyes.

‘Well, well, well. Aren’t you a horny one. Sure you wanna take all three of us at once?’

Sanemi blurted out in his usual cocky manner.

‘Did you know she was like this?’ he asked turning to Kyoujuro.

Kyoujuro’s normally gentle eyes started to narrow and you could see he was on the verge of saying something he would regret. Luckily, the tactically minded Tengen, being the older one here, took reign of the situation and said

‘Hey guys, let’s not bicker, we are all consenting adults here. I think we should get to it before your nagging puts y/n off’

he looked at you and when he was sure they could not see his eyes, he rolled his eyes in a conspiratory gesture toward you, something that made you smile through pressed lips and nod your head to him lightly. You were getting very used to his charming demeanour.

‘Ok, ok. We can get started. Btw, are you ok with taking it up your ass y/n? No offence, but there are three of us here’

Sanemi noted, but got quickly interrupted by Tengen

‘Nemi, seriously, It is up to y/n, however, she has not prepped herself. So no, I can answer on her behalf that that is off-limits tonight. Y/n, do you agree?’

‘Yes, totally.’

Sanemi sighed deeply, almost as if in disappointment. So, he was into anal, hey? You learned something new tonight.

Sanemi was the first to walk up to you, his erect heavy cock bobbing with every step. He knelt down beside you and started massaging your breasts and enclosed his lips on one of your nipples. You started moaning, his massage of your boobs getting more intense and his tongue flicking your nipple faster now.

‘You know, I might just fuck your tits then, since you won’t put up back there’ he said with a grin.

With that, he straddled your torso and positioned his hard dick between your breasts.

‘Now, sweetheart, squeeze them together for me so I can fuck them’

You did as he asked and soon his dick was sliding back and forth between your tits, his leaking tip coming close to your chin with every move forward. In the meantime, you could feel a large finger spread your labia again, Tengen was getting ready to fuck your pussy. You were so wet now, that he did not need any more prep, but instead, you started to feel that enormous dick of his being slowly pushed into you again. He felt so fucking good and his movements were just perfect. You completely understood how the guy could satisfy three women. Kyoujuro was the last to join, standing next to your face, the blonde was pumping his thick cock next to your mouth, and looking at you with those hungry amber eyes you were so used to. You opened your mouth eagerly and he slowly pressed himself past your lips, your tongue snaking on the incoming length. His hand stroking your hair gently.

‘Fuck, Kyo, she is such a slut, taking us so good. I could though sense her being on the wild side the first time we met, she was too hot to be tame’

Sanemi spoke through gritted teeth, his little dirty monologue stopped by Tengen who flicked his finger at the back of Sanemi’s head.

‘Shut it, Nemi. Just enjoy yourself, will you? But, hey Kyo. Y/n is lovely and if she does not mind, I would love to have an encore of our evening’

He spoke with quite a strained voice now, being engulfed in his own pleasure. Right now, it was only Tengen and Sanemi who were making you weak with pleasure, Tengen’s cock hitting all the right spots with every slow thrust and Sanemi pinching and rolling your nipples with his calloused fingers. You were eliciting muffled moans onto Kyoujuro’s cock, but to be honest, you were not sucking him with much enthusiasm, being so engulfed in what the two white-haired hotties were doing to you.

Suddenly, Kyoujuro grabbed you by the hair and yanked your head backward. The look in his eyes was wild and fierce and he hissed through his teeth:

‘You are neglecting your wifely duties, my dear. I think I must show you how to behave properly.’

With that, he shoved his full length into your mouth making you gag. This really took you by surprise, almost so you did not recognise your so otherwise playful and gentle lover. You looked at him pleadingly, but he did not seem to care, continuing to thrust into you while holding your hair tight. You were completely at the three men’s mercy, taking whatever they were giving to you, and thanks to Tengen you were receiving a lot. The pressure in your belly was increasing and you were now edging. You tapped Sanemi on the arm

‘squeeze the other nipple too, please Nemi’

He smirked and granted your wish. The action of his rough hands on your hard buds was what was needed to push you over the edge and you climaxed, your scream only muffled by Kyojuro’s cock inside your mouth. The spasming of your pussy was now too much for Tengen as well, and soon enough your clenching muscles milked him hard and you felt the warmth of his cum inside you. When he pulled out, you felt so empty, you pulled away from Kyojuro’s cock and tried to look around Sanemi to send your plea to Tengen, but right then it was Sanemi’s turn to orgasm and you were met with thick ropes of semen spraying your face and landing in your open mouth.

Kyojuro was now really annoyed, once again having your attention stolen like this. He shifted his position so that he was facing you just behind the top of your head where you were lying down and then hovered himself over you, with his hips over your face and his face toward your belly. His heavy dick now hanging down in your face, he tilted your head slightly backward and pushed himself in your mouth with the intention to mouth fuck you properly. He was fast and rough, almost choking you. His grunts were hoarse and deep. This was not the most comfortable fucking you experienced, to be honest, and you were surprised by his sudden roughness.

Luckily for you, Tengen dove between your legs and started teasing your now overstimulated clit. His licks and massage were just as good as the first time he made you come. You were slowly adjusting to Kyojuro’s actions and focused solely on enjoying what Tengen was doing to you, him now flicking your clit faster and faster until you dissolved in another orgasm, squirting all over his handsome face. He smiled and lapped up as much as he could of your juices. The sight of all this must have finally been too much for Kyo, who now actioned a sloppy thrust and emptied his balls deep into your throat.

His load must have been huge as when he pulled out a fair bit leaked out onto your cheek. You were too fucked out to even notice that your face and neck were literally smeared with cum. You just laid there in bliss. Sanemi and Kyoujuro were both also lying on their backs in the large bed, panting. Tengen though was too considerate to leave you hanging. He walked up to you and lifted you up in his arms.

‘You look like you need a shower’ and carried you to the bathroom.

‘Can you stand up?’

Surprisingly, you could.

‘Good. I am glad to see that you can.’

He turned on the shower and when he deemed the temperature to be just right, he led you in there and embraced you, whispering into your ear

‘Just so you know, I really, really want to see more of you like this. I mean it’

You looked into his enchanting eyes and felt like this would be a lovely arrangement.

After you showered you joined the group in the onsen and all of you enjoyed the rest of the night with champagne and conversation flowing freely.

Banners by @adornedwithlight and @cafekitsune

Tagging: @muzansfangs @doumadono @horror4themasses

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isabelckl · 16 days ago

Text

meeting ellie in detention

nerdy ellie williams x popular fem!reader

detention has always been boring—until the last person you expected walks in. now you’re stuck in the same room, and it’s a lot harder to ignore her.

Detention. Again. Second time this month.

You’re slouched low in the hard plastic chair, spine curved in a way that probably screams "I give up," the edge of the desk digging uncomfortably into your ribs. One leg bounces under the table, the sole of your shoe scuffing softly against the floor with every twitch. The room smells faintly like Expo markers and teenage boredom, warm dust floating in streaks of light pouring through slatted blinds. The air conditioner hums in the ceiling like it’s trying too hard and still failing to cool anything down.

Your head hangs forward, a lazy weight, chin nearly touching your chest as you idly flick at the fake nail on your middle finger — the one that went flying across the cafeteria when you slapped the ever-loving shit out of Victoria during lunch. It clicks against your nailbed with each flick, a tiny, hollow sound that breaks the silence like a metronome for your regret.

You exhale sharply through your nose, lips twitching into a sour twist.

“I should’ve just let that bitch go,” you think to yourself, dragging your head back until it flops against the top of your seat with a dramatic, whispered groan.

The oversized clock on the wall ticks with cruel precision, every second dragging its heels like it's stuck in glue. The teacher — some substitute whose name you didn’t bother to catch — is half-asleep at their desk, hunched over a crossword puzzle or a book with the spine cracked flat. They're not even pretending to watch you. It's one of those afternoons where the heat makes everything slow, where even trouble feels sluggish and tired.

You’re just about to give in to the heaviness tugging at your eyelids, your cheek halfway to the cool surface of the desk, when the door creaks open with an uncertain squeal.

Your eyebrows lift.

Huh?

“You’re here,” you blurt out before you can catch the words, your voice cutting through the haze like a pebble tossed into still water. You sit up straighter, something in you crackling awake with sharp interest.

Ellie Williams steps into the room like she’s not sure if she belongs — the usual quiet type, always either with headphones on, a guitar slung across her back, or buried somewhere in the library behind a stack of sci-fi novels and sketchpads. Her eyes flit up and meet yours for a moment before darting away. Then she scans the room like she’s searching for the least cursed seat available.

“You can sit here,” you offer, nodding at the empty chair beside you. Your voice is casual, but there’s a flicker of curiosity you don’t bother hiding.

“I guess...” she mutters, rubbing the back of her neck with the palm of her hand. She moves like she’s being dragged by invisible strings — hesitant, stiff — and drops into the seat beside you like she’s expecting it to collapse underneath her.

You tilt your head, crossing your arms and letting your eyes roam, not subtle about it. Her flannel sleeves are rolled up, revealing a faint ink smudge near her wrist. There’s a nervous energy buzzing off her in low frequency, barely noticeable unless you’re this close.

“What?” you ask, a spark of challenge in your tone.

Ellie glances at you, brows drawing inward. “What?”

You squint like you’re staring at a half-finished painting, trying to figure out what’s missing. “Nothing. Just… Ellie Williams, in detention, here with me? You’re like the last person I expected to see.”

She stares at you for a second, then looks away, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “I didn’t know you knew my name,” she says, soft and matter-of-fact, like that’s what surprised her the most.

You let out a small, amused laugh. “Of course I know your name. We’re classmates in like… two subjects. You sit three rows over in Calc, always solving problems before the teacher even finishes writing them on the board.”

Ellie shrugs, clearly uncomfortable with the attention, her fingers fidgeting with a loose thread on her jeans. She looks like you’ve just peeled back something she’s spent years sewing shut.

“So what did you do?” you ask, leaning in just slightly, eyes gleaming with interest. “Come on, I need something to keep me entertained.”

She gives you a look, equal parts wary and annoyed. “No.”

“Oh, come on. I just wanna know what got you here. I mean, I’m here because I bitch-slapped Victoria for spreading a fake rumor about me.” You say it like a badge of honor, chin lifted slightly. “Your turn.”

Ellie lets out a breath, glancing down at her hands again. Her nails are short, bitten at the edges. She chuckles quietly, a low, sheepish sound. “It’s lame.”

“Come on,” you nudge her with your elbow, grinning now.

She doesn’t respond, just offers the ghost of a smile and goes back to staring at the graffiti scratched into the desk.

You sigh and flop back into your seat again. “Fine. I get it. First time in detention. Gotta preserve your image.”

She side-eyes you, and this time, there’s a smirk pulling at her mouth like she’s trying to suppress it. “Why would you think I’m the last person you’d see here?” she asks, her voice lower, curious.

You scoff under your breath and rest your arm on the back of her chair like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Because you’re just... good.”

Her brow arches.

“I mean, a great example of a model student,” you continue, motioning vaguely in her direction. “You’re, like, top of our calculus class, probably gonna graduate with honors or whatever. And you draw, right? I saw some of your stuff in art class. The charcoal sketches.”

She stares at you now, like she’s hearing you through a tunnel. “You knew that?” she says, voice soft with disbelief.

“Yeah.” You roll your eyes a little, but there’s no bite in it. “I pay attention.”

Ellie smiles — not fully, just a quiet, private curve of her lips — and bites the inside of her cheek like she’s trying to hide it.

“No talking,” the teacher calls out without lifting their eyes.

You roll your eyes again and settle into silence, the kind that’s thick but not uncomfortable. The ticking clock sounds louder now, each second ricocheting off the pale classroom walls. Somewhere outside, a locker slams shut, followed by faint, echoing laughter. But your focus is stuck on the girl next to you — the way her fingers drum softly against the desk, the quiet way she breathes, how her knee is still barely an inch from yours.

You rest your chin in your hand, elbow propped on the desk, still watching her. Ellie stares straight ahead like she’s forcing herself not to glance your way. Like she can feel you looking and isn’t sure what to do about it.

“So...” you murmur, voice low and casual, “are you doing anything later?”

Ellie turns her head a fraction. “Uh, nothing... I think. Why?”

“Wanna go to a party with me? Just a house thing at Kendra’s.”

She blinks, clearly caught off guard, and gives you a look like you just asked her to go skydiving. “Why would I go to a party with you?”

You shrug, leaning back. “Nothing serious. Just wondered. Have you ever been to one?”

“Well... yeah. But not the kind of party you’re talking about.”

You squint, amused now. “And what kind is that?”

She shrugs, but there’s a glint in her eyes. “The ‘your kind’ kind. You know... boys and stuff.”

You snort. “Boys and stuff? Seriously?”

Ellie shrugs again, her smirk widening just enough to make your stomach flip.

“No one’s gonna make you do anything, y’know,” you add, raising an eyebrow at her, voice softer now, like an unspoken promise.

She hesitates, her eyes flicking to yours, then down to her lap. The pause stretches — not uncomfortable, just thoughtful — and then she nods slowly.

“I guess so. I could come.”

“Great. It'll be fun,” you say, a grin tugging at your lips as you lean back, arms crossing. There’s a fizz of electricity in your chest now, subtle but undeniable.

There’s a pause again — not awkward, just… still. The kind that stretches long enough for you to start wondering what’s going on in her head. You glance over, your voice a little softer now, curious instead of teasing.

“So... do you, like, have a boyfriend? Or girlfriend?”

Ellie lets out a low laugh — short and breathy, like you caught her off guard. “Nah. Why?”

You lean your shoulder against the back of your chair, studying her expression as if it might give something away. “What’s your type, then?” you ask, tossing it out like it’s no big deal, like it’s just a casual, meaningless question — even though it kind of isn’t.

She glances at you sideways, her brow arching. “Why are you asking me that?”

You smirk, shrugging lazily. “So I can set you up with someone later. Maybe.”

Ellie scoffs, rolling her eyes — but there’s no real bite to it. “Didn’t you just say no one’s gonna make me do anything? And now you’re trying to play matchmaker?”

“I just wanna try,” you say, nudging her foot lightly under the desk. “C’mon, it'd be cute.”

She shakes her head slowly, but there’s a smile creeping onto her lips — small, like she’s trying to hold it back but failing. For a moment, she doesn’t say anything. Then, quieter this time, eyes fixed on the grain of the wooden desk, she says, “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

You nod, and it’s not teasing now — there’s something softer in the way you do it, something that says you’re listening. That maybe you understand more than you’re letting on.

She glances up, eyes flicking toward you, just a little narrower now. Like she’s testing the waters. “How about you? Nathan?”

You blink, caught off guard, then immediately grimace. “Nathan? Nathan fucking Walsh? No way. Do people seriously think we hooked up?”

Ellie doesn’t answer — just lifts her eyebrows like, You tell me.

You groan, scrubbing a hand over your face. “Ugh, that’s a no. Like, a no-in-hell situation. I’d rather set myself on fire.”

Ellie actually laughs — a real one this time. It spills out of her unfiltered, her head tilting back just slightly. It’s soft, a little scratchy, and it warms something in your chest.

You can’t help but grin, cheeks already aching. “So… you’re coming with me later?”

She looks at you, really looks this time — like she’s trying to figure out what the hell she just got herself into. Her eyes flick between yours and the floor before she finally nods once.

“Yeah. Okay.”

The music is already pulsing through the house by the time you catch sight of her. It spills out the front door in a steady, throbbing rhythm, matched only by the flicker of string lights and silhouettes moving behind fogged-up windows. Ellie steps in with a slight hesitation, like the air is thicker here — like she’s walking into somewhere she’s not sure she belongs, but she's here anyway. A red solo cup is cradled loosely in her hand. Her shoulders are squared, jaw set, but her eyes move like she’s absorbing everything, scanning for a place to land.

Then they find you.

You spot her from across the room and light up, warmth blooming across your face, already flushed from the shots you took earlier. You break away from your group mid-sentence, weaving through a haze of cologne, sweat, and perfume until you reach her. Your grin is crooked, wide. “Heyyy,” you say, dragging the word out with a giddy lilt as you throw your arms around her.

Your balance tips a little on your heels — you’re slightly tipsy, full of heat and laughter — and Ellie catches you with a hand at your waist. Her grip is hesitant but steady. You’re aware of how solid she feels, how warm, how she doesn’t pull away even though she totally could.

“You really came,” you say against her ear, breath brushing the shell of it.

“I said I would,” she replies, voice quiet, like the volume of the house makes her want to retreat into herself. She looks down at you, eyes soft. The button-up she’s wearing is wrinkled at the edges, sleeves rolled to her elbows, and she smells faintly like clean laundry — sharp and comforting — mixed with the burn of something stronger. Whiskey, maybe.

You take her cup without asking, taking a sip and wrinkling your nose playfully before handing it back. “You’re late,” you say, tugging her by the wrist, your fingers lacing lightly around hers as you pull her toward the kitchen.

Ellie doesn’t resist. She follows you into the warmth and chaos of the party, and you hand her a shot before raising your own. She downs it without a grimace — like it’s nothing — then does the second one just the same.

You blink, impressed. “I thought you were all straight-edge,” you tease, nudging her elbow with yours.

She shrugs, lips curling at the edge. “Never said that.”

You laugh, leaning a little too close as your balance shifts again. “You’re full of surprises, Ellie Williams.”

The two of you end up at the edge of the kitchen, leaning against the counter while people move around you in waves. The music swells and falls, conversations weaving together in fragments. You’re mostly talking — telling stories, rambling through your buzz — while Ellie listens, her body angled just enough toward you to show she’s paying attention. Her green eyes flick over your face like she’s memorizing something, and every now and then, her lips twitch like she’s holding back a smile.

Your fingers brush her forearm more than once. She doesn’t pull away.

At some point — you’re not sure when — someone drags you onto the dance floor. It’s hot and crowded, all limbs and flickering light, and you don’t remember if it was your idea or hers, but suddenly you’re dancing. Ellie’s hand is at your waist, grounding you in the motion, keeping you upright as you spin and stumble and laugh into her shoulder.

“Okay, okay, I’m done, I’m too drunk,” you wheeze out, laughter bubbling up. Your feet trip over each other, and you lean heavily into her as she catches you, both hands sliding to your hips, steady and firm.

You look up, breath warm against her neck, your heart hammering somewhere near your throat. Your cheeks are flushed — from the alcohol, the heat, her. “What if,” you say slowly, words slurring just a little, “what if the person I wanted to set you up with… is me?”

Ellie goes still.

She’s staring at you, eyes wide, mouth parted like she wasn’t expecting that. Her breath catches — just barely — but she doesn’t pull away. She doesn’t laugh it off or deflect. Instead, she leans in close, her lips brushing your ear.

“Let’s get out of here,” she murmurs.

You nod, barely thinking.

Everything becomes a blur of color and heat and motion. Upstairs, the bass from the music fades into a dull thump beneath your feet. You barely make it through the threshold of some stranger’s bedroom before Ellie’s lips are on yours, and your back hits the wall with a soft thud. Her hands are everywhere — in your hair, along your jaw, gripping your thighs as she lifts you up slightly, your legs tightening instinctively around her waist.

You’re breathless. Dizzy. Drunk off her mouth, her warmth, the way she kisses like she’s wanted to for a while and finally stopped holding back. Your hands are under her shirt, fingers skimming hot skin, tugging her closer, closer, until there’s nothing between you but heat and want and the sound of your own gasping breaths.

It’s messy. A little desperate. But god — you've never wanted anything more.

#ellie williams fanfiction #ellie x y/n #ellie x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x reader #ellie fanfic #ellie tlou #ellie the last of us #nerd ellie #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams #ellie williams x fem reader #ellie williams x female reader #the last of us #isabelckl #ellie oneshot

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kxsagi · 2 months ago

Note

Hewoo againn (*￣∇￣)ノ

I see that your requests are open today, although I don't know if you'll be able to answer if it's already bombarded (oof)

Butt... Hear me out: Reader trying out new lipstick shades and using their bllk boyfriend's face/skin 👀 as a canvas cause y'know, they wanna see what color looks great against their skin 🤭

Kindly requesting the itoshi brothers, shidou, kaiser, ness kunigami, karasu, gagamaru, and barou (as well as any other boys you'd wanna add <3)

Also, I was the one that sent the request for mmafighter!reader x bllk boys and I loved it! Your writing honestly makes my day and mwah! ( ^-^)ノ∠※。.:*:・'°☆💋

I suppose imma just refer to myself as your anonymous 💜 requester (?) (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

“𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐡 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬”

a/n: literally just saved a cute pinterest pin of this (it was a sign)

also thank you so so so much! i ADORE your ideas, the mma fighter! reader was so much fun to write mwah mwah mwah 😚💋

also #2: if anyone has lip gloss recs or lip combo recs, PLEASE GIVE IT TO ME

ft. itoshi rin, itoshi sae, shidou ryusei, kaiser michael, ness alexis, kunigami rensuke, karasu tabito, gagamaru gin, barou shoei, isagi yoichi, nagi seishiro

itoshi rin

“why don’t you use your own arm?”

“because you’re my favorite canvas,” you reply sweetly, already uncapping the first lipstick.

sits like he’s being punished, arms crossed, refusing to meet your eyes as you start swatching a peachy nude on his cheekbone.

“stop smiling at me like that.”

“like what?” you grin, swatching a bright coral on his jaw next.

turns redder than the lipstick.

eventually sighs and mutters, “just finish your weird little art project.”

doesn't say a word when you give him a kiss on the nose with hot pink.

hours later, you find a selfie on his phone titled: coral test results - looks better on her 🫤.

itoshi sae

“princesa, that looks expensive. should you be testing it on a civilian?” says that while laying back on the couch like he’s on a spa retreat.

you straddle his lap with a whole row of lipstick tubes in hand like a scientist in her lab.

“seriously, i’m not sure your skin’s the right tone to match mine –”

“oh? and what tone is mine?” he teases. “hot? hotter?”

lets you swatch shades on his chest, his collarbones, even his lips, but insists on giving feedback like a beauty guru: “this one’s too tragic. this one screams tax season. this one? this one’s me in lipstick form.”

you: “you’re so full of it.”

him, with three lip marks on his abs: “full of style.”

shidou ryusei

“ohh, are we playing makeup? finally.”

no. he does not follow instructions.

you’re trying to test out neutral tones and he’s over here demanding you use “something demonic.”

“make it black. wait. black with glitter. give me devil lips.”

keeps sticking his tongue out so you accidentally swipe it.

“oops ~ guess you gotta kiss it better.”

ends up with full lips, two-tone cheeks, glitter on his neck, and not one regret.

takes mirror selfies while you’re still testing. sends them to his group chat. caption: my girl turned me into a fineass crayon box.

doesn’t wipe anything off. goes out to the store like that.

kaiser michael

you don’t even finish asking. “can i –”

“yes. of course. i have excellent bone structure for makeup swatches.”

poses like it’s vogue. tilts his face. offers his abs.

“this is the most efficient way to test high-pigment color on perfect skin.”

you: “whose perfect skin?”

“mine, schatz.”

makes dramatic gasps for every new shade like, “this one is bold, it screams money,” and “this shade is called kaiser’s girlfriend’s privilege.”

you try to do a neat row of swatches, but he keeps flexing and distracting you.

ends up looking like a lipstick picasso. loves it.

ness alexis

so cooperative it’s suspicious.

sits on the floor cross-legged while you perch above him on the couch like royalty.

“mmm, maybe the berry tone next? or the cinnamon glaze one?”

keeps his eyes wide and still while you apply it, like he’s in a professional makeup studio.

rates each one like a food critic: “this one feels luxurious. this one? cozy date night in fall.”

gently reminds you to blot if you forget. offers his arm for leftover swatches.

tells you which one makes your skin glow the most.

you end up cuddling with his neck covered in different kiss marks. he’s still smiling like it’s the best day of his life.

kunigami rensuke

“uh, are you sure this is okay?”

he looks so concerned, poor guy.

“yes,” you say, already smearing a nude tone along his jawline.

he sits like he’s at the dentist – rigid, confused, but obedient.

“don’t you have, like, swatch paper or something?”

“shhh. your face is way cuter.”

blushes so hard he starts sweating.

you kiss his forehead with a deep red and say, “final test.”

he almost passes out.

refuses to wipe it off and goes to the gym with a lipstick heart on his bicep like a love badge.

karasu tabito

“oh hell yeah. paint me like one of your fancy girls.”

reclines back dramatically with a throw pillow under his head.

lets you draw full swatches, then starts naming them stupid things: “this is ‘sexy betrayal.’ this one’s ‘tax evasion.’ this one? ‘midnight scandal’.”

you: “karasu, these are just pinks.”

him: “emotional pinks.”

halfway through he tries to kiss you with four different colors still on him. now you look like a disaster.

both of you look insane. both of you are in love.

gagamaru gin

doesn’t move a muscle. sits like a very obedient golden retriever.

“just tell me where.”

offers you his neck, shoulders, collarbone, whatever you need.

every time you say “wow, that shade pops,” he perks up like a puppy being praised.

tries to help by flexing when you do chest swatches. accidentally makes the lipstick smear.

“sorry.”

you giggle and kiss his nose. he doesn’t wipe it off for hours.

barou shoei

“you’re not touching me with that garbage.”

okay so you have to coax him into it.

eventually caves but makes you promise “nothing fruity.”

you swatch ONE dusty rose on his cheek and he’s like “too fruity. wipe it off.”

ends up letting you do a whole gradient on his arm instead.

glares at it the whole time like it offended his bloodline.

secretly keeps your kiss mark on his jaw and glares at anyone who looks at it too long.

isagi yoichi

“uhhh i’ve never been used as a color test before, but sure???”

kind of nervous but excited to help.

watches every swatch you put on him like it’s a math equation.

“this one’s warmer… oh, but that one’s more vibrant. maybe good for nighttime lighting?”

sweetly says “do the thing” and puckers up so you can test one directly with a kiss.

giggles when you say he looks like a valentine card.

takes a picture of your arm next to his cheek to compare tones. “science!”

keeps the one he likes best on until bedtime.

nagi seishiro

“ugh, do i have to move?”

lays there like a cat being groomed.

opens one eye to say “do the purple one” then goes back to half-napping.

doesn’t react to any of the swatches except to occasionally go “eh. that’s fine.”

you kiss his collarbone with a bold crimson and he finally reacts: “that one. wear that one forever.”

goes back to sleep with ten swatches and glitter on his chin.

you leave a sticky note on his forehead: best canvas award goes to you.

721 notes · View notes

caramelkoo · 9 months ago

Text

honeysuckle

boyfriend!jungkook, established relationship, smut

summary : according to your boyfriend, a little competition won't hurt anyone especially when the game is his favorite. Making you feel good.

warnings : mature, strong language, heavy on the smut, a little fluff thrown in there, fingering, pussy slapping, he asks for consent, they're freaky, dick piercing, ass slapping, hickeys, sex in a jacuzzi, reverse cowgirl, riding, jungkook wants oc so bad, dirty talk, he calls oc sweetheart, unprotected sex. if i missed something, do let me know.

a/n : hi my loves, here’s your promised smutty treat. tbvh that picture has not left my mind ever since i saw it lmao. I love you guys so so much. You're so loved and cherished. Please don't read this in front of your parents. also @rpwprpwprpwprw was the sweetest to ask for a tag <33 xoxo

"Oh yeah baby, just like that"

"You fuck me so good"

'Take my cock like a good slut you are"

Any other day, you're all about sex positivity and letting your body get what it wants but today of all days, your neighbors want to ruin the peace that you so desperately craved.

Your boyfriend, Jungkook had left early for a business meeting promising you to come back as soon as he gets done with it. As much as you missed him, you had felt the need to have some time for yourself. You thrive on being Jungkook's girlfriend, it's all butterfly in the stomach, princess treatment kind of love but you can't lie about wishing for some alone time just for yourself. Finally, you were getting it. You had it all planned bit by bit.

Step 1 : take an everything shower

Step 2 : cook something delicious for yourself while wave to earth plays in the background

Step 3 : read a romantasy novel you've been anticipating for a long time.

Step 4 : if sleepy, sleep. If not, take out your pink best friend from the bedside drawer and seek your pleasure listening to Jungkook's voice recording you had him record the other day. It always works.

Step 3 and you're already at the verge of giving up. It appears the people next door didn't exactly like your plan and they wanted to make you realize how lonely you are. Screaming at your face, "Haha guess who's not getting a dick". God forbid if a girl wants to have quite and peaceful night while romanticizing the shit out of it.

You slam the book on the bed and sigh. For a second you consider calling Jungkook but stop when you realize that you'll only be hindering his work. What are you even going to tell him? that you can't read because your neighbors have been fucking each other for hours now? No, that's just stupid.

Taking off your reading glasses you make your way to the kitchen. If you can't get sleep tonight, you might as well give them a tough fight. When and if they decide to let their horny asses take a break and decide to doze off, they'd catch on to the fact that there's someone next door whose mama didn't raise a quitter. Immature? you don't think so.

Once the woman's voice on the speaker alerts you that your phone has been connected, you start off with your favorite go to song when you need to cry your eyes out. "Fuck to an emotional song now" you think.

Coming in terms with the fact that you might have to pull an all nighter, you begin making coffee. The word itself brings a smile on your face. Coffee, which got you through your med school. Coffee, which got you Jungkook.

If you really think about it, hadn't you mustered up the courage to go on a solo date that day and have a coffee all by yourself you wouldn't have crossed your paths with him. It's funny actually because how many couples do actually last this long after meeting at a random coffee shop?

After dating douchebags for almost three years you had taken a break from dating all together. It was high time you focused on yourself. Honestly, it's not like they were the only one who was messed up in your previous relationships. You had some parts you had to heal as well and the moment you caught up on that, you went on a journey. Journey to self love, journey to find yourself and a journey which will leave you not perfect but healed.

As for the dimwits you dated in the past, sometimes it was "why do you always have to be like this? how much more space do you need?" or, "What do you mean you don't want to have sex right now? C'mon don't be a spoilsport".

Spoilsport, your ass.

Standing up on your tippy toes, your hands reach out for the coffee container but before you could even settle your foot down on the floor, two arms circle around your waist making you gasp in utter shock.

The need to defend yourself takes so strongly over you that you don't even turn around in order to check the person before your elbow connects with their nose.

When you finally do, you can't stop the scream from leaving your mouth. Your face all red and your eyes as big as saucers.

You panic, "JUNGKOOK?"

When you see blood oozing out of his left nostril after he lifts his face, you mentally curse your sister for forcing you to take self defense classes.

"What's with the song, sweetheart?"

"I told you you were gonna be my death someday but who knew it was gonna be tonight"

After cleaning up his nose and giving him a cup of coffee, you both were now sitting on the couch. You had turned off the music, though. God knew it was not making the situation any better.

You take a sip before speaking, "Oh, don't be dramatic. Who comes home like this and at this hour?"

"My flight was late, sweetheart. I wanted to get to you much sooner but destiny had plans--" he gets cut off as his eyebrows crease in wonder.

"What was that?"

"The neighbors. They have been going at it for hours now" you shake your head in disbelief.

"For hours? That's some stamina I must say" he breaks out in a fit of laughter as you place your cup on the table in front of you.

Turning towards him you ask, "You find this funny? I haven't been able to sleep because of them"

Your voice comes out a bit whiny and you wonder if you're acting a bit childish.

"Oh, sweetheart. How about this, I take a quick shower and we cuddle to sleep" a mixture of warmth and concern crossing his face.

Your smile is wide when you say, "I'd love that"

Jungkook finishes his coffee and pecks your lips as he saunters towards the bathroom. However, when he turns back and says the most unforeseen thing, your silly mind doesn't even think twice.

"Actually, _____. Why don't you join me?"

Bubbles form inside the jacuzzi as smoke fills your surroundings. The smell of warm water hits your nose making it feel tingly. Your stomach is doing summersaults as your boyfriend lets you down inside the water, heart skipping a beat.

Only when Jungkook lets himself sit on the other side of the tub, you can finally take a deep breath. His eyes never leaving yours. When you're with him, there's nothing you care about. Not your horny neighbors, not the world, nothing. It's just him and his presence that lights you up. A smile that could rival the sun.

Him.

Your fingers play with the water as you try to make a conversation. This moment right here, is peak level of intimacy for you. You're both naked, exposed and vulnerable yet you've never felt safer. Not to mention how you feel like a high school girl trying to talk to his crush.

When you were young, the bathroom was the only place you could run and cry in and no one judged you. The four walled room provided more comfort than people in your life. It holds memories but when you moved in with your boyfriend, you left those at your old house. To rot, because what else?

With him, every corner, every space in your house feels pure and blissful. It’s filled with laughter, moans and him.

Jungkook's legs are lightly brushing yours every now and then, the movement sending shivers down your spine. What's happening to you?

"So, how was the business trip?"

"On a scale of one to ten, how funny is it that you wanna talk about business while looking like that and all I wanna do is fuck that sweet mouth of yours because of how much I missed it?"

You shudder, the effect he has on you is beyond belief and now with the expression crossing his face, pure lust and longing, it's as though somebody has set your whole body on fire. A mix of hot and cold feeling running through your veins.

"Jungkook"

"Come here"

"Wh-"

He cuts you off, "Come here, sweetheart. Come to me before I lose my ever loving mind'

You don't have an option other than to scoot your way towards him. He positions your body between his legs, his taut and muscular chest touching your wet back.

Wetness pools between your legs as his hardness presses at your lower hip just above your ass. Your pussy throbs with need and you stop yourself from reaching down to relieve that tension.

His fingers ever so lightly graze over your arm, frequently making drawings on it.

"How long did you say they were going at it?"

You look at him, "About three hours. Why?"

He's up to something. You can feel it in your bones.

"Do you think they're still gonna be able to fuck each other after hearing your screams through the wall, sweetheart?"

Fuck. The idea of making them listen to you while your boyfriend fucks you into oblivion doesn't sound so bad. You missed him, you missed being in his arms and you missed him being inside you as well. So, where's the harm in that?

"You wanna give them a show? Let them know how well your man fucks you?"

The moan that leaves her as she lets her head fall back heavy on his chest tells him everything her words can't.

"Jungkook, please. It's been so long" she cries out.

She stirs making herself more comfortable but that just makes him hiss through his teeth as her ass grazes his cock, the metal on the tip leaving a cool sensation. He's not gonna give in easily though. He will make her earn that release.

His hands cup her tits, fully covering them and they fit so perfectly in his hands. Heavy, full, perfect. As if they're made just for him to suck, him to cup, him to cum on, him to leave purple love bites on.

"I know, sweetheart. Do you wanna know what I kept thinking about while I was away?" his voice trails off, "I kept thinking about how bad I wanna fuck your throat"

The sound that leaves her is filled with need.

"Jungkook, baby please."

He trails his hands down her chest and stomach before it reaches her pussy. Just around her clit. His finger are soft and light, not putting pressure when all she wants is for him to give her the release she so badly craves.

Jungkook's cock is already leaking with precum and his balls ache. He missed his girl so fucking much, so much that he lost count of how many times he had fucked his hand while thinking of her while he was away. When his colleagues saw his flushed face, he had no other option than to blame it on the cold weather.

His finger slide down and back up her slit, making her visibly shiver.

Shit. He's not gonna last long if she keeps making those noises.

"How many finger do you want, _____?" he asks as repeats the same motion.

His mouth comes on her in a searing kiss, it's possessive, passionate, burning and everything nasty. He's straight up claiming her mouth as her tongue tangles with his own.

Pulling back he waits for her response, "Two. Please"

Following her command, his two fingers slide inside her. He tightens the hold on her stomach to have her stay in place when she bucks her hips forward.

She screams.

"That's my girl"

He slides his finger out before sinking it deep inside her cunt again. Crooking them in such a way that he hits her g-spot. Desperate moans fill the room mixing with the steam coming out of the hot water. Her hands ghost over his, fastening his pace.

"You want it faster, sweetheart?"

"Yes, much faster. I wanna cum so bad"

Happy to give her what she wants, he begins rubbing at her clit while his other fingers work their way in and out her wet cunt.

"Oh my fucking god"

"That's right. Get what you want. Such a good girl for me"

He's an animal at this point as he tries to mark her his more than she already is. Jungkook has always been open about sex with his girlfriend, his needs, his wants, his desires and she'd done the same. You compliment each other perfectly. It's easier that way, not leaving any room for doubts.

She like dirty talk, he gives it to her.

When her hips lift forward matching his thrusts, he smirks. Biting her slender neck as she chases her orgasm.

"Aghh"

It finally happens, her hands grasp his even more tightly, other hand gripping the edge of the jacuzzi as she lets out a scream. Her breath fastens as sweat beads her forehead, Jungkook never stopping with his praises.

When she settles back down between his legs, he takes his finger out and sucks them clean. Brown eyes never leaving hers.

"Do you think they heard us, sweetheart?"

Her laughter brings smile to his face, "You're crazy"

"And you're mine" He pecks her cheek, letting his lips linger there for a bit. Basking in the feeling of her love's skin against his lips.

At the beginning of your relationship when you were just getting comfortable with intimacy, jungkook loved kissing her cheek. It was his way of showing her that she's adored by him. Then he realised that quite frankly, it's her. He likes kissing so much because it's her that he's kissing.

He holds her for a while before speaking up, "You wanna help me with a problem?"

He doesn't need to tell her twice but soon as her next words leave her mouth, he takes a double take.

"Sit on the edge and I'll suck you off" he hears her say as she kneels before him.

"Later" he grabs her by her shoulders as he positions her back between his legs. This time facing him.

Her legs wrap around his waist and his thick cock presses against her navel. He knows how badly she wanted to take him into her mouth and he could have let her do that only if he was strong enough to resist himself from sinking deep inside her.

"Now, I wanna fuck you. Raw and nice just like my girlfriend deserves" his voice comes out breathy.

"I love you"

"Me too, sweetheart. More than you know" he assures.

Knowing he can't take it anymore, he lifts her up and sits her body down on his cock. Slowly by slowly as she moans her way through it. ____'s head falls into the crook of his neck and his grip tightens on the curve of her waist. The ampallang piercing multiplies the pleasure tenfold as you both roll your eyes at the back of your head.

Jungkook got madly drunk the other day and came back with a dick piercing which resulted in her getting mad at him and him fucking her to show how good it gets with it.

Having said that, he presses a searing kiss on her lips and his breath knocks out of his chest in the process. It's almost like he's dreaming. The feel of her body on him, his cock deep inside ____, her arms caging him. It all feels surreal. At this point, the neighbors are long forgotten. It's you and him now.

He takes one of her sensitive buds in his mouth, flicking it with his tongue. Moving it in circular motions.

The next few seconds involve him spanking her ass as if he wants to leave marks, him guiding her up and down his cock as she bounces and giving her frequent kisses. Wet slapping noises fill the entire room as his balls ache with need.

"So good, baby. You feel so fucking good. Wrapped around me like this while I fuck you good, huh?" he slaps her pussy lightly.

Thrust Thrust Thrust

As she falls back again into his arms, crying loudly with utter pleasure, he tightens his hold on her body. Hugging her close as both of your heartbeats sync together.

"Thank you for letting me love you, sweetheart. Thank you for coming into my boring ass life and filling it with laughter. Fuck"

Your sweaty and now tired bodies are wrapped around each other as you both revel in the warmth of intimacy.

He lets out a grown followed by her whine and before he can say anything, you’re both cumming together, sighing and kissing as you come down your high.

A chaste kiss is pressed on her forehead, "So perfect, my girl"

"That was…" you bite your lip.

"Amazing, I know" he says as he mindlessly plays with her black locks.

his hands rub her back. "Sweetheart, I want one more from you"

"One more?"

"Yeah, this time I wanna see your beautiful back. Will you do it for me?"

He tries to ask her as gently as possible. Pride filling his chest when he sees her nod.

Guiding her up with the support of her knees he sits her down on his lap, his balls brushing against her clit as he sinks back inside her. A man can only take so much before he snaps. This was the moment for him. His girl's back glistens in the most beautiful way ever. Sweat droplets mixed with water dripping down her spine that he can’t help but kiss.

"Fuck baby, you look like a goddess right now." he halts,

"So warm"

Trailing his hands up the back of her neck he threads his fingers through her hair, gripping it lightly but also putting enough pressure just so she can feel a sweet pain.

His heart skips another beat when she starts moving forward and then backwards, teasing him. Her movements are painfully slow. He wants to ask ____ to move faster but at the same time, he also wants to make this special for her.

So, he waits and watches her back arch as he feels like the luckiest man in the world.

"Jungkook" she moans his name, holding on to his thigh as he pounds into her from the back. It’s even deeper now, his cock hitting places he’d never hit before. Jungkook mentally thanks himself for trying out this new position because he’d just about take any chance to feel more connected to ____.

Just when his stomach contracts and hardens, he asks, "____ I’m gonna need you to spread those ass wider. I’m very close"

When she hums in response he gently pushes her upper body so that it’s flat on his legs, immediately letting him see more of ____'s ass. Her asshole clearly visible to him. It’s such a vulnerable position that you’re both in. Her more than him.

He has to ask her, "Sweetheart, if you don’t feel comfortable we can always stop, alright? You just have to ask"

Her whiney voice reaches his ears, "I’m okay, baby. Just- Just fuck me"

So, he does. His hips thrust forward as he fucks her mercilessly, letting her have the pleasure. She moans, he moans, she cries out, he groans. It’s unbelievably perfect. His hands roam over her smooth back, her ass and even down to her pussy. Both bodies working in a graceful sync.

Suddenly, it’s like the earth comes to a stop. His hands grip his hair while the other one grips hers. His stomach hardens, balls tightening and the moment _____ clenches around his cock, he cums inside of her. Filling her up with hot, white liquid. She follows him soon enough.

"I fucking love this body of yours"

She straightens up and lets her wet body fall heavy on his chest seeking warmth and his arms around her. He’s more than happy to do so. His muscular arms bring her closer to his chest as he relaxes.

Before the next words leave his mouth, he has to make sure ____ is sound asleep.

"I can’t wait to ask you to marry me, sweetheart. I can’t wait to see you in that white dress walking towards me like the angel you are"

He hopes she says yes, he hopes the ring brings the biggest smile on her face.

He hopes.

2K notes · View notes

januaryembrs · 10 months ago

Text

MY BABY, HERE ON EARTH | Spencer Reid x Prentiss!Reader [BONUS]

Description: the NINE months of pregnancy

Word count: 10.9k

warnings: pregnancy duh, babies, giving birth, c-section, ummm body fluids? lots of emotions, nausea & sickness, talks of weight gain and stretch marks.

authors note: y'all... there you have it. I will be back to finish their story but until then this is my goodbye piece until I have finished my hiatus to write my own book and start uni (again). I can't wait to take these two (three) on the final lap they deserve but for now.. I hope you enjoy pookies being pookies.

previous chapter | series masterlist |next chapter

MONTH ONE. The one where she finds out.

She hadn’t meant to find out when she did. It had been just a routine implant swap that she’d had twice already in the last six years.

“Any blood clotting, any pain at all?” The nurse asked, jotting down a few notes on her form as she sat back on the bed and waiting for the numbing cream to take hold.

She shook her head. “It’s weird as hell to feel and when I think about it too long it freaks me out, but no, no pain,” She said and the nurse chuckled, nudging her glasses up her nose.

“And finally, is there any chance that you’re pregnant?” She asked, no doubt having rehearsed the same script about thirty times that day alone.

Bugsy gave her a flat smile, “Small chance, but I guess that’s what this is for, huh?”

The nurse looked at her then, as if mulling over the words before she said something, “Small chance?”

“I mean, nothing is a hundred percent effective,” Bugsy tried to weasel her way out of the awkward conversation, because she had absolutely no intention of letting the nurse know her and Spencer had been at it like bunnies since the Hotch had forced them to take medical leave. Who knew having so much time on her hands with her very handsome boyfriend would have that effect?

The nurse pursed her lips, and already the woman felt like she’d said too much.

“Alright, we’re going to do a routine test, just need a quick urine sample,” Bugsy felt her cheeks heat, though she was in no position to argue. Her discomfort must have been more obvious than she thought, however, as the nurse went on to explain, “If I give you this implant and there’s a fertilised egg, it can lead to ectopic pregnancy, in which case you’ll need surgery. Trust me, honey, peeing in a cup is your easy option,”

She gave the practitioner a small nod, wondering if she needed to message Spencer to say she’d be running a little late. She knew he was likely doing the sudoku in the waiting room magazine, since he’d refused to let her come alone. And even though she’d told him she would be fine on her own, he’d seen through it, had even offered to get her ice cream on the way home for putting on a brave face.

And yet her face was nothing short of horror struck not even half an hour later when the nurse showed her the stick with empathetic eyes.

“Congratulations,” The woman said cautiously, a fake smile plastered on her face as the girl stared at her, utterly gobsmacked.

“But, I thought…” Bugsy stammered, running a finger over where the nurse had removed her implant, “But I had everything ready, I never let it get late, I did what I was supposed to,”

“You said it yourself, honey, nothing is a hundred percent effective besides abstinence-”

“That’s just what parents say to make sure their kids aren’t banging every Tom, Dick and Harry out there!” Bugsy was near screeching, the worry in her tone clear as a bell and her chest hot with panic.

Pregnant. She was pregnant, there was no way she could be…

Except there was exactly a way she could be, seeing as she struggled even on a dry spell to keep her hands off Spencer longer than a few days at a time. And he was just as bad.

The nurse huffed, rifling through her drawers for a handful of pamphlets. She passed them to Bugsy whose mouth was still bobbing with more expletives she held herself back from saying, and it wasn’t until she saw the happy couple on the front of the first one, holding a very swollen and round bump that she thought she might be sick.

Comical timing, she hissed at herself.

“There are always options, sweetheart. Abortion is legal in Virginia, if that is what you decide, however there is always information and support that we recommend looking into before you make a solid decision,” Her response was professional even though her expression was compassionate, and Bugsy knew she must have looked scared because that was exactly how she felt and she had little to no room to hide it.

Abortion? Is that what she wanted? Except it wasn’t just about what she wanted, it was what Spencer wanted too. Even if he would argue against that being the case in a heartbeat, even if he would tell her she had every right to be the only one to make a decision, no matter what he thought. But maybe it wasn’t so much about needing his opinion for that reason, and more it was because she had absolutely no clue what to do and Spencer was always good at making sense of the things she didn’t know how to deal with.

She nodded silently, her mouth dry as sandpaper as she took the leaflets and stuffed them in the bottom of her purse where she hoped Spencer wouldn’t go looking.

She barely remembered standing on liquid legs, barely remembered the way her chest felt tight and her head spun as she thought of the fact her body had a baby growing inside it.

No, it wasn’t a baby. Not yet. It was likely the size of a grain of sand, miniscule. That wasn’t a baby, that was nothing.

But it would be. Eventually. It would be hers and Spencer’s baby.

And she wanted to tell him, wanted to tell him the second she saw him there in the waiting room, his head shooting up the second the door opened and she left looking a little ill and shaken.

“All done? Everything go as normal?” He preened, standing immediately as she neared him, his hand immediately weaving around her shoulder to pull her close by. Gently, ofcourse, because she had a big, fat bandage where her implant should have been.

“Y-yeah,” She stammered, hoping he didn’t hear the shake in her throat. Yet she knew immediately that he did. Because he leaned in to give her a delicate kiss to her forehead not even a moment later, “C-can we go straight home, I’m not feeling ice cream anymore,”

He looked worried, as anyone who knew her would because Bugsy turning down free pudding was a blaring red siren in his eyes.

“Yeah, sure,” He said, stroking a gentle hand over the side of her head and leading her where he’d parked the car.

And it was that worry, the same cloud that hung over him for months with Scratch and his mom and the Dirty Dozen and everything else that was put onto his shoulder that made her shut her mouth right then and there. He didn’t need one other thing to contend with, not when he was already carrying the weight of the world.

And so she wouldn’t tell him. Not yet at least.

MONTH TWO. The one with the scan.

“Spence, would you stop worrying, I’m sure everything will be fine,” She urged in the gentlest tone she could muster. Yet she was a hypocrite, because she felt her hands shaking as she sat in the chair, trying to adjust her sleeves for something to do and Spencer stopped his leg from bouncing.

Looking over at her, he sighed, holding out a large palm and weaving her fingers in between his and she flicked a look over at him, her own eyes nervous.

“I’m sorry,” He gave her a guilty smile, “If it helps, it’s half excitement too,”

And she smiled then, shaking her head as he squeezed her hand gently.

“Me too,” She confessed, looking down at her stomach that didn’t seem all too different than usual. She’d felt a few symptoms up until this point, a bit of nausea but that was nothing she couldn’t handle, headaches here and there. But it wasn’t anything exactly life changing that she’d expected when she’d always thought of pregnancy.

If anything, none of it felt real quite just yet. Having only been a few weeks since she’d told Spencer, they’d spent the majority of the time searching for houses and appointments and gynaecologists and neonatal care, and whenever they were free, they were trying to get used to the idea of the two of them as parents.

“Did you know they’re around half an inch long by now,” Spencer said, his hazel eyes falling to where her shirt hid her stomach that had yet to change no matter how many times he stared at it, “About a third of that is made up of their head,”

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” She shrugged, stroking her thumb along the edge of his pinky finger, “It’s your kid, they’re going to have biggest brain out there,”

He snickered, lifting her hand to press a kiss to the back of it softly, “If they have even half your brains, we’re going to be raising the next Galileo,”

“Mr and Mrs Reid,” Their heads shot up at the midwife, Bugsy fumbling for words to correct him as the two of them stood up to greet him with bashful smiles. She didn’t need to look at Spencer’s face to know he’d gone bright red.

“It’s uh, Prentiss-Reid,” Spencer spluttered as they entered and the nurse looked again at his chart with wide eyes, his cheeks a little pink himself and he ushered the two of them into his office with a smile.

“So it is, I do apologise,” He said earnestly, holding a hand out to gesture Bugsy to sit on the reclining bed, “I hate to stereotype, but usually when dad books the appointments, its because their wives are already doing a hundred other things,”

“It’s okay, it happens,” She said with an awkward chuckle, avoiding Spencer’s eyes because they still hadn’t had that talk. Even though she knew her mother would frown at her grandchild being born a bastard, she didn’t care much for Elizabeth’s opinion. It wasn’t like marriages had ever led to good things for her mother anyway.

She hopped up onto the examination cot, her heart quivering just the slightest in worry because the smell of bleach and rubber made the whole thing real. Until then, having a grain of rice growing inside her seemed like a fever dream since she’d only had a handful of side effects, throwing up could have easily been passed off as bad chicken, the head aches could have just been her eyes straining from using her computer too much.

“Okay, everything feels okay, Mom? Nothing concerning at all?” And then the midwife said things like that, mom, and the part of her that almost forgot she was pregnant came to a screeching halt.

She’d be a mom. Someone would call her mom. The thought of it made her suck in a breath.

“Uh, no.” She cleared her throat and felt Spencer grab her hand, “Morning sickness is kicking my ass, but nothing worrying,”

The nurse chuckled, and she felt Spencer rubbing his thumb over the back of her palm, his eyes burning into the side of her head.

“Well, if it’s alright, I need you to lift your shirt up a little so we can have a see what’s going on,” He said with a kind smile, and she realised then he’d slipped latex gloves over his hands, and brandished a bottle of gel.

She nodded absently, doing as he said and lifting her shirt to sit under her breasts, drawing the hem of her skirt down so he had a space to apply. And the second he did she sucked in breath through her nose, the cold of the air conditioning chilling her to her marrow, and she tried telling herself that’s why her hands were shaking.

She felt Spencer’s fingers curve through her hair, and she reminded herself to breathe, looking over at him with nervous eyes she hoped he didn’t see straight through. But judging by the way he scooted the chair forward and gave her an encouraging smile, she guessed he’d seen the flicker of doubt in an instant.

“It’s okay, it’s going to be fine,” He murmured, his own fear buried deep somewhere she couldn’t see anymore the second she had been the one to look to him for help. She knew she wanted this, knew she’d always dreamed of Spencer and her having their happily ever after. She knew whenever she’d let herself think of a little boy with chocolate curls and hazel eyes that she wanted all of that and more.

But it was all so… real. Like seeing a movie come to life, and she was starring centre stage. Her body wasn’t a disposable shell that held thirty plus years of stupid mistakes and regrets and tattoos she’d decided she hated now. Her body had a whole other human inside it.

The midwife clicked the machine on, the transducer wand ready in his hand as he gently put it on her lower stomach, barely a few centimetres from her panties, and she wondered why they showed the wand roaming over the woman’s belly button on tv shows since that was entirely wrong and not nearly as embarrassing. She let out a shaky breath, and Spencer stroked her head again, forcing her to give him an unsure look, like she was trying to calm herself for his sake but couldn’t.

His eyes were anxious though he squeezed her again with a smile and she saw it immediately, like he too was trying to be brave for her.

She had never loved him so much.

“Apologies for the shock, I know the gel can be a little cold,” The nurse said with a grin, and it was only then she realised the screen had lit up with a black and white image, one she’d seen a thousand times when she’d studied neonatal procedures for her degree.

She knew that was her womb lining, and that was the amniotic fluid and that right there-

Bugsy froze, and judging by the way Spencer’s hand tightened around her own, he had too. She felt her mouth drop with a laugh of shock, and she sat up slightly to take a closer look at the monitor.

“And there is baby,” The midwife said, his expression warming as he watched Spencer’s stand up to lean over the bed, not once letting go of the woman’s hand, the two of them utterly enraptured in the screen, “Probably about the size of a raspberry,”

And Bugsy laughed, her eyes lined with tears as she looked up at Spencer’s equally wetted hues. He was grinning from ear to ear when he looked down at her, and it wasn’t long before he brought his lips to her forehead, his nose and throat burning with a held cry.

“Do you hear that? A whole raspberry already?” She said, her voice wobbling and he giggled, sitting back in his seat and rubbing his cheeks with his sleeve. “I am good at this cooking thing, might as well call me an easy bake oven,”

Spencer shook his head with another chuckle, his eyes trailing back to the little blob on the screen that looked more like a toy alien than anything else, and held her hand between both of his like he was in prayer.

Because Spencer never believed in anything sacred and divine until he met Bugsy.

MONTH THREE. The one where they tell everyone.

“What are you doing?” Bugsy jumped out of her skin as JJ all but materialised behind her. She looked over her shoulder guiltily, her hand still half way through pouring out her mug of coffee Derek had handed her before he left to get lunch.

She turned to see the blonde with her own steaming mug of decaf in her hands. She’d been taking the lack of caffeine much better this time around since having a second baby to breastfeed, considering she was nothing short of evil when she’d had Henry, which had been Spencer’s words not Bugsy’s. And it wasn’t as if the woman could blame her. She was grouchy when she didn’t get her regular dose even before being pregnancy, Derek had once gotten a kick to the shin when he’d disturbed her on a day she’d been too busy to grab one on her way to the office.

She was a fiend for the bitter god. And everyone knew it. Which was exactly why JJ’s eyebrows were all but raised into her hairline seeing the girl who would usually be in the stages of withdrawal by now tipping the drink away.

“Uh, the milk tasted funky,” She excused, though the way JJ narrowed her eyes at the poor excuse told her it hadn’t passed by a mile.

“Right, the milk that Hotch picked up this morning?” JJ pursed her lips, sliding her own mug onto the side and jutting her hip.

And as if he were summoned, Hotch sidled up to the kitchenette, Rossi and Tara hot on his heels as they flicked through some paperwork, and his head shot up the minute he heard his name.

His eyes trailed to where the girl flipped her mug upside on the drying rack, and his brow furrowed.

“Is everything alright?” He asked, and she huffed in response, wiping her hands on her jeans.

“Yes, I’m fine,” She grumbled, shaking her head, “I don’t know what you’re all so wound up about, it’s not like I’m dying, I just don’t feel like coffee today-”

“Oh my god,” Penelope gasped where she crept behind Hotch with her very favourite octopus mug in tow, one that was nearly thrown to the floor when she heard the words pour from the girl’s mouth, “Are you sick? Like in the body or in the head? Rossi, check her pulse, I’m going to get a thermometer-”

“Pen, I’m fine,” She said unconvincingly and she tried to skirt past the group that seemed to have her surrounded. Seeing Spencer pulling up the rear in search of lunch she felt herself sigh in relief, because he would think of a much better excuse than she ever could.

She had barely been able to keep her mouth shut for the months they had been secretly dating, and had relished in the peace it brought her when everyone knew. But the midwife had said it was common to keep things under wraps at least until the first trimester was over. Apparently the million of questions that were sure to be heading their way would cause her unnecessary stress, though she’d argue having to sneak to the sink every morning and dispose of a delicious looking coffee was torture enough.

“What’s up?” Spencer asked as she ducked towards him, his hand consciously wrapping around her waist, and she huffed again, looking to him with a silent plea.

“They’re profiling me,” Bugsy said, and he felt his gut knot because he should have known it wouldn’t be long before they caught on. It was their job to pick apart out of the ordinary behaviour, and Bugsy going teetotal on caffeine was definitely something of a head turner.

“I told you that diet would cause a stir,” He joked, hoping they bought his pathetic attempt of an excuse, as he gave her side a gentle squeeze, and hoped that he could lead her back to her desk like she was a lost little lamb being prowled upon by nosy wolves that rarely took no for an answer.

And it almost worked, almost, until JJ snapped her fingers and pointed at his wandering hand.

“See that, that is the fourth time you’ve been all touchy and weird this week,” The blonde surprised, her brows furrowing, “Bugsy hates PDA, usually by now she would have whacked you over the head and called you a perv,”

Bugsy smashed her lips together because she couldn’t exactly disagree with her. That’s exactly what she usually did. Usually would tell Spencer to stop being so horny in a place of work even if she felt her cheeks heat at the delicate grabs of her stomach fat.

But whether it was the little bean now around the size of a small lemon that had made her mellow and affectionate, or whether the lack of caffeine really was making her feel vulnerable, she wasn’t sure. And the whole thing was only made worse by Hotch’s eyes burning into the side of her, and she felt the trail of his gaze head straight for her stomach.

“Come to think of it, I only saw you with a lime and soda at Savannah’s birthday last week,” Rossi pointed out, wagging his finger in her direction, his brown hues widening in thought, “When Penelope asked if you wanted tequila you said-”

“I’m all tequila-ed out,” Penelope chimed in with the same frown, “But that can’t be, when have you ever been tequila-ed out, that’s like impossible, even that night we had to help Spencer get you in the shower because you’d thrown up everywhere you were demanding more,”

She felt her cheeks heat thinking about her twenty ninth birthday, or atleast the parts of it she could remember of it before the rest of the gaps were filled with black spaces of time that she guessed had been robbed from her by the shots she piled on.

“Maybe I just didn’t feel like tequila, can a girl not live in the moment?” She tried to rebuttal, only Penelope gave her a blank look that told her to try again because the Bugsy she knew would slap her for saying something so dumb. She opened her mouth to correct her again, but Hotch beat her to it.

“You know Hayley got really affectionate a couple months into being pregnant,” The man said, his eyes swirling with something proud and warm when he saw Bugsy’s head flick to him like she’d been caught red handed, which they had. “Though, if you ask me I think she was just a little sorry for herself that I took the coffee away,”

There was a beat of silence, and the room held its breath. Even Tara, who had only known them the best part of a few months raised her hand to her mouth in shock, and Bugsy shot a look at Spencer in utter defeat.

“We tried,” She said with her shoulders shrugging, and it was then that the office was filled with a piercing scream that turned a fair few heads and the infamous octopus mug was thrown clear across the kitchen floor, one of his tentacles snapping clean off.

“OH MY GOD, IT’S TRUE? YOU’RE PREGNANT?” Penelope wailed like a banshee, and Bugsy couldn’t help but break into a smile, nodding at the woman who screeched again and yanked her in for a tight hug, “Oh my god, there's going to be three of you, three geniuses, three little einsteins that I want to smush together and kiss all over-”

“Garcia, I think she needs air if she’s going to make another little genius,” Rossi said, and the tech analyst pulled away aghast, cupping Bugsy’s face that was still grinning ear to ear with a chuckle.

“Oh my god, I didn’t hurt you did I? Or the baby- Oh my god there’s a baby in there!”

Hotch wrapped a rare yet tender arm around Spencer’s shoulder, giving him a little pat and a “Congratulations” while Rossi smiled knowingly between the couple and JJ had her turn smothering Bugsy in a tearful hug.

And by the time Derek had walked into the office with his everything bagel hanging between his teeth and a tea in his hands, his onyx hues fell to Penelope, JJ and Bugsy exchanging weepy words while Tara handed them tissues with her own sparkling eyes.

“What fresh hell did I miss?”

MONTH FOUR. The one where she starts looking different.

She huffed, her fingers gripping the edge of her jeans and yanking them up her thighs as far as they would go. She felt like everything had shrunk in the wash, or like she was trying on a doll’s wardrobe. Surely she hadn’t gained that much weight in just a few months, but then again she’d been all but living off chocolate pudding cups since the Bean decided it wanted sugar, sugar and more sugar.

She grunted in annoyance, her arms and back aching where she was leaning over to pull at the infernal things. She barely had a second to pout childishly, before kind hands were wrapping around her stomach and a mouth kissed at her neck tenderly.

“What’s wrong? Talk to me,” His voice was honey sweet, thick and goopy with love overflowing as he pulled her to his chest, his hand caressed the bump that seemed to be getting in the way of her and her favourite jeans. Spencer knew she tried to ignore the symptoms that almost every woman felt during pregnancy, he knew she compared herself to how JJ had handled both pregnancies gracefully and looked better than ever even as a mother of two. He knew she hated complaining because she didn’t want him to think she was miserable carrying their kid, but god was she getting sick of her clothes pinching her in.

“I’m getting fatter,” Bugsy grumbled, her eyes darting to the vivid lines that had deepened into the crease of her hips within a few weeks and she winced, “I’m not even halfway, how does this kid want to eat pudding all the time?”

Spencer frowned, shaking his head slightly because he refrained from telling her what a silly statement it was, knowing it would only make her feel worse, and instead pressed delicate kisses to her jaw, squeezing her closer. He’d noticed the stretch marks, just as he’d noticed her face and hips gathering weight a bit more than usual, and was just grateful there was even more Bugsy to love.

“You’re eating for two, you’re literally growing a whole life inside of you. I think that is more than enough grounds to eat whatever you want,” He murmured, biting the inside of his cheek when she sighed as though she didn’t believe him, “Honey, clothes are replaceable. What your body’s trying to do is create a little bubble around you and this little pudding fiend so you can feed them when they’re out here,”

Bugsy knew he was right. She’d spent well over a hundred hours researching hormone levels and how pregnant bodies are changing all hours of the day to accommodate the foetus, she knew it was normal for things to look different. Had it been on anyone else she wouldn’t have batted an eye. But it didn’t make the sting of seeing her body morph into one she didn’t recognise any less harsh.

“I know,” She hummed somewhat defeated, turning in his arms to press her face in his neck, “I just didn’t expect it to happen so fast is all,”

Spencer smiled warmly, because every day he thought she had gotten impossibly prettier. He hadn’t believed in ‘pregnancy glow’, in fact he’d chalked it down to some sort of innate scientific survival tactic that associated a vulnerable woman with looking angelic, at least not until he’d woken up to see her stomach protruding from her pyjama top in a clear curve shape and he thought her face looked like she should be in some Monet painting, dozing in a field like a wide eyed doe.

“I know, it’s a lot for anyone to go through. But you know I’m so grateful for you,” Spencer said, and he felt her smile without even seeing it. Her fingers wove into his hair at the nape of his neck, kissing a trail up his chest because he suspected she looked somewhat embarrassed. “Besides, I’m not complaining. It means I get to do this,”

She felt two large hands grab at the fat of her bum cheeks and she squeaked in surprise, even though she heard him laugh in her ear at her reaction. That had been another thing she’d noticed, and how could she not. Penelope said just the other day that she was ‘baking a bun in the oven and cake in the trunk’ with a little wink, and she’d had to excuse herself quickly for lack of a response.

And Spencer wasn’t lying. He wasn’t complaining with any of it, not by a long shot.

MONTH FIVE. The one with the mood swings.

“So you guys really don’t want to know the sex?” JJ asked, sipping on her tea as she chatted with Bugsy who was balancing biscuits on top of her now protruding stomach. It was as if overnight the baby had stretched out enough to make themselves a damn penthouse suite in Bugsy’s tummy.

“We want it to be a surprise, either way we’re going to love the little bean, even if they do keep kicking my bladder at four am,” She said, balancing the tenth cookie on the tower she’d made, reaching over carefully for another one, “I swear if the bean kicks my cookie tower I’m giving them a hideous name,”

“It’s good to feel the baby kicking at this stage, it helps develop their joints and bones so they’re stronger when they’re born.” Spencer inputted helpfully as he slid a fresh mug of decaf tea over to her desk.

“Next time the baby kicks your uterus walls, Spence, gimme a shout and we’ll discuss how great it is,” Bugsy said with a small smile and he paused, looking at JJ as if he was caught in a trap, suddenly well aware of his mistake.

“Point taken,” He conceded quietly, and JJ chuckled because she’d seen Will just as hesitant to piss her off in both of her pregnancies. And she knew Bugsy would never hold it against him, that Spencer’s head just ran away from him sometimes.

She halted her little game and carefully leaned over to draw the mug to her lips, too impatient to wait for it to cool down fully and she barely spotted Derek swooping around the corner of the desk.

“Good morning, Mommies and Daddy Genius,” He greeted in that chirpy tone, his hand snatching up the top cookie and scarfing it down before she could protest.

Bugsy shared her snacks all the time, it was a no brainer that they took a bite here and there out of each other's goodies before they could get a smack to the wrist. And Derek had certainly noticed a few of his Rolos missing the last time he bought a pack, and a particularly cheerful Bugsy smirking at him over her desk.

It wasn’t a huge deal, and yet Bugsy sat up in a gasp, and the entire biscuit tower fell to a crumbling mess on the floor.

“Well done, princess, Hotch is going to-” Derek stopped mid sentence when he saw her sniffle, and his eyes widened at the sight of her eyes glistening with tears, “Bugsy- are you okay-”

“My cookies! Derek!” She whined pitifully, and she buried her face in her hands, “My cookies, I was so going to eat the shit out of those, they were gonna be so good, Derek,”

Morgan looked gobsmacked, his head whipping between the woman leaning against the desk with an understanding smile and Spencer who was already rubbing her shoulders with his lips smashed together, trying not to laugh.

“Honey, it’s okay, he didn’t mean to,” Her partner tried to coo, though he couldn’t help but feel sorry for the way Derek scrambled to draw out his wallet.

“I’ll get you more, Bug, I swear, they sell them by the deli down the street, right?” He asked, jittering in his bones because he’d never made her cry before. He worried or a moment Hotch might just put him on sabbatical leave for such an offense. Emily would probably fly to Virginia just to cave his skull in, “I’m sorry, I’ll go get more, I’ll even get you strawberry milk-”

“Chocolate milk,” She wailed, and JJ slid a box of tissues over to the pitiful girl with a silent snicker. She remembered all too well the feeling of unexplained emotion crashing over her, and she didn’t doubt that the tough faced Bugsy would be back to normal any moment soon.

“Chocolate milk, got it,” Derek said, with a nod, and he all but darted for the elevators, in a hurry Spencer somewhat suspected was down to the fact he feared for his life if Penelope got a whiff of what happened.

Bugsy sniffled for a moment, drawing a tissue out the box and dabbing her eyes sullenly, her feelings slightly worse for wear even if she had a small inkling of doubt that she was really so torn up about the cookies as her body made it seem.

But she had been thinking about them all morning; made herself promise she would only eat them once she got the stack fifteen high at least.

“Are you okay, baby?” Spencer asked, his gaze empathetic as she snuffled her sobs into the palm of her hands. He wasn’t too worried, even if he hated seeing her cry just as much as anyone else did. And it wasn’t that he didn’t take her seriously. But when she’d been crying just that morning because her shower gel spilled on the floor and tipped almost all the way out, or even when she’d stepped on a snail walking into the building and smushed it into the ground, effectively killing it, he seemed to be getting used to her mood swings.

She sniffed woefully, “I was really looking forward to those, and now I think I was too mean to Derek and…” Her eyes glistened with fresh tears, and the sight of it made Spencer sigh, leaning forward to kiss the side of her head because it must be difficult being so out of your usual self for nine months.

“And what?” He prompted softly. Only she burst out crying again, reaching forward to drag him into a hug that told him she was feeling extra sorry for herself.

He wouldn’t blame her. Would sit through every weep and sob and tantrum if it meant he got to show her even more times over that he loved her endlessly.

However he did have to hold in the giggle when she wailed; “I think I really do want strawberry milk,”

MONTH SIX. The one with the false labour.

She had been in Hotch’s office when she felt it.

Embarrassingly so, her first thought was trapped gas. She’d gotten a lot of that considering the baby had decided it craved spice, and had been planning to excuse herself when it felt like her whole abdomen seized as if she’d been hit with a particularly nasty period cramp.

Her hand flew to her stomach where she sat with Hotch reviewing her latest reports, the same quarterly check the whole team was mandated to have with their boss since Cruz became section chief. Hotch didn’t miss a beat, the folder in his hand hitting the desk in an instant as he tensed, looking at her with caution.

“Are you alright?” He asked, and she held her breath for a moment. Spencer was out with Rossi giving a lecture in Washington DC, JJ had the day off for her mom’s birthday, Penelope and Morgan were taking Tara to lunch to show her a few more of their regular spots. It was just them and Anderson in the office for the next few hours, possibly the worst time out of any to have an empty floor.

“Yeah- I just, woah,” Her stomach gave another lurch of a painful twist and her hand slapped on the table to keep herself steady. She breathed through the pain, because she’d had much worse only that wasn’t what was making her heart race. It was fear. Because she wasn’t due for another twelve weeks at least, and while she’d heard of baby’s being born as premature as six months, she knew premy babies suffered major complications later on, let alone the stress their body goes under during the actual birth.

Bean, as the team had affectionately named the baby since the couple had firmly decided they didn’t want to know the sex, was about the size of red cabbage, tiny in the scheme of things even though it felt like just a few minutes ago they were a grain of rice.

“Okay, it’s okay, stay calm,” Hotch said in a smooth voice, gentle yet reassuring as he rounded his desk in a flash and put his hand on her shoulder, “Do you feel like you need to use the toilet? Any back ache or irritability?”

Bugsy breathed out through her nose as her lungs jittered with nerves, “N-no, I don’t need the bathroom, why would that matter?”

Aaron stroked a large kind hand down her spine, watching her face scrunch in pain for a second time, and he slowly began directing her towards the door, taking small steps so she wasn’t rushing. “Needing to use the bathroom is an early sign of labour, it’s your body's way of helping expand your pelvis to accommodate the head. Any back ache or frustration at all?”

He didn’t care that he’d had to repeat himself, not even when he was usually so against it, because he could feel the own unease rising in his throat like bile even if he tried to keep his face as neutral as possible.

He would be damned if he let her see how worried he was, and so he swallowed heavily, holding his other hand out for her to take when they approached the stairs. Anderson was on his feet in seconds when he saw his unit chief leading the woman with a tightly concealed frown, fumbling around for his phone.

“Agent Prentiss?” He exclaimed, darting around the mess of chairs and paper and desks to approach them, “Would you like me to call Dr Reid? An ambulance, perhaps?”

“She's alright, I’m driving her to the ER, thank you Anderson,” Aaron responded politely, his hand still resting on her back, and the agent nodded, digging around for his keys.

“I can drive, if you’d like to ride in the back with her,” Grant offered with worried eyes as Bugsy’s face crumpled in agony again, and Hotch’s head whipped to her, and his composure crumbled for a moment.

“Bugsy, hey, it’s okay, we’re gonna be okay, honey,” He cooed, and Anderson was quick to open the glass doors, “Did you pack a bag at all-”

“No, Spencer told me I should but I said it was too early, why is that man always right,” She grumbled, her footsteps weary and jittery as the three of them got into the elevator.

Hotch fought a smile, trying to remember everything he’d memorised before Hailey had Jack. The 5-1-1 rule blared through his head, and he glanced at his watch for a fraction of a second, and he wondered for a moment if he was going to have to write off a company vehicle for the fact his youngest agent gave birth in the back seat.

“I’m afraid that’s just how Reid operates,” Hotch said, pulling his phone out to dial the man in question and let him know where they were headed, “It’s probably nothing, Hailey was getting cramps all the time once she reached her third trimester, but we’ll get you checked out to be safe,”

“Really?” She looked at him with pitiful eyes and he nodded with a tight smile, committing to his illusion of calmness even if he swore he hadn’t felt so scared in months.

Because it wasn’t just Bugsy anymore, it was Bugsy and her baby. Her and Reid’s baby. The two people who deserved their happy ending more so than anyone else he knew.

And he felt her hand slip into his then as she accepted his answer, in fact she didn’t let go the entire time she waited on Spencer and Aaron was in no rush to leave her side. Even when she lay back on the table and had the midwife checking everything over, he stayed by her head (no doubt to avoid a very awkward conversation), stroked her hair when she fretted through a few more cramps, even when Spencer burst in through the door with Morgan at his heels looking like the two of them had just ran a marathon.

“Is everything okay- what’s wrong- do you need fluids- do you need ice-” Spencer rushed on his odd breath, his chest puffing with inhales, and he pretended he wasn’t seeing stars floating across his vision.

“I’m assuming by your reaction you’re dad,” The nurse said, pulling off the blue gloves and dropping her mask from her mouth.

“Yes, he is, he’s dad,” Morgan filled in for him as Spencer all but fell back against the wall, because he really should have drank something other than soda and coffee this morning. He was close to swaying on his feet when he stepped over to his girlfriend, and she took his hand in the her own, or atleast the one that wasn’t occupied by Hotch’s tight hold.

“Don’t worry, everything is alright with mom and baby,” She said, noting down a few things on her chart and the four of them took an audible sigh of relief, “Braxton Hicks contractions are very common in your final trimester, it probably felt like a lot because your baby is moving to into the anterior position ready for birth,”

Bugsy’s head flopped back against the pillow in comfort and she forced herself to take a few deep breaths, willing her heart rate to go back to normal. Braxton Hicks, she should have known. Her head had been fuzzy the past few weeks as it was, but she supposed the moment she’d thought there might be something wrong with the Bean, all of her logic had flown out the window.

But at least she’d had Hotch to keep her level headed, and-

“Oh my god, Anderson,” She jolted up, her legs stuck in the stirrups the midwife had place her into while she examined everything, “We need to tell Anderson, the poor guy was so worried,”

Hotch chose not to tell her he’d seen Anderson go as white as a ghost the second she’d turned her back, and instead patted her leg as Spencer went to speak to the midwife a little more, no doubt picking apart every single symptom she’d presented in that huge, worried head of his.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure Anderson is fine, honey,” He said earnestly, and she looked at him like a kicked puppy, entirely sorry for the panic she’d caused, “Let’s just get you your underwear back, huh?”

MONTH SEVEN. The one where they decorate the nursery.

“What about Elias,”

“Veto,”

Bugsy pulled a shunned expression as she carefully rolled the wallpaper up the wall.

“Mason? Niko, stop,” She proposed, one hand on the wall while using the other to push the nosey feline away from the wet paste she’d been brushing on the wall.

He sat politely at her chide, blinking at her with those big eyes as he watched her work with a twitching tail, almost entertained at the woman who had ballooned up in just a few weeks struggling to do a relatively easy task.

“Hmm, Mason can go on the bench,” Spencer responded where he was sitting at the other end of the wall doing the same thing only much faster, though she’d argue it was a little easier since he wasn't carrying a large coconut strapped to his stomach.

They’d left the apartment just two weeks ago. Derek had been the one to help them cart their small amount of furniture into the modest house on the outskirts of West Springfield. It was large by Spencer’s standards, even if Bugsy had seen what grandeur looked like in her own childhood homes, but it didn’t matter. Because walls and floors and fancy grand pianos had never bought her love. Yet the first evening they’d spent in their new home they had slept on a mattress on the floor, the list of things to do the following day rattling around their heads. But they had a home. They had the picket fence with the nice school down the road and the bus stop within eyesight of the kitchen where their kid would one day walk to their door with a book bag and glasses like Spencer’s.

She had never felt like she belonged somewhere until she had a home with him.

“What about Ada for a girl?” Spencer called over his shoulder, where he had almost caught up to where she was still working on the small patch of wall. The paper was proving frustrating for her swollen fingers, considering the entire thing, when put together, made up a mural of little woodland creatures amidst a forest and left zero room for error, “Named after Ada Lovelace, the woman who pioneered computers,”

Considering it for a moment, she nodded, “That’s pretty. Ada makes top ten,”

Flipping the last part up to stick against the thick glue, she ran her hands over the seams to be sure it aligned perfectly with the rest of the picture. Satisfied when it matched and a little fox stared down at her, she smiled, tilting her head up where Spencer was standing over her, watching her concentrate.

“All done!” She chirped, and he bent down to give her a kiss to her puckered lips, sliding a hand beneath her arm to help her up.

“Looks perfect, you’re really carrying the team honey,” He mused as she got to her feet with a little whine, wrapping her arms around his middle in a proud hug.

“I know, what would you ever do without me?”

He laughed, looking at her with an adoring gaze.

The light cracked through the open window, laying over her face delicately. The house was still bare, still in need of carpets and a good dusting, still had leaky pipes and ants in the pantry. Yes, they had a pantry now. But it was a start. It was a home.

“I say we leave the cradle for another day, baby is calling for frozen grapes again,” She said, rubbing a hand over her protruding belly button and he smiled. Spencer could have sworn he was the luckiest guy in the world when he called her his friend. He thought maybe he should have bought a lottery ticket the same day she told him she loved him. The day she became his girlfriend he thinks he may have died and the past three years have been purely a dream.

But watching the breeze kiss her cheeks and stroke her hair, watching her eyes rove over the room that would keep their baby safe and warm in just a few weeks, even seeing her smile at him like he had handed her the whole universe in a box when she was the one growing a whole human inside her; Spencer felt like his life was so much better than he ever hoped it would be.

“Frozen grapes, coming right up,” He said, slipping his fingers in between his to help her down the winding staircase which had been a winner for her immediately. It’s like we have a castle, Spence. “You or the baby could ask for a whole damn ox and I’d give it to you.”

She laughed, holding onto the bannister as they headed downstairs to the kitchen that was in dire need of fresh paint.

“What if I said baby wants a holiday to Cancun and another cat,”

“I’d say baby is onto something there,” Spencer said, sweeping her from the final step and giving her a wet kiss to her head, “But first, grapes.”

MONTH EIGHT. The one where she gets cranky.

“Oh my god,” She groaned as she threw herself into her wheely chair, her button up shirt barely accommodating her stomach that was well and truly ready to pop.

Derek Morgan loved her, he truly loved her like she was one of his sisters, dare say he had loved her since that day he’d carried her out of the church she was held hostage in by Cyrus. He had seen her at her rock bottom, had seen her graduate with flying colours, had even put his job on the line for her; covered her back from a stupid mistake at a bar when she popped a little molly on government pay.

Derek loved her. He did. But the moment he saw her slump into her chair, her face scrunched up in frustration, he was collecting his mug of coffee and all but bolting for the door and heading straight for Penelope’s lair.

“Back pain again?” JJ asked, flitting past a very frantic Morgan and heading towards Rossi’s office with a stack of papers in her arms. Bugsy let out something close to a growl in return, and JJ took it as a yes.

“I swear I have been pregnant for years,” She huffed, barely reaching over to where her keyboard sat at her desk. Tara nudged it forward for her to grab, because it seemed like she was on her breaking point enough as it was, and received a brief nod of thanks “I can’t remember a time when my back didn’t hurt, or my boobs were aching or my head wasn’t all fuzzy and weird and- OH for the love of god SWITCH ON YOU PIECE OF SHIT,”

JJ’s brows raised as the keyboard mouse went flying off the side of her desk in protest, rolling straight past where Hotch and Spencer were strolling through the office, her boyfriend carrying the biggest Strawberry Milkshake he could find on this side of town.

If Hotch wanted to say anything about her damaging property, he thought it smarter to keep his mouth shut as she swivelled to face the two of them, her expression already irritated by the worried stare they shot her way.

“What?” She said with a bite, and Spencer raised his hands in surrender, which left her gaze to slide to Hotch.

And Hotch loved her too, loved her more than he would ever admit. But he swore he the second her eyes clamped on his, Aaron Hotchner considered an exorcism might be necessary.

“What, what are you staring at me for?” She snapped, throwing her hands out like a bratty teenager, and Hotch cleared his throat before he spoke, something embarrassingly close to fear shaking his vocal chords.

“Have you given any more thought to maternity leave, yet?” He asked and her eye twitched, and it was as if he saw the stapler was next on her list of things to send flying off the table, preferably straight at his head. “I would be more than happy to pull some strings so you take longer off after the baby is born, maybe even Spencer could start his paternity early-”

“What?” She said for a third time, like she was a broken record. And she knew she was being unfair, perhaps even cruelly so. But she would make it up to them later, when she was in a better frame of mind. Her underwear rode up and pinched where her uterus had begun to drop, her trousers itched for whatever reason, her face was hot from just walking from the elevator to her chair and that was just since she’d entered the office. She hadn’t got much energy for showers anymore and so washing her hair became some ugly affair where Spencer got in with her and did it for her, only last time he put a little too much product on and got the suds in her eyes and they had spent twenty minutes rinsing her face, naked and dripping wet, over the sink. She felt awful, awful for how she was being so irrationally rude, but it was like every inch of her being was uncomfortable. And there was still another month to go.

“Good god, man, don’t poke the bear,” Tara hummed as she passed, taking her own half full mug to the kitchen to escape whatever was rumbling in that hot head of hers.

Hotch swallowed heavily, noticing how Spencer stayed deadly quiet no doubt because he’d learned his lesson in trying to force Bugsy into doing something when she was like this, “I’m saying I think it would be good for you to take some time off, you’ve both worked hard enough as it is and with the baby being so close, it would be good to take it easy for a few weeks-”

She pressed her lips together, because she knew he was probably trying to help, probably trying to be considerate, and yet the heat of annoyance bubbled up inside her all the same like a kettle on the precipice of boiling.

“If you want the big scary pregnant lady out of your way just spit it out, Hotch,” She snapped, scowling at him in a way he remembered Hailey doing when he so much as sneezed too loud.

And he couldn’t find it in him to be mad at her. Because anyone with eyes saw she was uncomfortable, he knew if she was anything like his own ex-wife then she wouldn’t be sleeping nearly as much as she should, that more than likely their kid would be already kicking with long, scrawny legs to get out and show the world what they were made of.

Hotch was saved from the firing line when his guess was proved almost immediately, and she groaned with a hand to her abdomen.

“Spencer, would you tell your kid they’re not a linebacker and that my kidneys aren’t the damn ball,” She complained, and her partner flashed her a brave smile, leaning over her to rub where she was caressing her battered organs.

“Actually, right about here will be your spleen since the baby has pushed everything around at this stage-” And with that Hotch darted towards his office because Bugsy looked ready to clip someone around the ear, and he didn’t have the heart to write her up for it.

Although for the sanctity of his team, he rushed her documents through the same afternoon and gave her an extra four weeks pay in lieu of a truce.

MONTH NINE. The one with the birth.

It had been fourteen hours already when the doctor mentioned the word caesarean.

“Caesarean? We never planned for a C-section,” Bugsy’s eyes widened where she was intermittently sucking down gas and air, Spencer patting her forehead down with an ice wet cloth.

But then again she supposed she had never planned to go into labour when getting the laundry off the washing line while Spence painted the porch.

He looked at her with nervous hazel hues where her face sparkled with sweat and water, her hand squeezing him tightly as another contraction hit.

“I’m afraid we have few options left, Miss Prentiss,” The midwife said, a woman around her age that was already masked up after prodding around her cervix for a few hours, “Fourteen hours is rough on anyone and we’re not seeing any movement past your pelvis. Any longer and you or your baby might be at risk,”

And it was the truth, but it was a harsh one, and tears sprung to her eyes hearing those last few words. She had never had any delusions it would be easy giving birth, it was revered as the most painful thing anyone could go through, but she had assumed on a hope and a prayer that things would go smoothly.

“I know it’s scary,” Spencer found his voice after a second, their hands clasped tightly together because there was more chance of snow in hell than there was he was letting her do this alone, “But, baby, you’re doing so well, and you’re almost there,” He said in a watery sweet tone, dabbing at her brow once more and the two of them exchanged a teary look, “It’s going to be okay, you’re going to be okay, they’re going to numb you for the whole thing and when it’s over we’re going to have our baby, huh?”

She smiled ruefully because he was trying desperately to cheer her up, even though it sounded like he was reassuring himself just as much as he was her.

And she nodded, because she knew he was right, and more than anything she wanted their baby to be safe, even if it meant having her insides scooped out like she was some russian nesting doll.

“O-okay, yeah, c-can Spencer stay with me?” She asked nervously, and the midwife smiled, pressing a button to call for the anesthesiologist.

“Ofcourse, honey. Just try to relax, we’re going to arrange an epidural for you,” She said in a voice that told Bugsy she’d practised staying calm in an emergency a thousand times.

Bugsy breathed through her nose, feeling Spencer swoop in to wipe the lone few tears dribbling down her cheeks.

“It’s gonna be okay, we’re gonna be okay,” He said, his voice bustling with nerves and she wanted to tell him the same, wanted to tell him she loved him more than ever for trying to put a brave face on for her sake. But she couldn’t, so she nodded frantically, leaning her forehead against his cheek and taking a few more deep breaths.

–

“You’re doing great, honey, you’re being so brave,” Spencer reassured in his biggest voice, his hand carding over the side of her hot face gently. There was blood, there was so much blood, and the sound of her monitor was the only sound that was constant and not at all worrying with its steady heart beat.

The midwives were flitting around the room, the lead obstetrician making careful incisions and handing various things Spencer didn’t want to see over to his co-workers. Because he loved their baby already, couldn’t wait to meet the mini him he’d been dreaming about since he was a boy himself, but Bugsy needed him first. She was his everything, his whole life, his whole universe fading between clear consciousness and a slightly loopy gaze as she relaxed on the table.

“Is it over? Are they here, are they okay?” She slurred, looking over at him where his hair was covered in a blue scrub cap, his entire body wrapped in protective uniform to minimise the risk of infection on her body.

He cradled her face again, shaking his head, “Not yet honey, you’re doing so good, it’s nearly over,” Spencer said, pressing his brow against hers because he had a mask over his mouth and couldn’t kiss her properly, “I love you so much, I swear I’ll try every day of my life to repay you,”

“You’re being mushy, you’re freaking me out,” She joked as if she was her regular self, because the midwives had all warned him that the sedatives would take the edge off her nerves. And he chuckled, even if he was worrying enough for the two of them, sniffling behind the stuffy mask he had to keep on until she was in recovery.

“I’m sorry, baby, I just want you to be okay,” Spencer said earnestly, and he pressed a kiss to her head anyway even if she wouldn’t feel it with his mask, “I’m gonna get you so many milkshakes when this is-”

There was a wail behind the curtain they had draped over her stomach, and both their breaths stopped in their chests.

“Is that…” Bugsy started, her eyes wide and alert even if seconds ago she had been almost drunk, “Is that it- is that them?”

And another scream resounded around the room as if to answer her.

Spencer swore he had never felt tears well in his eyes so fast until one of the midwives brought a wriggling, wrinkly bundle around the curtain, and within seconds he felt his cheeks sodden with tears.

“Oh my god,” He said his smile reaching his eyes as the little creature was put on Bugsy’s chest, and it was only then he realised she was weeping too and he resumed his position stroking her head, “It’s a-”

“It’s a girl! Spencer, we have a girl!” Bugsy’s grin went from ear to ear, her eyes round and adoring at the ugly, scrunched face still screaming at them, her eyes closed and her skin covered in a white goop, “Oh my god, she’s so beautiful,”

“I told you she’d take after you,” Spencer said, not minding the nurses sewing Bugsy up as they stared at their little girl, Bugsy’s arms holding her body weight delicately though she didn’t quite know what she was doing.

Spencer was quick to remove the mask once they cleared him to, and the second he was freed he pushed his lips to his girlfriend’s, their mouths equally as salty and sodden as one another with the way their cheeks washed with tears. Pulling away, he looked at her in the eyes, the same eyes he’d always loved, the same eyes he’d know in any life, in any world, in any fog, and their smiles were damn near blinding.

“I love you so much, I swear I’m going to make it up to you, anything you want,” Spencer said, kissing her again, his hand resting over hers where she held their baby girl on her bare chest.

She didn’t have the heart to tell him she already had everything she’d ever wanted right there with her.

“I love you so much more, Spencer,” She said quietly, the two of them pulling away when the little girl squealed again and they chuckled, quickly rushing to calm her cries as they looked at her as if they had yet to realise she was real and she was theirs, “Oh my god Spencer, you’re a daddy,”

“Bugsy, you’re a mommy,” He said with raised brows and she gasped, giggling with glee as her free hand flew to grab his face and pull him in to kiss her again, “We’re a mommy and daddy,”

The two of them burst out laughing even though overjoyed tears lined their eyes again, and Spencer trailed a large finger down her chubby cheek softly, her skin shrivelled and pruney like she’d been submerged in a bath for too long.

“Spencer, she’s perfect,” She said after a moment, her breath completely stolen when she took her in, the small head completely covered in dark hair, which she had already suspected would be there from the amount of times she found herself itching at her stomach. Her tiny fists waved in the air as her sobs subsided, beginning to warm up to the skin on Bugsy’s chest, and Spencer audibly choked in a cry of his own when her eyelids slowly blinked open and revealed forest hues damn near identical to his own. He pushed his temple to Bugsy’s again as she carefully swayed her from side to side.

“I’m never going to let anything hurt you,” He murmured, his breath warm on her collarbone and his baby girl stared back at him like she understood, even though he knew that was pretty much impossible, “Either of you,”

Bugsy sniffled with a wobbly smile, her hands shaking as she held her daughter up, “Do you want to hold her?”

Spencer looked ready to wail all over again, not that she would ever hold it against him. The two of them had been weeping all day, and their kid was a real tear jerker to look at with her thick lashes and wide eyes.

He was quick to pop open his shirt, holding his hands out nervously as she placed the baby in his arms, his fingers supporting under her head the whole time he brought her to his chest.

Bugsy smiled, the midwife checking in with her for a moment before they were ready to wheel her into the other room to rest up, while Spencer looked entirely enamoured with the little bundle in his arms.

He was a dad. He had made this beautiful, perfect little girl with the woman he loved more than anything in the world, and somehow she had given him even more reasons to feel so lucky.

“Hello, you,” He said through bleary eyes, smiling through a chuckle when he saw just how tiny she looked in his arms, and he had never seen anything look so fragile, “I’m going to try be the best dad you could ever have, okay? I’m gonna be there for all the lame parties, and the sleepovers and the big games and every single time you need help on your homework, I’m gonna be right there with you.”

“What name are we putting on the chart?” The midwife asked as Bugsy watched Spencer murmur to the sweet face that looked up at him in wonder, “Or is it just Baby Girl Prentiss for the moment?”

“It’s Reid,” Bugsy said with a smile, as Spencer poured even more of his gentle heart out in promises she knew he would keep until the day he died. And she knew without checking with him the name they chose weeks ago was perfect; the one they’d decided on just a few days after the nursery was finished and she had yet another bowl of frozen grapes to chow down on while they admired their work.

One for his mother, one for Emily.

“Ana Emilia Reid,”

–

taglists:

TROUBLE

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#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fic #emily prentiss x sister!reader #prentiss!reader #matthew gray gubler x reader #bugspence

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windyremedy · 2 months ago

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puppy pleads

pairing: bakugou katsuki x reader

scenario: realizing that katsuki does everything you want ft. my dad with the dog he said he didn’t want

Takeshi Bakugou compared to his other siblings listened to his parents the best. Not that the others don’t but by far he’s the quickest to respond doing whatever they asked, whether it be to go sleep on time or help sweep the floors. But one thing’s for certain and something he probably got from his father is that he’s unshaken when he sets his mind to something and that something he wants is a pet, a companion if you will.

But no matter how much times he asks and pleads they always seemed to tell him no. Well more specifically his dad refused, telling him that they’re too messy and require a lot of work. Takeshi understood that they probably couldn’t afford taking care of another living being especially since they had their hands full with his baby sister but c’mon he was feeling lonely. After his oldest brother left for U.A early and his other brother busy with presedential club duties things were just too quiet for his liking.

Don’t get things twisted though he didn’t feel left out with his parents. In fact he adores his baby sister and loves being an older brother after being the youngest for so long but can’t a boy just get another pal?

“Mom can you please convince dad to agree.” he begged as you sat there amused on a kitchen stool, feeding Asami a spoon of baby food.

“Love he tells me no too y’know.” you informed laughing slightly at his incredulous expression.

“Impossible!” he exclaims in total disbelief.

“It’s true, remember when he was on that one long month mission and you wanted to gonna sleep in our room because you missed your dad so much you wanted to sleep on his side of the bed because it smelled like him.”

“Yeah what about that time?” he asked skeptically.

“I asked him for a specific snack but it was already too late to get anything.” you replied wiping Asami’s messy mouth.

“But then he bought some coming home though, a few days after he got back he secretly ordered online and got them for you.” Takeshi pointed out with pinched eyebrows and a detective pout.

“Oh! I guess you’re right. Well there was also the time where I wanted to get another plushie for Asami but he said there was already too many.”

“Uh huh and he bought that too when you weren’t looking.” he confidently retorts.

“But….”

“Got you that too…”

“Also…”

“Surprised you…”

“That time…”

“Actually…”

And many more instances where you remembered Katsuki had told you no but actually in fact got what you wanted anyway.

“Okay! okay, maybe he doesn’t say no to me a lot.” you admitted, now realizing that fact.

“At all.” He corrected.

“Fine, I’ll ask your dad but I’m not promising anything kay? now can you please get more tissues before— wait Asami no!” you pried her little arms from trying to eat the food around her face with her palms.

“Kay!!” Takeshi smiled avoiding the messy onslaught and already looking like he just got what he wanted.

three months later

“Dad you can’t be giving Snowball too many snacks.” Takeshi laughed at the sight.

The small little puppy laying peacefully on the large hulking figure whose expression can send enemies running was a whiplash to see for sure. He had just gotten back from school and the new addition in to the family seemed to be fitting in perfectly. Takeshi knew just a couple weeks after his mom asked that his dad would give in.

“He wanted a treat, I can’t not give him a treat. What do you want me to do? not give him a treat? I have to give him a treat.”

“Okay dad.”

©windyremedy

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #remfics☁️

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bucketbueckers · 7 months ago

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MESS ME UP

pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader

wc: 6.1k

content warnings: language, abuse of italics, grammatically incorrect past tense flashback, smut robbery(?), pretty mature but nothing graphic

synopsis: Your friends invited you out to a frat party to celebrate the men’s team winning the NCAA tournament where you bump into Paige Bueckers, the girl who you're in love with and who you ghosted for a month after hooking up with her. A much-needed conversation at the party forces you to revisit difficult memories and give her the closure she’s been seeking.

notes: idk what this is! based loosely off of 'friends' and 'mess me up' by chase atlantic. unfortunately the smut robbery line is for real, like it's smut in the way lacroix tastes like real fruit (which is to say it's not smut, but like concepts of smut... 😝 (i've never had lacroix idk if this is accurate)) side note i hate writing in past tense but doing a traditional flashback scene is corny as hell! idk if it matters but this is set april 2024 (w/ a february 2024 flashback); doesn't really affect anything, so... anyway, second post on tumblr, lmk if we're rocking w it 🙂‍↕️

For the record, you didn’t want to come to this party.

It’s hot, sweaty, loud, and all you can smell is the same brand of men’s cologne and weed. The air is both stale and somehow feels wet and all you can think about is getting back to your apartment so you can shower and go to bed. You had a mock trial bright and early the next morning and your law professor was a stickler for punctuality and presentability – showing up with wrinkled clothes and smelling like a frat party was a sure-fire way to fail, and you had too much riding on your grades to let that happen.

The frat (whose name you’ve already forgotten) was celebrating the NCAA tournament win for the UCONN men’s basketball team. They’d apparently gone back to back, which you guess is cool, but you swore off basketball a long time ago. If you had your way, you’d be at home, three steps into your skincare routine, but you let peer pressure get the best of you and allowed your friends to drag you out.

It’d be fun, they said. You never come out with us! You’re spending all this tuition money and you’re not even taking advantage of it. How can you say you don’t like it if you’ve never tried it?

You only remember that your friends are law students, too, in the most unfortunate of moments when they put their persuasiveness to the test. In the most unfortunate of moments, you’re also reminded of the fact that they’re college students, too, because they’re leaving you at the door and rushing off to find something to drink. You weren’t upset they dragged you out. Not necessarily. You were grown enough to say no. Perhaps you’d simply set your expectations too high when they begged you to come out and you thought they would spend at least a little bit of time with you before doing their own thing. But sure. It’s whatever.

So, here you are – standing alone in the corner of a frat party, watching as drunk college students grind against each other, laugh, and have a good time. A part of you feels like you’re missing out, but as you watch somebody throw up into a plant, you feel like you’re just fine where you are.

You’re drawn from your thoughts when a man wearing a backwards cap suddenly shows up next to you. “Yo, you thirsty?” he yells over the music, thrusting a red solo cup into your empty hands. You don’t have the time to say anything to him before he’s grinning at you, eyes red and hooded. “Come dance with me. You’re too pretty to be standin’ here all alone.”

You hear her before you see her.

“She’s good, bro, trust,” Paige interrupts smoothly, throwing a casual arm around your shoulders. You feel too much like a damsel in distress, but sensing the gravity of the situation, you flash the guy a light smile and lean into Paige slightly. Her grip tightens. You try to not let it bother you.

He raises his hands, surrendering. “My bad. You got it.”

Paige hums, unconvinced, as he leaves. When he’s out of your sight, you wrench yourself out of her grip. “Thank you, but not necessary,” you tell her sharply, red solo cup still in your hand. If this was how your night was going to go, then you need to be a little tipsy to survive it. You barely have it halfway to your mouth before Paige is pulling it out of your grasp, pouring its contents into a potted plant and chucking the cup into a nearby trash can. “What the fu–”

“First of all,” she begins, arms crossing protectively, “never accept a drink at a party that you didn’t pour, didn’t see someone else pour, or a drink that’s already open; matter fact, don’t accept a drink unless you opened it or brought it in yourself.”

You roll your eyes slightly. “This is Storrs, Paige. Do the frats really get down like that here?”

Her gaze is unimpressed. “You’re the law student, ma, you tell me the numbers. Second of all, you’re welcome. That was Kylin. He doesn’t take no for an answer in the first place but he’s all kinds of fucked up right now. I’d say I did you a favor but I wanted to talk to you, anyway.”

“Funny,” you deadpan. “Here? Now?”

“What are you doing here?” she asks you, ignoring your snippy words. “Thought this wasn’t your scene.”

You pause. “It’s not,” you confirm. “Jos and Chelsea wanted me to come out. Figured I should be a good friend once in a while.”

Paige raises a brow. “Jos and Chelsea are too busy playing strip poker with dudes from Kappa Phi to keep an eye on you, and you’re worried about having to be a good friend?”

“First of all,” you say in the know-it-all tone that Paige had used on you, “I don’t need them to keep an eye on me.” The blonde hums again, not entirely convinced, and the heat of her gaze makes you stumble over your words slightly. “Second of all, why do you even care?”

“We’re friends,” she states.

“We were once,” you correct, voice softening. It’s no secret that you and Paige had fucked up whatever you had going on. It’s never been clear whose fault your fallout was (it was yours), nor could the two of you ever agree on what destroyed you (you would argue that you shouldn’t hook up with your friends, especially not the ones you were in love with). It was a messy situation that you were sure the two of you couldn’t recover from (you didn’t want to be friends with someone you couldn’t have; Paige just wants you to give her the chance to prove you otherwise).

“Sure,” she agrees half-heartedly, knowing your spiel by heart now. “Kinda fucked up you think I need a reason to care.” You don’t dignify that with a proper response, feeling something strangely like guilt corroding your heart. “Come outside and get some air with me? Please? Just wanna talk, no funny shit, I promise.”

You sigh, feeling yourself fall back into all too familiar routines. You had a near inability to say no to Paige most times – it was the reason why you had to put a stop to your friendship. And here you are now, undoing all of the progress you’ve made since you’ve been apart (a small part of you knows better; you’re moving forward but you’re not really doing any better. You’re not progressing. You’re just stuck now, only this time, you have less than you did before). “Jos and Chelsea–”

“–made their choice,” she finishes for you. “And their choice was strip poker with a guy named Anthony,” she adds solemnly. You can’t help but quirk a smile at the absurdity of your life right now. “C’mon, please? It fucking reeks in here. They’ve got a porch swing outside and it’s all quiet and shit.”

“You’ve always had a way with words,” you tease.

“You comin’ or nah?” she asks, but you shove her forward (she lets you) and she leads you through the crowd to the door. They part like the Red Sea and you can’t help but admire the way she silently commands the room, feeling a flutter in your chest you try desperately to stomp out. It’s like a fire; all it takes is a small spark before it eventually grows out of proportion. You know better now.

The door shuts behind the two of you and you sit on the porch swing. You can still hear the music’s pounding bass, but it’s muted. You feel like you can hear your thoughts now. The tension in your shoulders eases as you take in the crisp night air, the crickets’ chirps, the occasional owl’s hoot. For a moment, you forget all of the complicated history between you and Paige; the way she held your hand as she kissed up your thigh, the way she stayed afterwards, cleaning you up and bringing you water. It almost seems as Paige is reliving all of it, too, as she looks at you, and that thought is sobering enough to bring you back to the moment.

You finally get a good look at what she’s wearing. It’s nothing outstanding; a gray Nike tech suit and a pair of dunks, although she’s opted to leave her jacket unzipped, revealing the crop top underneath. She’s dressed for comfort, though the most unfair part of it all is how good she looks when she’s not trying. Her cheekbones are sharp, eyes blue and wide and alert, and you can’t help but notice how fitting a slick-back bun is on her.

This was precisely why you needed your space. You couldn’t control your thoughts or feelings. It was manageable when you minded your business – the phrase out of sight, out of mind did wonders for you and you were usually busy enough that she only crossed your mind once or twice a week when the student population was buzzing about a recent game. But now? Now you’re fucked. You’re inches away from her and you’ve allowed her to pull you back into her orbit. She’s the Earth and you’re a meteor – any closer and you won’t be able to come back from the damage you would do to each other. She would survive, you’re sure, but you’d be destroyed in the process.

“So,” she says slowly. You avert your eyes, staring at anything but her. “How you been?”

“Good,” you lie. “Keeping busy.” That part was less of a lie, but it wasn’t her business to know.

Paige has always been good at reading you, so she gazes at you like she’s not convinced. “I think we’re overdue a conversation,” she says, surprising you. “A real one. No more of this running in circles bullshit.”

“Okay,” you agree hesitantly. You finally meet her eyes. They’re strikingly blue, disarming, and you feel an odd mixture of guilt and longing eat away at your insides. She looks like she’s drinking you in, like she’s trying to understand why you did what you did; her eyes soften in the dim glow of the porchlight and you can’t help but flush under her gaze. She always understands you in spite of how often you push her away – she seems to understand why you keep her at arm’s length, too, and it’s then that you fully understand how overwhelming it is to be known.

“Why did you leave?” she asks finally. You have to swallow back the bile in your throat. “The morning after.” Her clarification does nothing to soothe the turmoil in your stomach. “I thought…” Paige’s throat bobs as she tries to find the words. “It wasn’t a hook up. It meant something to me – everything to me. So why did you leave like that shit ain’t matter to you?”

That night in February comes back to you in the blur of a memory. You’ve thought about it so often that you could write a play-by-play of it; every single unremarkable detail comes back to you in a flourish of vibrant color – the way the floor felt beneath your feet as Paige guided you into her room, the slight scratch of her nail against the base of your neck as her hands found purchase in your hair. Paige was wrong. It meant something to you, too much to you. You often remind yourself, if it meant that much, why was it easier to run away? Jumping off of a diving board into a pool conceptually means the same thing as jumping off of a cliffside into beach waves; the jump isn’t the hard part, it’s the reminder of the distance between your feet and the surface. Your feelings for Paige are too consuming. It’s easier to not make the jump at all than it is to worry if you’ll be able to come up for air.

She was in high spirits, drunk off of their win against Villanova. They weren’t an opponent you’d typically call home for, but the Huskies were having a tough season with several injured players and a lot of underclassmen. It was close, 67-46; Paige had contributed to a little less than half of their points overall with a solid 31. She was happy, the rest of her team was happy, and she’d begged you to come over to her apartment for the post-game festivities – which was usually games and snacks as they weren’t big on drinking during the season. You’d nearly refused at first. It was supposed to be a small team get-together and you had some work to catch up on. You eventually gave in, like you always do. Paige had flashed her typical, charming smile, looping an arm around your waist, and you were a goner.

The team accepted you like you were one of their own, too. That was new. You didn’t spend as much time with them as you did with Jos and Chelsea, but it felt like you knew them better than you knew Jos and Chelsea, anyway. Ice and KK were two menacing peas in a pod – they were like sisters separated at birth and whenever they were together, something chaotic was bound to happen, but they loved and protected fiercely despite the way they teased each other and the team. Caroline was like the team mother and many of the girls called her such. Nika was intense on the court, but off of it, she was Paige’s twin through and through – they always had something to say to each other and their banter often brought smiles to everyone’s faces. Azzi was sweet and well-loved by the team (and the student population in general). She introduced you to her and Paige’s son Ines, which confused you at first, but Paige threw her arm over your shoulder and assured you that they’re only co-parenting because Carol has enough children and they didn’t want Ines to be a ward of the court. You couldn’t help but smile at that, leaning into Paige – something about the team’s dynamic healed you a little, and Ines joked that Paige went out and got her a stepmom.

You felt the blush creep up your neck as Paige tightened her grip around you slightly. “I didn’t want you to find out like this, son,” Paige had said somberly, pretending to look sad as Azzi rolled her eyes. “Your mother was havin’ an affair–”

“Oh, bullshit!” Azzi cried. The entire room broke out into fits of giggles.

“Now I understand why Paige wifed up a lawyer,” KK said in between laughter. “Tryna get a discount on that divorce, huh?”

The team had tears in their eyes from their excitement – you didn’t have the heart to tell them you were hoping to specialize in civil litigation, so you just laughed along. The conversation continued to flow as games were played. Nika was exceptionally bad at UNO and Paige never let her hear the end of it. You guys only managed to play a couple of rounds before Nika suddenly got good and played a +4, prompting Ice and KK to stack +4s of their own onto it – Paige stared in disbelief for a solid thirty seconds before picking up 12 cards and rage-quitting one turn later when KK skipped her.

“There, there,” you’d said, lips trembling as you tried not to laugh at the look on Paige’s face. You rubbed her shoulder comfortingly, and she pushed you off her gently, her own lips quirking in amusement. “Show this card game who’s boss.”

“Bro,” she grumbled, but she couldn’t keep the smile off her face as she leaned back into the couch, her arm finding home over the back of your shoulders once more. You remember wondering if this is what normal felt like, what finally finding a community was like – you fit in too well with Paige’s teammates and they made you feel at home. Being near Paige made you feel at home. She was talented that way. She had an uncanny ability to make people feel at ease, regaling them with jokes and an endless supply of charm. When you realized you were in love with Paige Bueckers, you weren’t surprised about it. If anything, you might have been a little upset with yourself – you were sure you weren’t the only person she’d drawn in unintentionally, ensnared in a web whose latticework was meticulously shaped like basketball netting.

As the night went on, more and more laughs were shared until the clock reached midnight and many of Paige’s teammates got up to leave. Everyone shared hugs and affectionate goodnights. All of them even looped around to hug you – which was… nice. Paige shared her apartment with Azzi and Aubrey, so they retired to their own rooms after curious glances to you and Paige, still curled up together on the couch.

The apartment was quiet. You could hear the ring of silence as it enveloped the two of you, Paige’s gentle breathing, and the tick of the clock. It was oddly comforting; normally, it would have lulled you into a drowsy state, but you couldn’t focus on anything but the heat of Paige’s body next to yours, the brush of her thumb against your shoulder. Feeling both unmoored and tethered, you shift next to Paige, gathering her attention. “I should go,” you’d whispered. Her thumb halted.

“Stay,” she requested. She tilted her head. Her gaze met yours. You expected her eyes to be half-closed, dim with sleep. The rasp of her voice was attributed to a tone you knew she’d adopt when she was exhausted, but her eyes were wide, alert, dilated, a blue so dark you were sure you almost mistook the sheer want for something else. “Stay,” she murmured again. “Please.”

“Yeah,” you agreed almost breathlessly, feeling her hand squeeze your shoulder gently. “Sure.” She untangles from you and stands from the couch, offering you her hand, and you take it. She led you seamlessly through the dark of her apartment into her bedroom, where she released you long enough to rifle through her drawers, having found you a pair of shorts and an old t-shirt for you to wear to bed. Paige pointed you towards the bathroom. You changed into her clothes. Your fingers had shook with anticipation at the sheer domesticity of it all as you stared at your reflection in the mirror. Your – her – t-shirt read HOPKINS GIRLS BASKETBALL. It had all felt so different now. You hadn’t been sure at the moment if it terrified you or excited you.

You exited the bathroom to find Paige’s back to you, adjusting the band of a pair of basketball shorts around her hips. Her hair was out of her bun and it cascaded down her back in loose, wavy strands; you’d felt an inexplicable urge to run your fingers through it, to find out if her hair was as soft as it looked. She was wearing a dark black sports bra. The two of you were friends. Granted, you were in love with her, but the sight of her wearing nothing but ball shorts and her Nike bra shouldn’t have done the things it did to you.

“Which side is yours?” you’d asked, mostly to break the silence. You ignored the crack in your voice. Paige paid it no mind as she turned, which forced you to avert your eyes, trying not to glance at her abdominals.

“Don’t matter,” she responded. You watched the way she moved, sitting low on the bed, legs long and stark against the purple of her comfort. “You gettin’ in or what?” You hoped she couldn’t see the flush on your neck. You slid into bed next to her, hoping to maintain some sort of distance, but she refused to let you get too far. She slung her arm over your waist, fingers brushing against your skin where your shirt rode up. Her breath was even against your neck and the heat of her body nearly turned your brain into mush. “This okay?” she asked, tone softer.

“Mhm,” you hummed, afraid to speak or you might fuck up and tell her just how okay it actually was. Paige was just a touchy person, you tried to remind yourself as you felt the tickle of her hair against the nape of your neck. This doesn’t mean anything to her. It was all for naught. It did little to quell the way your heart raced, the way the heat pooled low in your belly.

“You looked good tonight,” she said casually. You tried to stop the goosebumps as they rose on your flesh. “You always do.”

Unable to think of something smart to say, you shifted your body slightly, your fingers splaying over the arm she held tight around your midsection. “Oh, yeah?” Her fingers brushed a little lower on your stomach, grazing the waistband of your shorts.

She hummed an affirmative, pulling you tighter against herself, and you could barely breathe. It was overwhelming in the best way – she was all around you. Physically, you felt as though you were in her skin as she greedily pulled you in. The scent of her was everywhere; the shampoo that seeped into her pillows, the cologne on her neck. Your hair stood on end as her lips brushed almost imperceptibly against the shell of your ear. “‘M glad you came,” she whispered.

You flipped on your side, face-to-face with Paige. Her arm moved enough for you to get situated and once you were, her hand found the small of your back, her palm warm against your skin. You can’t help the way your breath hitched, even as Paige’s eyes seemed to take in the stuttering rise and fall of your chest. Having found some courage, you poked her cheek, drawing her eyes back up to yours. “What are we doing?” you asked finally, feeling uncomfortably vulnerable. Her brow raised slightly, the dark blue of her gaze illuminated by the streaks of moonlight through her window. “No funny shit, Paige. You touch me like you want me, claim me in front of your friends.” You searched her eyes as she fell silent. “What are we doing?” you repeated, voice firmer.

“I want you,” she confessed after a few heartbeats of contemplation. She leaned in closer to you, your noses nearly brushing, and she continued, “I want you so fucking bad. Don’t wanna do anything you’ont want, but–”

Your lips were on hers before she had the chance to finish. She responded eagerly, one hand firm around your waist as she flipped the both of you over, pulling you to straddle her waist. You leaned down, your chest against hers, hands on each side of her neck. You felt the thundering of her pulse under your fingers. It was stabilizing in a sense – words were one thing, but to feel how badly you’d been able to affect her, too, did wonders for your growing ego. Paige’s hands had found your hips, keeping you pressed against her body.

You parted briefly to catch your breath. Paige’s chest heaved, her lips shiny and swollen. She was hard to look away from. For a moment, you’d wondered if this was worth it. Your heart had raced, beating uncontrollably; it felt like too much and not enough at the same time. Everything would change between the two of you. Was one night with Paige worth the risk of losing your friendship? You feel too strongly, too much, overwhelmingly. You’ve been told by an ex or two that you were simply too much. You wouldn’t want to subject Paige to that.

Her right hand met your face, tracing the line of your bottom lip. “You want this?” she asked. Her eyes were blown wide, more pupil than iris, but something about it entranced you. The desire in her eyes had brought fresh heat to your stomach, but coupled with the fact she’d be willing to stop made your heart beat a little faster. She was enough to quell your worries, settling the irregularity of your thoughts. You nodded, leaning down to connect your lips again, but her hand was insistent against your jaw as she held you back. “Words,” she commanded.

You’d barely resisted an eyeroll. “Yes, Paige,” you affirmed. Her hand loosened, eyes searching yours. “Want you.”

Her smile turned smug. “Yeah? How bad?”

The tease sent white-hot desire straight through your body as your hips rolled against hers, trying to find some relief. Her hands fall back down to your waist, helping you rut against her thigh as a shared flush creeped up both of your necks. “You gonna touch me?” you breathed against her lips. Her breath came out a disjointed stutter when you guided her hand to the swell of your ass. It was unnatural – Paige was so sure, so confident. To have her nearly at your mercy was like a drug through your veins, but you didn’t want her there. You wanted Paige fully in control; you wanted her to take care of you, to give you everything you’d fantasized about for months on end. You wanted her so bad it rewired the coding in your brain. There was something about her that broke down all of the walls you spent years building.

Your actions and words had been the only permission she needed. One of her hands gripped the flesh of your ass as the other one cupped the back of your neck. Her nail scratched you inadvertently as she dragged you back down to connect your lips – the slight echo of pain caused you to whine against her lips, a sound she swallowed greedily before she flipped the two of you over once more. Your head fell back against her pillows as she rucked up your shirt, finding that you’d opted to not wear a bra. She groaned indulgently, one large hand coming up to squeeze one of your breasts and her mouth finding the other one.

You ran your fingers through her hair, gripping it tight as she lavished you with attention. “So fuckin’ pretty,” she murmured against you, voice dripping with want. She pressed her knee against your core as she found her way back to your lips, kissing you deeply and drawing another whimper from your parted lips. It sent a jolt through your body. “You gon’ let me do what I want, huh? Get you right?”

“Paige, please,” you begged, all of the shame having left your body as you ground down against her knee, feeling the pleasure and relief simultaneously. “Fuck, do what you want, I don’t care – just please fucking touch me.”

She shushed you, lips back on yours, tongue brushing against your lips like she was trying to take whatever you’d give her. And at that point, you would have given her anything if it meant she’d stop teasing you. “I got you, ma, jus’ relax,” she whispered against your lips. She trailed a blazing path down your chest, leaving hickies as she went. Paige reached the waistband of your shorts; she pressed a sloppy kiss to your navel before bunching her fingers in and pulling them off, throwing them haphazardly into the room.

The air was cold against you. You were breathing heavily by then, eyes squeezed shut in anticipation. Her hand untwisted yours from the bedsheets, linking your fingers together, and that touch alone was enough to bring you back down to earth. “I got you,” she promised again, reminding you, pressing diligent kisses against the inside of your thigh. You relaxed ever so slightly against her, feeling as though you could breathe a little easier, but your body was still incredibly high strung. Paige squeezed your hand. Then her mouth was on you, and you were done for.

She held your hand as she went down on you, talking you through it until your orgasm reached its peak and you sunk into the bed bonelessly. She didn’t release you when she came back up, her smile a mix of smugness, pride, and quiet adoration. Paige kissed your knuckles, your cheeks, your lips, drawing a contented sigh out of you. “You good?” she asked, brushing your hair out of your eyes, hand cradling your jaw.

Exhausted, all you could do was hum an affirmative. Paige flashed a small smile again, pressing a kiss to your forehead and crawling off the bed, much to your surprise. “Lemme get you some water,” she said. “‘M coming right back, I promise.”

You nodded wordlessly, closing your eyes and sinking back into the pillows as your breathing evens out. She left her room, the door shutting with a silent click. In the silence of Paige’s bedroom, curled up in her purple comforter, all you can think about is how the future of your friendship has inexplicably changed forever. She said she wanted you. Did she just mean sexually? Paige was always intentional in her communication, a byproduct of her media training. Tears brimmed your eyes when you considered the idea that you might have just been another Wednesday night fling for her. Here you are again, feeling stupid about the overwhelming feelings you harbored for Paige despite your better judgment. The worst part was that it wasn’t her fault. You got your hopes up.

You wiped your eyes when you heard the door open again. Paige crossed the room, cracking open a cold bottle of water for you and pressing it to your lips. You nearly forgot about your inner turmoil when she smiled at you again, having thrown her hair back up into its bun. “Gonna clean you up, okay?” she informed you. At your nod, she runs a warm washcloth between your thighs, getting rid of the lingering stickiness. She carefully redressed you, squeezing your hips gently, and you’re left feeling so incredibly conflicted that you’re breathless with the anxiety. Paige disposed of the washcloth and curled up next to you in bed once more, an arm wrapping around your midsection. You’d told each other goodnight, but as her breath evens out against your neck, your mind races.

You slept fitfully through the night. And when morning light rolled around, you extracted yourself from Paige’s grip, sliding a pillow into her arms. The nervousness and all of your overthinking thoughts made you queasy with grief. You were in love with Paige Bueckers. That much was true. You were too head over heels for her to return to normalcy; you couldn’t. At that point, it would be easier for you to not be friends with her at all than to pretend like she wasn’t everything you’d ever wanted.

As she slept, you casted one last guilty look over your shoulder and you ran.

But that night in February has long since passed, and on the porch swing on a much warmer night in April, Paige stares at you in desperation, seeking answers to the questions you’ve withheld for over a month. “Why did you leave?” she asks you again. “Fuck, tell me the truth, lie to me, whatever, just please give me something to work with.”

“It was overwhelming,” you finally admit, twisting the rings on your fingers. You feel terrible as you glance at Paige, whose eyes soften when she takes in your expression.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I shoulda seen that something was wrong.”

You close your eyes, lips trembling. You’re touched at how she instantly takes responsibility for your fuck ups, thinking she’s done something wrong. “No, Paige,” you correct her. “Fuck. It wasn’t you. It was never you.” You pick at a loose string on your shorts. She stares at you, waiting for you to continue. “You were so gentle. That night meant everything to me, and that was the problem. I wanted you so bad – Jesus Christ, I was in love with you for months. I don’t do casual. I always feel too strongly and I loved you so much that it was fucking overwhelming. I woke up and nearly lost it because I couldn’t handle the idea of having you like that and having to pretend like I didn’t want you like that forever. It was so much easier to run and not face the possibility of having to be your friend when all I’ve wanted was more.”

When you finally look back to Paige, her eyes are wide with something that looks strangely like grief, like you’ve pulled the rug from under her feet and watched as she fell. As you think about it, that’s probably what you’ve done, anyway. She spent so long thinking that your fallout was her fault, that it was something she’d done, but the ugly truth of the matter was that you were too scared of the way you felt for her that you ran from it instead. Paige runs a frustrated hand over her jaw, her expression nearly unreadable. You frown. “I’m sorry,” you say quietly, knowing that your apology is long overdue. You fucked up so incredibly bad with her. Your brain remembers her prior words, the ‘It wasn’t a hook up. It meant something to me – everything to me,’ and you suddenly feel like an idiot. God, it was mutual this entire time and you were too caught up in yourself to realize it.

“You think too fucking much,” Paige says finally, and you hardly have the time to react before she’s kissing you, her hands gripping your hips. You nearly gasp against her lips before you fully register what’s happening. Sinking into it, you wrap your arms around her neck, feeling suddenly like everything is finally aligning, that all of your blurred focal points sharpen. When she pulls away, her eyes are alight with understanding. “So, lemme get this straight. You pushed me away ‘cause you’re in love with me, then we fucked, and you thought I wouldn’t wife you up?”

You frown, feeling stupid all over again. “Well, when you put it like that…yeah?”

Paige sighs. “Fuck. You’d send dudes to jail left and fucking right ‘cause you jump to conclusions too early. Thank God you’re not going into criminal defense.”

You shove her away from you, feeling the embarrassment bloom on your cheeks. You can’t help but laugh as you say, “You’re an asshole.”

She guffaws, reaching for your hands, intertwining your fingers. “Says you! You ghosted me for a month and let me think I fucked us up. Jesus Christ.” She twists the ring on your finger mindlessly as she searches for the right words. “Okay, lemme be really fucking clear. I’m in love with you, too. Like, I’m fuckin’ crazy about you. There is nobody but you. You aren’t too much for me – I love you for you, no ifs, ands, buts, whys, hows, nothing. I know you thought you were protecting us by pushin’ me away, but you gotta let me make that choice, too. I want this with you, alright? Will you gimme that chance?”

Her words leave the two of you in silence. You can still hear the chirp of the crickets, the thrumming from the party indoors. You can feel the way her thumb brushes over your knuckles, the way her eyes bore into yours, patiently waiting for your decision. But distinctly, you can see the plea, the desperation for you to just give into what she knows the both of you are feeling. Your anxiety and constant overthinking never ruined the two of you. It may have set you back, but you and Paige found your way back to each other. Maybe you’re not a meteor, dangerously crashing into her and disintegrating on impact. Maybe the two of you are something simpler – the moon and the tide. She was never going to let you get hurt if only you’d give her the opportunity to show you that.

So, you take that leap – whether it’s off the diving board into the pool or the cliffside into beach waves, you don’t care. You know now that Paige is waiting for you at the surface. “I want this, too,” you affirm, watching the smile bloom on her face like springtime flowers, and you seal the deal by pressing your lips to hers. She responds eagerly, her arms tight around you. You loathe that it took the two of you this long, that it was your fault for not trusting Paige with your heart when she’s given you no real reason to doubt her; despite this, her lips taste like forgiveness and yours like atonement. In spite of everything, you made it here in the end, and it was worth it.

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #paige x reader #uconn #uconn wbb #wbb x reader #ncaa wbb

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spatialwave · 5 months ago

Text

cooler, sweeter, hotter.

➸ pairing: nam-gyu x fem!reader ➸ word count: 2.6k ➸ tags: nsfw, smut, semi-public, dirty talk, rough, no protection, nam-gyu and reader are switches. ➸ notes: requests are temporarily open for squid game content! writing for nam-gyu, thanos and dae-ho! i have a few in my ask box that i'll get to soon :)

part 2 ->

You sat on your bunk, your eyes settled ahead at nothing in particular, as everyone around you began splitting off into teams after the conclusion of the recent vote. As someone with enough debt to make your parents disown you, you wore the blue circle on your jacket, though not so proudly.

You were selfish; you always had been.

That’s why you were sitting on your bunk and staring blankly as the time ticked away. Uncaring that just beyond the open floor of the dormitory sat dozens of players who missed their beds, homes and families—stuck there because of everyone who voted to stay.

You let out a sigh, hands moving between your crossed legs as the coursing sensation of desire washed through you. It was only human to feel such things, wasn’t it? It had been nearly three days since you were stuck in this hellhole and weeks since you’d felt the touch of another that was more than just someone gripping you for dear life.

You had a fool-proof plan, having watched the patterns of most players and noted when the bathroom would be at its quietest before it emptied for the night—an escape to break off from the dorm and hide away in a stall until you found release.

However, the sound of your name being whispered stirred you from your thoughts, blinking a few times as your gaze snapped to your left and landed on player 124. His name was on the tip of your tongue as your eyes connected with his, watching the way he crossed his arms on the side of your bed as he sat on the stairs next to it.

“Nam-su,” you muttered, cocking an eyebrow at him.

“Nam-gyu,” he corrected, irritation growing, but he stamped it down to earn your favour. After all, he was more perceptive than others gave him credit for, and he’d noticed the way you’d squeezed your thighs together when voting—when grabbing your meal. He was as needy as you.

You rolled your eyes, clicking your tongue. “What do you want? I’m trying to rest.”

He smirked; the fingers that poked out from the confines of his long sleeves tapped along your untouched bedding. Still firmly tucked in.

“You seem… frustrated,” his voice was low as he spoke, eyes staring up at you as they narrowed, “I am too.”

The remark sent a shiver up your spine, unsure if you should indulge in his words or brush him off. Perhaps it was a lucky guess at how you felt, or he was referring to something else—you had almost screwed up Gonggi when playing in the previous game, so it was fair to assume.

You sighed, turning your head away and looking across the dormitory where you saw others sitting and finishing up their food slowly. In particular, a young woman whose stomach was so bulged out that she appeared she’d give birth any second. Poor girl.

“Why? Is the game frightening you?” You asked, keeping your gaze ahead as you shifted. You couldn’t deny the ache between your legs, the desire that hoped he felt the same. He wasn’t exactly the type you’d go for back when life wasn’t a game, but you’d take what you could get.

“Not that kind of frustration,” he huffed, irritation bubbling. Ready to curse at you under his breath and give up if you pissed him off more… Well, he would’ve given up. He needed this—badly. “Don’t act. You know what I mean.”

Your eyes flickered to his, sparkling with curiosity. Slowly, you leaned your body on the head you placed over the bed between his arms and where you sat. Your fingernails gripped the bedsheet, and your mouth watered.

“What makes you think you could help me?” You murmured, testing him to see how far you could push his buttons.

“Because you’d have said no already.” He quipped, a tiny smile pulling the corners of his thin lips. Nam-gyu pulled back from the bed, tapping the surface with his hands like a drum as he looked around, “Talk later. Have to use the washroom.”

The hidden invitation sent molten fire into the pit of your stomach, watching as he pushed himself away and tucked his hands back into his sleeves. Without even glancing your way, he slowly walked towards the bathrooms where a few other players came out of—likely empty. Fuck, you really didn’t want to go into the men’s washroom.

Swallowing your pride, you waited a few minutes before sliding off your bed and descending the steps. You walked silently through the dormitory until you reached the hallways leading to the washroom, the first door guarded by two masked workers. As you walked further, you made it between two washrooms, male and female. You wondered for a moment which room he would’ve gone in, looking between them until you heard the sound of a stall shutting in the women’s.

Your feet carried you quickly, hungry for Nam-gyu’s touch, which you hoped was satisfying. At this point, the worst fuck ever would be the best.

Just as you entered the washroom, you quietly walked along the stalls to the left, eyeing up each door. Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you opened a few to no avail until the next door opened, and you were tugged into the stall by a tight hand on your unzipped sweater.

“Fuck,” you hissed, eyes landing on Nam-gyu as your back pressed against the now-closed stall door. Your cheeks flushed, breath heaving in your chest, “How’d you get in here?”

“Just walked in,” he answered, cornering you like a predator and prey. Surprising, considering that you hardly viewed him as the dominant type or at least someone who was capable of dominating you. “The guards don’t give a fuck, so I’m gonna’ roll with it.”

Your thighs spread, inviting his leg that pushed between yours and provided your aching cunt with necessary friction. It was instant the way you rolled against him, hesitant hands lifting to his zipped sweater and grabbing at the clothing that was too big for him.

“Shut up and fuck me, I don’t care about the guards.” You whimpered, grabbing at his neck and yanking him forward until his lips crashed against yours. He whined into your mouth, eyes falling shut as you both resorted to stifled whimpers and moans to communicate.

You rubbed your clothed pussy on his thigh, feeling the wetness soak through your underwear and tracksuit. Likely leaving a wet mark over his leg, he didn’t seem to care much. Two rough hands grabbed at your waist, pushing up the fabric of your sweater and shirt as his nails dug into your skin. You mewled into his mouth, hips moving quicker as the pressure against your heat built up your climax.

The sweater that hung around your body was pushed from your shoulders as he pushed his tongue between your lips. It danced with yours, devouring your moans as the shirt came next—parting the kiss so he could pull your shirt from your body. Nam-gyu leaned back, eyes landing on your exposed chest and focusing on your hardened nipples. A quiet growl rumbled in the back of his throat as he leaned down and captured one of the buds into his mouth, rolling it back and forth between his teeth as he sucked. His other hand grabbed at your neglected breast, massaging the globe as he whined pathetically as he sucked on you.

“You like my tits?” You asked him, your hips moving a steady rhythm against his tensed thigh.

He answered with a muffled sound of acknowledgment, eyes opened to peer up at you. It was then you saw the flicker of enjoyment. He liked you taking control.

“Mm,” you moaned, your hand lifting to his hair and brushing through the strands as you tilted your head back. You breathed out, bucking your hips, “Just like that. You’re so good—“

The praise did wonders as Nam-gyu continued to suck, furthering his touches by pushing his hand past the waistband of your pants. Fingers slipped underneath your panties, finding your wet folds and pushing through them as you shuddered. Your hand tightened in his hair, forcefully pulling him from your chest as he whimpered. Obediently looking up, lips slightly parted as he waited for you.

You rubbed your hips in tandem with his touch, his fingers brushing against your pussy and bumping against your throbbing clit every so often. It was too much, already feeling as though you were going to reach the peak if he kept up his ministrations, so you pushed him back until he crashed against the toilet.

You were quick to follow him, smirking at his wide-eyed expression as you wrestled his pants down his hips until his cock sprung free.

“Fuck,” he huffed, looking down as you stroked his length that felt nice and big in your hand—wondering how well it would fill you. You squeezed your hand, thumb wiping at the bead kd pre-cum at the tip as Nam-gyu brushed his hands back over his hair, eyes rolling back at a rather slow pump of your hand. “Don’t tease me.” He growled.

“Fine,” you smiled, licking over your teeth as you pulled your pants down your legs and kicked them to the side. Leaving your underwear on, Nam-gyu reached forward and tugged your hips until you

straddled him, the other hand pushing the fabric to the side.

A quiet gasp left your lips, hands landing on his shoulders to steady yourself as he easily guided your entrance to his cock. It was hot and wet against the tip, easily pushing inside you. Your thighs trembled, unable to keep yourself up as you buried your face into his neck, whimpering as his cock penetrated as he reached the hilt. You were right, and he filled you well—almost too much as your cunt stretched to fit him. Your fingernails dug into his shoulders over his shirt, his sweater hanging down his arms.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he whispered, his breath hot as he licked the shell of your ear, “Bet you like my cock, don’t you?”

The sudden dominance of his voice sent a shiver up your spine, but it hadn’t surprised you. If there was anything you knew about Nam-gyu, it was that he had one of the biggest egos ever—rivalling Thanos. You weren’t always one to indulge in inflating a man’s ego, preferring to take control into your own hands, but you couldn’t deny that in this moment, you’d do anything to get fucked well.

“I do,” you whispered against his neck, licking and biting at the skin as his hands grabbed at your hips. He lifted you up, angling himself better as he guided you back down as your ass slapped against his thighs, “Ah, shit—“

“So pretty,” he murmured, smiling as you began to fuck yourself on his cock without any of his help. Greedily pulling your hips up and slamming back down so he could fill your pussy up like you desperately needed, “fucking yourself on me like a good girl. Are you a good girl?”

You were forced to look at him, fingers digging into his shoulders as he grabbed at your chin and titled your face to look at him. He wore a lopsided smirk, his hair falling out from behind his ears as his body jerked with each rough slam of your hips. His right hand wrapped around the side of your neck, tight as you felt the cold ring around his middle finger touch your skin. His thumb pressed at the base of your throat, a painful pressure that made your walls clench tight around his cock.

You whined, “I am. I’m a good girl.”

Nam-guy’s lips stretched into a sly smile, his eyes shining in satisfaction as he pulled you forward and crashed your lips to his. He shoved his tongue into your mouth, moaning into it as his hands returned to your hips—nails digging into your skin. He met your hips with him, swallowing all your whimpers and whines as your cunt tightened, a hot pressure building in your low abdomen.

“Don’t come yet,” he groaned, licking at your lips before dragging his own over your jaw. He licked and nipped at your skin, his hot breath tickling your skin as he stretched you unbelievably thin. “Hold it for me.”

“Nam-su—“ you whined, hips twitching and thighs tensing as your juices left a mess between your bodies.

“Nam-gyu,” he warned, a hand reaching up into your hair and giving it a harsh tug that had you yelping in pain. He attacked your neck with his mouth and teeth, leaving a scattering of marks that you knew would leave bruises in its wake. “Fuck—I’m so close.” He choked on a moan, half-lidded eyes watching you as he pulled back and admitted the red marks over your skin.

When his grip loosened in your hair, you leaned forward and nuzzled your face back against his neck. Allowing him to take control as he fucked you at a relentless pace, the culmination of your moans echoing through the bathroom. You whined against his skin, reaching a hand between your bodies as you rubbed at your clit, desperately searching for your release.

Nam-gyu had begun panting your name under his breath, sounding like a pathetic, needy thing, but you didn’t have the energy to tell him so—both of you chasing after the high you craved.

With a few more harsh thrusts and circlings of your fingers, the tightness in your abdomen burst. A rush of euphoria crashed through your body, and you croaked out a loud moan that left your throat raw. Nam-gyu slammed into your heat a few more times, hands gripping at your hips so tight you wouldn’t be surprised if they left marks.

“Shit,” he hissed, a moan catching in his throat as he buried his face into your neck as he came. He hadn’t bothered pulling out, and you didn’t try to stop him as your pussy milked him—his hot cum filling you until it couldn’t anymore, and it spilled out, coating his cock.

There was a shared silence as you both caught your breath, clinging to each other as your releases went as quickly as they came. It left you with a feeling of relief but also with the gnawing reality that Nam-gyu likely wasn’t going to leave you alone after this. You noticed how he was attached to Se-mi after the race, angry when she didn’t give him the time of day. The thought annoyed you for a moment, wondering how persistent he would be for the remainder of the games.

But as you pulled back, watching the way he leaned back with his eyes closed and panting, jaw sharp and lips parted. You realized there were worse people out there who could be fighting for your attention—he was far more attractive than half of the guys you slept with, less so than the women.

Maybe you could convince Se-mi to buy you drinks after the games as a thank-you for getting him off of her back.

“Can we… do this again tomorrow?” Nam-gyu asked, his eyes still closed as his cock softened inside you. They cracked open just enough to get a look at you, straddling his hips, a tiny smile pulling at the corners of your lips.

“What makes you so sure we’ll both be here tomorrow?” You asked as your hands lifted to his sharp jaw, caressing either side gently.

Nam-gyu murmured, “I don’t lose.”

“Hm,” you hummed, your index finger tracing his bottom lip—sending a shiver up his spine, “I guess we’ll see if you can keep up.”

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