#you can’t see everything that someone thinks or feels or is going through

[luveline]

𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐟𝐚𝐮𝐥𝐭, 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 | 𝐚𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐞𝐫

When someone hurts you, you and Aaron both need time to get better, and to put things right. fem, 8k

cw canon typical violence, graphic scenes and imagery of assault/battery, recovery, mentions of being sick, issues eating. established relationship, lots of angst and comfort, hotch being vulnerable, jack being sweet 

˚‧꒰ა ✮ ໒꒱‧˚

You lay backward over the luxurious stretch of the couch and sigh as your spine gives a sharp crick. Your head feels heavy after a long shower, your arms ache from a day at work, but the feeling of soft cotton on your legs deters any moping. 

I hope these are more comfortable, his note read, a white post it note stuck to a boutique bag. You wrap an arm around your waist remembering how Aaron’s message had made you feel: spoiled, and considered. 

You’d mentioned in passing that all your pyjamas are old and rough as a consequence, thought nothing of it, and promptly forgot about the conversation entirely. 

When Aaron finally comes home tonight, you’re going to give him a proper thank you. You can imagine his reaction to such a thing, his smile as he says it’s no problem, his eyes shuttering closed as you press a kiss to his cheek. You hadn’t realised how prevalent affection would become in your life after meeting him, but everything he does inspires love. Awful, soft, marshmallowy love where he looks at you and you want to sit in his lap. 

You slide your phone up your chest lazily and click the button on the side to light the display. Aaron hasn’t claimed to know when he’ll be home tonight. All he’d said was to let yourself in. 

It’s odd but not the worst thing in the world to be alone in his apartment. There’s less and less free space each time you visit as Jack begins to outgrow his and his fathers lodgings, but there’s never a stain or bad smell, the Hotchner apartment feels homey. You’re excited whenever you’re invited to spend the night with them. 

Maybe some time soon he’ll ask you to move in, or better, to marry him. You’re not a hundred percent sure how you feel about marriage, about being someone’s wife, but there’s a great well of pleasure to be found in the idea that Aaron would want to marry you. He makes you feel loved already in a hundred different ways but the ring might be nice, like a symbol to signify how much you mean to him. 

You rest your hand across your eyes. It’s silly to think of. Sillier to want so soon. You’ve been together for just under a year, and you have no false hopes about rushing into the future, but it’s certainly a future you want with him (and with Jack, too). He’s taking things slowly for a hundred different reasons but he loves you, and gifts like your new pyjamas cement that. He really listens to you. 

Your phone rings a moment later. 

You smile at the screen. It’s nice to be in love with someone who loves you too. 

“Hey,” Aaron says when you answer, his voice warm even through the phone, “I didn’t think you’d answer.”

“How come?” You sit up with a little start. 

“It’s getting late, honey. I called Jess and Jack was already gone.” He doesn’t say anything further. 

“Are you okay?” 

“I wanted to hear your voice, I think.” 

“Well, where are you?” You struggle to envision him speaking saccharinely like this where his colleagues could hear him. He’s nice to you often, but he’s a reserved man. 

“I’m just,” —a crunching sound of metal, the trunk of his car closing— “about to get in the car. I’ll be home before ten. Can I have you until then?” 

“I don’t see any reason to say no. But do you think you could come home a little faster? I have a crick in my neck.” 

“And you want me to fix that?” 

“You always fix my neck.” 

“How have you done it?” There’s a sound you assume to be the car door closing, but you can’t hear anything beyond that. 

“I have bad posture.” 

“You have perfect posture.” 

“No, it’s quite bad.”

He laughs loudly. It took some time to draw the humour from him but he isn’t as stony as you’d think, and for a while he didn’t have much worth laughing for, anyways. Whenever you hear it, you try to prompt it twice. 

“You don’t have to lie to me, Aaron, it’s just like when you said my weird rash wasn’t weird.” 

He laughs again, to your pleasure. “It wasn’t weird, it was a heat rash, I promise. You act like you’ve never seen heat rash.” 

“One of us goes to hot cities all the time and one of us lives permanently in Virginia.” 

“What are you talking about? Virginia’s far from cold. You’re being argumentative, I can see your smile in my head. I’m never going to fix your crick if you keep acting like that.” 

“No, don’t be like that,” you laugh, tipping back into the cushions. “You’re always such a sore loser.” 

“What did I lose?” 

You can tell from his tone that you’ve promised yourself one of those hugs that borders on a straight jacket tightness, his face tucked into your neck as he asks you to repeat yourself. What did I lose? he’ll ask again, kissing your chin, the line of your jaw. Tell me clearly.  

“It hurts,” you say honestly, “please don’t be mad. I really need one.” 

“I’m not mad… I’m going under the overpass, my signal might cut out.” 

“Okie dokie. Hey, did you eat? I can make you something for when you get home. I got groceries.” 

“I’m not hungry, but you can make yourself hot cocoa, and I’ll drink it when I get there,” he says. 

“Or I could make us both some?” 

“It’s much more fun if I drink yours before you can, honey. You know that—”

You pause in the quiet, then hear a quick beeping. You pull your phone from your ear and find the call disconnected. 

Cruel overpass, you think. 

Sure he’ll call you back, you take your phone into his kitchen and set about finding all the things you’ll need for hot cocoa. One mug, because you should hate when he forces you to share, but you love the feeling of his fingers on yours as he takes it and the thankful kiss he dots on your cheek. 

The kettle is uncomplicated. You toy with the stovetop, set the kettle on the burner, and let the temperature rise. It begins whistling lightly a mere thirty seconds later. 

You click your phone on again. He’ll have passed through the tunnel now and will be calling you back any minute. You stare at the phone, hoping to summon him, slouched over the counter with the tin of cocoa powder by your fingers. The kettle whines with growing heat, but cool air kisses your back. 

Goosebumps rise. Up and down the lengths of your arms, the back of your neck—

A sudden chill. 

The lack of air comes before the hand, the pain a rush, a burst to be away from. Leather on your neck creaking without sympathy as a hand tightens and drags your body back against something hard. 

Not Aaron. Your scream comes strangled under cruel fingers as you fight to move forward again, straight for the burner, the kettle shoved across the burner grate and exploding with scalding water, heat of the burner kissing your chest— you scream, only it’s worse than a scream, sound from the deepest part of you forcing itself past the heat at your neck as you try to fling yourself away from the pain. 

You fall with a hard clout. “Stay still!” comes out enraged against the back of your neck. You drop to your knees, the pain lighting flaring up your chest, your gaze frantic as you search for a flame that isn’t there. You’re not on fire, you’re crawling and then scampering up into a standing position when the heavy weight drops itself on you again and smashes your face into the floor. 

All your fight leaves you. Your ears ring. Your panic wanes but the pain stays alert in your mouth. 

A hand grabs you by the back of the head and drives your face into the ground. It’s like light in your eyes and your nose, the brunt of it, the crack of your bone and the hot trickle of blood that swiftly follows. You gurgle in pain, spluttering and gagging against the linoleum, waiting for Aaron to turn you over and say sorry. It’s an accident.

Blood drains from your nose in spurts to match your racing pulse, so much blood you can see your eyes reflected in the dark stretch of it. Water drips down the front of the stove, your breath aches and begs, and your attacker takes a measured breath. 

He flips you over. You can’t slide away, there’s nothing left in you, your head a second body as he raises something. 

Your phone rings on the counter. 

“Please, don’t,” you plead with a sob.

You pass out as the pain connects. Just as quickly as it started, your body takes the reins. 

—

There’s a strange darkness waiting for you. Like waking before your alarm and stealing those last minutes, body aching, not wanting to get up and face the day. Aaron gets up early every morning, sometimes as early as four AM, and whenever you get up with him your eyes hurt for hours. 

Nothing, nothing, nothing. 

Hey, hey, I think your boyfriend’s coming.

What will he make of my handiwork?

You didn’t stay awake long enough for that one, did you? But you’re waking up now.

The pain is enough to wake you up again, a hot drag down the side of you to your hip and in. You aren’t aware of the sounds you make, but you can hear them. Your panicked squealing as the heat presses further and further in. Your crying, and your whispering, “Stop, stop.” 

“There’s handsome,” the dark voice says. “I’ve gotta go hide somewhere, does he carry after hours? I think I’ll find out.” 

“Oh,” you say, feeling sickly. You attempt to curl into yourself, when did you turn onto your back? “No,” you mumble, lips wet with something hot. 

“Honey?” a voice asks. 

“Honey,” you repeat, woozy again, darkness falling in all over again, where it stays. 

Honey, are you in here?

—

The window behind Aaron’s shoulder is cold. Rain patters fast like floods, thunder occasionally chewing through clouds, and Jack Hotchner cries sluggish tears into his dad’s shoulder. 

Aaron has his eyes closed. They’ve been at this for a while. “Shh, shh shh, buddy,” he says softly, patting the bottom of Jack’s back. He’d sway him back and forth if his arms weren’t about to fall off. 

Jack squirms closer, no room left between them. 

“I know it’s scary,” Aaron says. 

Jack just cries. This approach of quiet support isn’t working; Jack isn’t a baby that needs to be put to sleep, he’s a panicking little kid, and Aaron needs to change gears. He ushers him away from his chest and crosses his arm behind Jack’s back. Careful, he shifts Jack’s weight to free his other arm and brings his fingers up to the silky brown hair dropping onto Jack’s forehead. 

“She’s okay,” Aaron says, stroking Jack’s hair. His little forehead is clammy. “She’s not hurting. I know it looks scary, honey, but… she’s just resting.” 

Jack looks him in the eyes. “Her face.” 

“I know.” He nods emphatically. “It’s hard to see. Blood isn’t nice. You don’t have to see her again today, not if it’s too scary.” 

Jack lifts a hand to Aaron’s face. Clumsy but with clear attempts to be careful, he wipes at the skin under Aaron’s eye. Aaron bites back a smile. 

“I look tired,” he says. 

“Yeah.” Jack brings his hand back to wipe his eyes. He sobs as he does it. Aaron can’t describe the ache it gives him to see it. 

“Buddy, I’ll do it. Let me wipe your face. I can do it.” 

Jack drops his hands. Aaron turns his hand and wipes the smudge of Jack’s tears from hot cheeks, testing the waters with a little smile. 

“I couldn’t see you under all those tears.” 

Jack does a little smile back. “Yes you can.” 

“I couldn’t! But now I’ve wiped all your face I can see you again. You’re handsome, did we know that?” 

Jack giggles. He sniffles, and he presses his palm to Aaron’s neck. “I don’t want her to be sad, dad.” 

“She’s going to be sad, because something scary happened, but it’s okay. I’m gonna take care of her.” 

Aaron would offer to take him home, but they can’t go home. They may not go home for a long time —the team is still trying to work out how someone made it into the apartment without alerting the building’s security or Aaron’s internal system. And then escaped again without Aaron’s notice. Until then, Aaron has to make a decision about a safe house, for himself, Jack, and Jess, though she's extremely unreceptive to the idea. 

Aaron has to look after Jack, and he needs to take care of you. 

“What do you think, bud?” he asks, cupping Jack’s head in his hand. “Do you want to go home?” 

“You said I can give her a hug.” 

“If it’s too scary, we don’t have to. I don’t want you to get upset again.” 

“I’m not scared. I want to give her the hug,” he says. 

Aaron pulls him in for a hug of his own. “Okay, buddy. Just try to think of it like this. She’s where she needs to be to get better. Everybody here is looking after her. She’ll be okay soon.” 

Aaron looks over Jack’s head down the hospital hallway. It’s a quiet ward, and here between the main ward doors and the hallway that leads down to the individual rooms there’s complete silence. Night is approaching quickly again, and with it comes Aaron’s panic. Your head turned into a puddle, your face lax of expression in the dark. He can’t stop finding the women he loves bloody and on their backs. 

“Ready?” he murmurs. “Can you walk with me? My arms are tired.”

“Yeah.” 

Aaron puts Jack down gently onto his feet. He neatens his hair, chucking him under the chin as he goes to see his smile. He’s so pretty, like Haley was, with shiny eyes. He’s a beautiful kid. Aaron takes his hand and together they make their way down the hallway to your room. 

You’re sleeping. 

Aaron herds Jack through the door and to the plastic covered chair by your side, where he lifts him up and sits him down. He stays between you both. Jack isn’t scared of you, just the blood, but he wants to show Jack that he’s going to protect him from anything he needs protecting from. He also desperately wants to touch you, and reassure himself that you’re still breathing. 

He looks for your hand. Your pinky finger is splinted, but he can take it with care, give the palm of it a squeeze. 

The blood matted in your hair has finally been washed away after a turbulent day, as well as the staining that marred your face. Your nose is broken, and looks it, the bruises so fierce your eyes have turned puffy and your top lip has inflamed. There are second degree burns in multiple places but most affectedly on your chest. There’s a stab wound at your hip, allegedly done with a small blade. It nicked your small intestine. The bandages laid over you are a lump under your hospital gown. 

Aaron looks at you, and he feels a passionate disdain for himself. He wishes he could… be someone else. Someone who doesn’t have such a deep connection to a job that hurts the people around him, over and over. Haley used to say he was obsessed with being the hero, but this doesn’t feel heroic. 

“Do you wanna give her your cuddle?” he asks softly. 

Jack stays sitting. 

He’ll have to give it to you himself. Careful, Aaron leans down over your prone body and presses a half kiss to your ear, the only place that won’t hurt. 

You have an IV drip going into your arm, painkillers, an ECG monitor to the left. The room is white but busy, you’re a burst of colour against it all, your cuts and bruises, the evidence of violence he can’t remove. Aaron’s tired. He perches on the gap of bed by your leg and holds your hand, turning to Jack, who watches with a frown. 

“She’s sleeping,” Aaron says. 

“When can she come home?” 

“In a few days.” He feels the pad of your hand, terrified of your broken finger but needing to hold a part of you. 

“Why is she sleeping all day?” 

Traumatic experiences are exhausting. “I think she might want to be alone, so she sleeps.” 

“Should we go?” 

Aaron shakes his head. “I think we should stay. When she wakes up again she’ll be happy to see us, because we’re not strangers.” 

“We’re family,” Jack says. He’d liked that, when the nurse asked you how Aaron was related to you. Family only.

“We’re her family,” Aaron agrees. 

If he somehow miraculously fell out of love with you, you’d still be family to them. You’ve given so much of your heart since you met them. Aaron wants everything you have to give. 

You wake in a slow, slow upheaval. It takes effort on your part, the opening of sore eyes, the dreary decision to face your pain. Your hand jumps in his but relaxes when he shushes you, your slimmer fingers stilling under his rubbing thumb. For a split second, you keep your gaze half-lidded, jaw soft, like you’ve been indulging in a stolen nap. 

Then your breath catches and you screw your eyes tightly. 

“You’re okay,” he says, quietly, and not as lightly as he means to, “you’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay,” in quick succession. 

“Hurts,” you say, and gasp, a whine stuck in your throat. 

He doesn’t know what to do. Jack shouldn’t watch this but he can’t leave you alone. “It’s okay,” he says, holding your wrist to stop it climbing up your bruised face. 

You were worse the first time you woke up. Catatonic, then sobbing. You mumble and whimper now, pain threading goosebumps down your arms. 

“It hurts too much,” you say. A sob falls out of you like you’ve been ripped open. 

Aaron doesn’t think, but an instinct sparks. The pain, to hit you right out of the gate like this, to make you say something like that when you’ve always always made your problems small, must be torture. It must feel new and sudden all over again. 

Aaron checks that Jack is alright and leaves the room. He looks down one hallway and then the other, but there’s no nurse around —he races to the reception desk and begs the two nurses there for help with you, “She’s in intense pain,” he says, grasping the desk. 

The nurse he’s more familiar with clears her throat. “Mr. Hotchner, she’s already had enough motrin for two people at your request, she really shouldn’t need–”

“Pain is just as important to treat as the injury.” 

A second nurse puts her salad down with raised brows. “Do you want to overdose her?” 

“Excuse me?” 

Aaron has always seen himself as a gentleman, but the argument that ensues is tricky to navigate while remaining respectful, and he’s no closer to better treatment for you by the end of it. He gives each nurse a disapproving glower and takes his phone from his pocket, turning on the spot, ready to call whoever it is he needs to call for a second opinion. He’s not gonna listen to you cry when there’s no need. 

He pushes the door open with the phone still clutched in his other hand. Jack’s climbed onto your bed. He cuddles your face, sitting by your pillows and bent over you protectively. 

Aaron lets out a breath. 

“It’s okay,” he says, his arm behind your head and his arm on your shoulder. “W’gonna take care of you.” 

“I know,” you say, crying without sound, shaking under his arms.

His cheek smushes against your forehead. Your eyes are closed and your face braced for contact Jack doesn’t make, careful not to hurt you as he rubs his cheek into your skin. Your blankets are falling off of you from the squirming and your bruises shine with tears in the light, but Jack has calmed you down some. 

Aaron shouldn’t have left Jack with you. He’s been so scatterbrained since he found you when he should be the opposite, but Jack is doing better than Aaron managed alone. 

“I’m sorry for crying,” you say slowly. “I’m hurting, but it’s not bad. I’m okay.” 

“That’s good. You have a big scratch on your face, and bruises.” 

“I know.” 

“Dad says you have a bruise on your tummy too.” 

“I got lots of bruises, but it’s okay. Don’t worry about me.” You bring your hand up injured and uncaring to rub his leg. “You’re being a really brave boy, thank you.” 

A tear rolls down your cheek. 

“It’s teamwork,” Jack says. “I hug you and you hug me.” 

“Is that what you want? You want a hug?” 

“I want to go home,” he says, hugging you harder. 

You grasp his arm loosely where it’s just under your chin. “Jack, can you move your arm?” you whisper. 

Your breath comes quickly, but Jack moves his arm away from your bruised neck and you try to calm yourself down. 

Aaron jolts himself back into action. “Sweetheart,” he says, rushing to sit Jack back and give you more space. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine.” 

He watches. Not sure what to say. Not sure saying anything is wise. You squint at him through your lashes, eyes opening slowly, your mouth a line pressed hard to stop from crying. 

“I think it's time for Jack to go home,” he suggests gently. 

“Yeah,” you say, eyes swimming with tears. 

“No.” Jack squeezes your head again, to your panic. 

“Jack, buddy, please don’t touch her neck,” Aaron says, grabbing Jack from your pillow. 

He erupts into tears again. Frantic and vying for you, Aaron tries to calm him and he kicks against his chest, tears turning to disgruntled sobs at not getting what he wants. You wince, pressing your face completely into the pillow. 

Aaron carries Jack from your room, phone in hand. 

—

Is she breathing? Can she talk? 

I don’t– I don’t know, I don’t– She’s breathing. Honey, can you hear me? I don’t know what to stop. I don’t know where it’s all coming from. 

Where’s the worst of the blood? 

It’s everywhere. 

Abdominal? Chest? 

I can’t tell. I can’t tell. 

Mr. Hotchner, you can’t panic. Does she have a chest wound?

Yes. Yes, but– 

Is she conscious? How’s her pulse? Be ready to start chest compressions. 

Honey, can you hear me? 

Your name said clearly. 

“Hey, can you hear me?” 

“Yes,” you murmur. 

“If you need a minute, that’s okay.” 

You cover your mouth with your hand. Emily Prentiss has a soft voice like your boyfriend’s when she wants to have it. She’s never spoken to you like this, none of his colleagues have, but since the incident, everybody treats you like you’re made of glass. 

Cognitive interviews are meant to happen immediately after an accident, but you weren’t up for company. Aaron promised this would be on your terms, that Emily is the most practised, and that she’s reaped the most information from them than the rest of the team. So far, it’s worked to drag bad memories to the surface. 

“Maybe we should start from the beginning.” 

There isn’t a beginning. There’s just conversation. Aaron’s hand on your heart and his shaky voice, so unlike him.

“Okay.” 

Emily reaches for your hand. She smiles, and her nice features get nicer. That’s another thing they all share, good looks. “Okay. What did you notice, in the kitchen? It’ll help if you close your eyes,” she reminds you. 

You close your eyes. 

“What stuck out?” 

“Nothing,” you murmur. “I’ve been in there lots of times, and nothing ever changes.” 

“Nothing? Not even the drawings on the fridge?” 

“Jack’s particular about his best work, even if I think they should all be on display.” 

Emily’s voice turns to a shard of itself. “What did you do? Can you take me through it step by step? Make yourself a cup of hot chocolate.” 

“I never got that far.”

“What did you do?” 

“I filled the kettle.” 

“What kettle?” 

You don’t understand the need for specificity, but you answer. “Aaron got it for me, when he… he told me he loved me, and when we got home he’d bought me a kettle and a bunch of stuff to make my being there easier. The kettle, because… he said something about superheated water. How the microwave can be dangerous, and this would be easier than a pan.” 

“Alright. Okay, and what did you do after that?” 

“I put the kettle on the stove.” You lit the burner, and heat kissed your palm, and suddenly the room had felt cold. “I got goosebumps.” 

“When?” 

“The kettle started to whistle, and it was cold.”

“And then–”

“Then he grabbed me.” 

“Yeah,” Emily says softly. 

You touch your nose. “I tried… He didn’t feel like a person. He didn’t feel like someone I was fighting, it was just painful.” 

“Like he was quick on his feet?” 

“He was silent. I didn’t hear him until I made him fall.” 

“How big did he feel?” 

Your stomach churns. Big. He’d felt big. 

Where’s the worst of the blood?

“He said he was going to hide,” you remember. 

“He said that? He said ‘hide’?

“Yeah. And he asked me if Aaron carries after hours.” 

“When was this?” 

It’s a headache. You try to remember more, because that’s what they need right now. If you ever want to go home, if you want Jack to go home, you need to remember more. The BAU are good, but nobody can make a map out of slivers. 

“That was at the end,” you say. 

“After he stabbed you?” 

You wince. “Yes. After.” 

“You’re doing so good,” she praises, “I just want to fill in the gaps.” 

“I can’t remember. I was unconscious.” 

“When Hotch found you?” 

“No, before.”

“Before?” she asks. 

You’re sick of sitting there with your eyes closed. Sick of your hands shaking with nowhere to hide them, and sick of feeling sick, your nausea as present as the stinging pain of your burned wrist against your sleeve each time you move. 

You open your eyes and look around the conference room for something interesting. How nice would it be to think of something else for a few minutes?

“He called it handiwork when he cut me. Asked if I thought Aaron would like it,” you say, bordering monotonous as your gaze fizzles, unfocused, across the room. 

“Okay, Y/N. Okay. I know you’re tired.” She reaches for your hands to squeeze at the same time. “You did really well. Any details at all are details we can use to find him.” 

You’re not in the mood for talking anymore. Tears burn your eyes, waiting for a blink to set them loose. 

“I want to see Aaron,” you confess quietly. 

“I’ll find him for you.” Emily stands but bends, the dark of her hair a contrast to her pale face. She’s lovely, and her hand is gentle on yours. “Are you okay? Can I get you something to eat?” 

So Aaron’s not keeping that to himself. “I want to see him, please.” 

“Yeah. Okay.” 

This is a horrible room. It’s not their fault, but the big white board is tacked with bad photos of grisly cases —currently your own. You stare at a photograph of your blood in the kitchen and don’t know what to do. Should you look away? You hadn’t realised you bled so much. 

You turn your chair toward the door. Emily looks back as she leaves and smiles at you softly, but your eyes are already moving to the smaller dry erase board by the doorway. It’s ‘Hotch’s turn to clean up on Thursdays. How strange that they make the boss clean the conference room. 

You can picture him picking up coffee cups and wiping down the table. You can always picture Aaron. 

You can see him hovering over you, his hand pressed to the bloody mess of your hip to stop the blood. 

“It’s okay,” you whisper to yourself, wanting to break from the memory, following Aaron’s example. “It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay.” You repeat it into your hands, head tilting down. You sink until your knuckles touch your knees. 

That’s all he says when you panic. He’ll say it over and over again until you can breathe right. I have you, I have you, you’re okay. 

He’s much quieter this time. You hear his footsteps, his familiar gait, your head pounding too hard to move. Aaron makes a sound between a sigh and a hum, like he’s saying a sorry hello as he kneels in front of you. His hand takes your face, rubs softly over your ear. 

“My head’s just hurting,” you murmur. 

He doesn’t respond. You sit together for some time as your mind races with bad memories, your fear a rush of goosebumps down the lengths of your arms and thighs. It’s hard not to think about what happened, mostly because you’re still a walking bruise, your stitches sting when you move, the blisters on your chest ache, all of it inescapable. But it’s your anxiety that plagues you most. You’re in a constant state of dread. 

You had no idea someone could hurt you as badly as they had until it happened, and now you’re desperate not to be hurt again. 

“You have to look after me,” you say eventually, throat sore with how awful it feels to say. 

“Yes, I do.” 

“Please don’t let me get hurt again.” 

Total silence. You sniffle at his lack of an answer, only slightly comforted by his hands at your wrists now, pulling them from your face. “Let’s sit up,” he says, standing himself. “Come on, let’s sit up. You shouldn’t be putting so much pressure on your abdomen.” 

You lean back and everything aches like a stretch after a long run or a bad night’s sleep. 

Aaron pulls a chair next to yours. When he sits, your knees are pressed in between one another’s thighs, so close he could hug you. You might need one.  He’s given you a ridiculous amount of them each day, some for him and some for you. 

He has with him a takeout box and a bottle of water. 

“Here,” he says, popping the seal of the drink. “Three sips.” 

You feel like crying, but you drink. He opens the takeout box to reveal a normal looking sandwich already cut into two halves, but he takes a plastic knife from his pocket, peels away the wrapping, and cuts the sandwich again into quarters. 

“I’m gonna be sick,” you say. 

“No, you’re not. You won’t be.” He presses the sandwich flat with his hands and holds it to you until you take it. “Please, Y/N. You only have to eat what you can.” 

“I don’t want it.” 

“Please.” 

“Did Emily tell you about my interview?” 

He reaches for your thigh. Mildly unlike him when you aren’t at home. You assume it to be a tether for your sake. “No. Is there something you think I should know?” 

“I don’t want to say it again.” 

“Then you don’t have to. Someone will tell me when I get back.” 

You pinch the fluffy bread in your hands, eyeing wearily at the wet insides. “Can I come with you?” 

“You’re having trouble in the cognitive interviews, you won’t want to hear what we have to say.” 

You split the sandwich in half again, watching as salad and mayonnaise ooze from the bread. 

“If you don’t eat, you won’t get better,” he says, a touch stern. 

“I can’t eat when you won’t let me come with you.” 

“I’m not the only person capable of protecting you. I…” He circles your wrist before you can make a mess. “Can you please eat it?” 

You take a bite to appease him, your stomach roiling, food wet and cold on your tongue. You eat the whole quarter queasily, a lump at the back of your throat begging you to stop. 

Aaron takes an empty hand and rubs it tenderly. “Thank you,” he says, that rubbing turned more forceful, his hand journeying to your elbow and back again. 

It’s sweet how attuned he is to your needing his touch, but mortifying. This entire experience had been embarrassing from start to end. Couldn’t defend yourself, can’t get to grips with it, and can’t keep anything down. Aaron looks at you and your bruises and you wonder if he’s seeing you with blood matted in your hair, or hearing you beg for him to get you something stronger. All you’d wanted was a sedative. 

“I’m far from the only person capable of protecting you,” he says. 

“You saved me,” you say. You mean it in every sense of the world. 

“…This is my fault.” 

“I want to be with you,” you say honestly. “I don’t feel okay by myself right now, I just need you, or I feel so sick I wish that I died.” The anxiety is marrow deep. 

Aaron looks gutted. “Don’t say that.” His hand goes back to yours, back to tenderness. “I know you're scared.” 

“Then why won’t you listen?” you ask weakly. 

“I’m listening to you,” he says, his tone a dulcet, pleasing softness you’ve never ever heard before, “I need you to be safe, and I need Jack to be safe, and I can’t do that while he’s still out there.” His brows pinch together, agonised. “I’m sorry you’re scared. I didn’t protect you. But I won’t let anything happen to you again.

“I love you. Please believe that I’m doing what’s best for you right now.” 

You turn your head away. He cups your cheek regardless. 

“I love you,” he says again. 

“I know.” 

“No, I love you.” 

He’s saying sorry.

“I love you,” you mumble back. 

“How are you feeling? Is anything hurting more? Weeping?” 

Your eyes are heavy at his touch. “You only looked at me a couple of hours ago.” 

“Alright. Can I kiss you? I need to go.” 

You don’t answer. Aaron kisses your chin, your jawline, the type of roving, teasing kisses he’d give as he squeezed your sides, only he doesn’t squeeze you, he can’t without hurting you. His hand hesitates just above your deepest wound. 

His bright kiss works to spark a modicum of life back into you. Not a lot, but enough. It was likely his intention, some quick prodding kisses to remind you of something happy between you both. 

You curl your fingers over his hand and turn your face for a chaste peck. He smiles, the curve of his lips evident and relieving against yours. 

“Someone will take you back to the safe house, okay? Give Jack a kiss for me,” he says. 

You nod. Aaron strokes your cheek. 

—

Your assailant could have killed you while you were vulnerable, but he didn’t. “He assumes he’ll have another chance,” Emily surmises. 

“That’s cocky,” JJ mutters. 

“It’s telling,” Aaron says. “But he won’t.” 

The coaching has been extensive. You, sick, a breath from tears and hurting, your shoulders in his hands and his grip too tight. If someone tells you I’m dead, you wait. If Morgan tells you I’m dead, you ask Rossi. If he says I’m dead, you ask Emily. You can’t believe the first thing someone says. No one is going to move you from this safe house to another without seeing me first. If I do get hurt, you and Jack will be moved separately. You will always get my confirmation before you’re moved. 

I’m not gullible, you’d said, wincing at his sharp tone. 

It’s not about that. People will lie, and they will lie well. They will talk their way into the house if you let them. You can’t let them. 

I won’t. 

He’s racing against a countdown, because no matter what he says, what you know, or how many agents wait outside your house, sometimes it’s a force of will. 

Foyet didn’t need much more than that. 

He admittedly feels on surer footing knowing where you are. The decision to guard you without putting you in WITSEC is aching and scary but better, too. He knows where you are. He can be there in ten minutes. No guessing games, but no hiding for you either. 

Your dread is taking over everything you do. Today’s the first day since you came home almost two weeks ago that you could function without a live-in nurse or Jess there to look after Jack, and already he’s worried, because he’d convinced you total honesty was what’s best for the both of you, and so your texts are candid. 

One an hour for his sake, more if you're up to it.

Threw up my beta blockers. Jack misses you, he wants to make you a Lego boat and fishing rod, but I’m not sure how to do it. Please make sure you eat dinner. 

Your next message makes him smile, thankfully. I’m kidding about the dinner thing. Ha. I had one of those gels you got for me, and Jack wants fries, so I’m making waffle fries. 

He texts back quickly. Eat dinner. Please tell Jack I miss him too, and don’t worry about the boat, he’ll work it out. Then, feeling awful, he adds, I love you

Aaron should go home. He’d feel better if he knew he was there to help you keep your medication down, but if he leaves… He knows his team will give you everything they have, but he has more. He can fix this. 

He can’t fix this, god, his head hurts badly. You’re covered in cuts and bruises and burns and he thinks he can make up for that? You’ve been brutalised. Aaron can’t believe this is happening again. 

He rubs his brow. 

“You okay?” Emily asks. 

When he looks up, JJ is gone. 

“I’m fine.” 

“It��s okay if you’re not.” 

He’s not fine, but he knows what she’s asking. “I’m okay enough to do this,” he says. 

It’s hard not to confuse you with memory, your hurting similar to his own, your situation one that he’s already lived. Haley will haunt him for life. It doesn’t usually feel as punishing as he fears he deserves: he gets to remember the best parts of her everyday. He sees her in Jack all the time. He sees her in you, occasionally —you’ll touch his hair or rub his arm like she would’ve done, and it doesn’t make him miss her any more than he does, he’s not in the business of wishing you weren’t yourself, he loves you, but he remembers her. Aaron remembers how he failed her every day. 

He can’t fail you, too. 

“Is it ever easy?” Emily asks. 

Aaron looks around for a bottle of water. “Is what?” 

“Being in love.” 

He thinks about it. “I must make it look hard.” 

She laughs softly. “Sometimes, yeah.” 

Maybe that’s not fair, then, to you. For him to make it seem difficult to love you. To fail to correct Emily when she asks. 

He chooses his words carefully. “Loving her is the easiest thing in the world. But… I continue to work a job I know makes me hard to love in return.” And that puts you in danger. 

It doesn’t feel wrong to be sincere. Perhaps it’s easier with Emily. She saw so much of him during Foyet, and she’s family, truly. He can tell her how intense it’s felt. 

“Well, it doesn’t seem hard for her,” Emily says. 

He shakes his head. 

She continues regardless, “Even during her cognitive, she mentioned the first time you told her you loved her. When it was over she wanted to see you over anything else.” 

But I put her here, he wants to say. Or doesn’t want to say at all, but instead knows with surety. 

“She can’t eat if I’m not home,” he says. What a thing to do to someone. “It’s my fault.” 

Emily smiles, hair slipping off of her shoulder as her expression turns to playfulness. “I think you’re seeing it all wrong. Something bad happened to her, and you’re so safe to her that you make it better when you’re with her. That’s not fault, Hotch. Just love.” 

He turns his attention back to the board without another word. 

—

When the day comes, when they find the man who hurt you, you’re sitting at home with Jack Hotchner in your lap. You’re laughing at his laughing, cartoon fish on the TV, and Aaron’s got a gun in his hand fifty miles away. You both giggle, nearly in hysterics as the safe house living room glows pink and red, Jack’s favourite character swimming hurriedly across the screen, as Aaron negotiates the arrest. 

Usually capable of mediation, Aaron finds his patience completely unravelled. He offers the UnSub two choices: he surrenders now, immediately, and he keeps his life, or he deliberates and Aaron kills him. 

He has reason to believe the UnSub will try again, of course. Will keep hurting you until it sticks. 

He goes home satisfied.

“Dad’s home!” you say excitedly, your movie long finished, your thighs numb and stitches stinging where Jack has leaned against you. You encourage him off of you as the front door closes, the cold air from outside rushing in. 

“Honey?” Aaron calls. 

“Yeah!” You stumble into a standing position, sure you look about as disgusting as you have since the situation began, promptly sitting back down as head rush hits. 

Jack races for the door, meeting Aaron in the hallway with a whoosh. “Hey!” 

“Hi, junior g-man, what are you doing?” 

“We watched Finding Nemo,” Jack says, “and now I’m hugging you, duh.” 

“Duh. Well, I need to talk to Y/N for five minutes. Can you wash your hands for dinner?” 

“Yeah.” 

“You okay?” he asks. 

“I’m fine.”

You hear the sound of a light kiss, and then Jack rockets across the hallway and up the stairs. Aaron walks into the doorway, tie still knotted but with no suit jacket, and you know what he’s going to say before he says it. He wears a strange expression.

“You got him?” you ask. 

He puts a white bag on the coffee table, looking down at you fondly. “I got him.” 

“How did you find him?” 

He crouches down in front of you. He’s so careful to be harmless to you now, so tentative. “You’re not the only woman he hurt. We dealt with him in the past. From the information you gave Emily during your interview, and the information he left behind, we found him… If you weren’t as brave as you are, I couldn’t have kept you and Jack safe.” He holds your knee. “Thank you.” 

You stare at him. Staring, wondering what he means. “Brave?” 

“Brave.” 

“I’m a coward.” 

He shakes his head. “No. You’re not.” 

All you've done for days is cry and throw up and bleed, literally. You’ve ruined clothes and sheets, thrown up in his lap, terrified and aching. Each time was met with the same gentleness. A kiss on the cheek, or a hand rubbing your back. Is that bravery? You feel like a baby. 

Aaron’s brow is relaxed. He takes your two legs into his hands, and he looks at you with a reverence that leaves you breathless. 

“You’re hurt forever because of me,” he says quietly, you strain to hear him, “because of who I am, and what I choose to be.” 

“How can you say that? It’s not your fault.” 

“It wouldn’t have happened to you if I hadn’t missed his MO the first time.” 

“You’re not putting the knife in anyone’s hand,” you argue. 

“But it keeps happening.” 

His hair shines dark and wet. It must be raining outside, the safe house walls are thick, the windows shuttered permanently, you haven’t heard a peep. You stroke it back from his forehead. 

“Remember… when we first got together, and you told me you were sorry for how hard being with you could be. And I said it was okay, that it wasn’t hard, and you said it would be?” 

“I remember,” he says, practically mouths. 

“I was so afraid when...” You swallow roughly. “I still am. But not– not of you. Not of what you can do. When you told me it was going to be hard, I thought, well, it’s worth it, because I really liked you then and I love you now.” Tears collect in your eyes. Safe. I’m safe. “And you look after me, so– so–” 

You stop as your voice turns to glass, worried you’ll make a fool of yourself and cry in his hands. 

“I didn’t want this for you,” he says. 

“Nobody wants this. Bad things happen to everyone, but who has someone like you to look after them?” 

He breathes out heavily. “Please… don’t cry.” 

You wipe your cheeks, taking a lengthy pause before you say, “I’m okay now.” 

He looks at you in silence. 

“Come and sit with me,” you say, scrubbing your cheeks, hot tears cooling on the backs of your hands. “Your knees.” 

He actually smiles. It changes his entire face. “What about my knees?” 

Aaron sits on the couch next to you atop Jack’s blanket, a bag of pretzels tipping between your leg and his. You attempt to rake his damp hair into submission as his fingers run against your thighs, fishing for pretzels to put back into the bag. 

You’d like for him to grab you and kiss you harshly, give you one of his straight jacket hugs, some roughhousing, but you won’t get that from him until you're better, and even then, it’s up in the air. So much has changed. 

But not everything. 

“I love you,” you murmur, fingertips scratching down behind his ear to the back of his head. 

He turns to you, sagging with relief and exhaustion. “Kiss?” he asks quietly. 

You nod. He holds your cheek, and you close your eyes at the same time for a kiss. It’s not a lot, but you have time. He can give you another one when you’re both better recovered. 

He pulls away. You open your eyes, finding his closed, his face downturned. “I love you.” 

“I love you, too.” 

“Was Jack good?” 

“Jack’s always good.” 

“Did the nurse have anything to say about your chest?” 

“She said it’s healing okay. That I need to use, uh, scar patches when they start to scab.” 

“I can get those.” 

“I know, I knew you would.” 

He gathers you up for a hug. For a moment, you think he’ll move on, that the end of your nightmare will kill his remorse, but he breathes in, nose wedged against your cheek. 

“Do you think that tonight, we could pretend it didn’t happen?” You’d like to just sit with him, press your hand to his chest and doze. It’s the first night in a while that you’ll feel completely. 

“Yeah. I can do that.” He hugs you rather tightly. “Do you want to see your present?” he asks, relaxing his grip. 

“My present?” 

He grabs the bag on the coffee table and places it in your lap. “I’m worried it’ll remind you of bad memories, but I wanted you to have nice things then, and I still do.” 

In the bag, there’s a pair of pyjamas. Very different to the ones you’d been wearing when you were attacked, they were girly and sweet, soft in your hands, these are sturdy. Still soft, but thick. The shirt is short-sleeved and the pants cuffed at the ankles, a hoodie tucked underneath them, and a packet of minky socks. 

“Thank you,” you say. 

Thanks for everything, for saving you twice, for taking care of you at your worst, and for wanting you to have something comfortable to wear at the end of it. To have experienced an abjectly cruel battering will leave its marks in your forever, but you meant what you told him. He looks after you, and you love him. 

He kisses your shoulder. “You don't need to say that.” 

He doesn’t add anything else, his nose pressed to your shoulder, his hand on your hip. Whatever goes unsaid can be felt in the other’s touch. 

˚‧꒰ა ✮ ໒꒱‧˚

thank u for reading!! it’s been a long time since I wrote a fic for hotch and it’s hard to write him being vulnerable but I hope this is alright anyways and that you enjoyed :D please consider reblogging if you did enjoy it (cos that way my fics get shown to more people <3) ❤️

[lovrre]

Agreement Prt2

I wrote half of this to Need by pinegrove ♫

Art Donaldson x fem black reader

Prt1 here

Word count: 3k

Warnings: smuttt,unprotected sex, creampie,slight breeding kink if you squint. cursing (ofc) slightly domestic relationship (not with Art)and probably some other stuff.

Summary: Despite being engaged to one of the top and richest tennis players in the US, you feel unfulfilled. But everything changes when you transfer schools and meet Art Donaldson, who just can’t quit you.

Author note: I’m so glad I finished I was scared I wasn’t, but your comments gave gave me motivation. Thank you pookies 🫦 I like this one a lot more than the first one. Arts also very obsessed and in love in this one.

After twenty minutes, you finish your meal, alone. You decide to leave through a back exit to avoid the paparazzi waiting outside the hotel entrance. You stumble upon a narrow hallway and carefully make your way out, trying not to attract any attention. When you reach the entrance of the restaurant, you open the door and are greeted by a charming and seemingly empty establishment. The cozy yellow lighting, old pictures, and paintings on the walls, along with the white tablecloths and wooden woven chairs, remind you of an old Italian restaurant you and Art used to go to. You see moving in your peripheral and catch a glimpse of familiar golden locks.

You walk closer to see Art and Patrick sitting at a small square table with a vacant seat, you assume is reserved for you. Patrick with a full plate of food and Art without. "Patrick?" You question, your voice filled with suspicion as you creep towards the table. He looks back at the sound of your In voice, a smile forming on his face as he stands up, “What the hell are you doing here?” You ask, taken aback going in for a hug. Patrick returns it with a laugh before releasing from the hug slightly to look at Art.

“Ask him” You look between them confused. “I asked him to come here” Art states, adjusting in his seat. “Why?“ you ask clearly confused with the situation, “someone could see” you add your gripping the back of your chair almost afraid to sit down. “I bought the place out for an hour, it’s just us” Art reveals looking up at you. “You what?” you exclaim, a bit louder than you intended.

“I’ll explain everything in a minute, just sit” Art laughs, gesturing for you to sit down. You let out a sigh, reluctantly pulling out your chair. “Ok tell me what is going on” you say, slightly impatient. “We’ve got a plan for your marriage situation”, Patrick says, mixing his ice tea with his straw. “A plan?” you repeat, still confused. "Yes, a plan," Art confirms with a nod. Patrick takes a quick sip of his tea before opening a tan folder that he hadn't noticed before. “The private investigator dropped these off at the dorm the other day”, Patrick says, pushing the open folder towards you.

Inside were pictures of your fiancée , kissing all types of women. The worst part is, it was so obvious, he didn’t have a care in the world, every photo taken on different days in different settings. Outside, inside in the morning and at night, all different women.

You knew you shouldn't be upset, but you were, not because he was seeing other people behind your back, shit you were doing that same with Art, but it was the fact he acted holier than thou. That he continued to try and control you while actively putting your agreement at risk. “Wow…” you mutter.

Shuffling through the photos. “That’s not even all of them” Art says.

“Yeah… I accidentally left the other ones, but these are the most important ones. There’s also some paperwork underneath with names, time stamps and dates on stuff” Patrick ads. “How isn’t this everywhere?” You ask, furrowing your brow. “The investigator thinks he’s been paying them off,” Patrick says, taking a sip of his drink.

"Not that I don't want you here, but couldn't you just have faxed these over?" you ask, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, yeah... but then I'd miss the match," Patrick says with a grin, taking a bite of his food. "Plus, I would never miss an opportunity to help my best buds."

"Okay, so what are we doing with these?" you ask, holding up the pictures in confusion.

"We're going to spin it," Patrick replies, still chewing his food. "My plan," Art reminds him, "my bad," Patrick laughs, still chewing his food. You couldn’t help but smile, you’d missed the three of you together.

"We're going to spin it," Art repeats, making you smile wider. "Is this why you're training with my father?" you interject . Art nods in response. "Why didn't you tell me any of this last night?"

Art didn't say anything, a knowing smile spread across his face. Patrick looks between the two of you "freaks," he jokes, "Anyway... how do you plan on spinning it?" You ask, ignoring his comment.

“We lean into the infidelity, take a couple of photos of you crying, the two of you arguing, or something like that release them”, Art explains confidently.

“But… I don’t see how this stops us from getting married, it’ll just look like I got cheated on,” you say, scrunching your brow.

“We’re hoping this, plus me winning today, will be enough to persuade the media against him?”

“You believe you can win?”

“I do,” he nodded.

“Okay… I’m down.”

“Told you,” Patrick added, still drinking his tea.

“Are you especially thirsty or something today?” you ask, tilting your head slightly watching him slurp down his tea. A second one untouched, waiting for him.

“I am actually, thank you for noticing,” Patrick says with a big smile before taking another sip.
You notice Art's eyes drop to Patrick’s plate for a second time while you two are talking.

“You should eat.”

“What?” Patrick says, looking between the two of you who seemed to be having your own conversation. 

“No, I’m okay,” Art says, shaking his head.

“Mike had French toast for breakfast, I think you could have-“ you cut yourself off, looking down at Patrick’s plate. “Egg and sausage.”

“You guys aren’t talking about my food?” Patrick asks, slightly disturbed by your conversation.

“Patrick, I can buy you some more damn eggs,” you assure him as Art pulls the plate from under him.

“What just happened?” Patrick asked, looking around confused with no food in front of him.

Your phone rings, and you look down to see who it is. “It’s my Dad,” you inform, excusing yourself you answering the phone as you walk out of earshot.

The two of them watch your backside as you walk away. “She still looks good”, Patrick bites his lip, leaning over to Art.


“Careful, ” Art warns.


“What? you guys can joke about but I can’t?”


“Exactly”, Art laughs, plucking him on the head.

~~~~

With a dig, the elevator door opens, releasing you to your floor. You walk to your room, opening the door with your key card. Mike is packing stuff away in his duffle bag, getting ready to see your father. You don’t acknowledge him walking past him into the bedroom,leaving the door open. You sit on the edge of the bed carefully taking off your heals, you stand up and unzip the back of your dress with ease. The dress gracefully falls into a pile at your feet leaving you in only your underwear. You step over your dress and begin looking through your suitcase located in the closet. The sound of footsteps causes you to look up to see Mike in the doorway watching you.


“Where are you going?” Mike asked, leaning on the door frame slightly. You don’t answer right away looking for your dress under your neatly folded clothes. “There’s a press meeting with Art Donaldson's team, My Dad thought it’d look good if I’d came ” you say, moving more clothes around. “You didn’t come to mine” Mike states still watching you search.

“You didn’t ask me to” you responded, pulling out a light pink dress from your suitcase. There’s a beat of silence as Mike watches your actions "and you need to change for this press meeting?” Mike asks, raising an eyebrow. "No, but I want to” you say, standing up. When you see mike's eyes roaming up and down your body, you suddenly remembered you were only in your underwear. 


“Can you turn around or something” you ask, scrunching your face up in disgust. “I’ve seen more than this” Mike chuckles before obliging and turning around. You roll your eyes by stepping into your dress. “I’m sorry for how I acted this morning, I’m just stressed,” he admits.

" Really?," you hum, pulling up the straps of your dress.

"I don't want to be that guy," Mike responds, still facing away.

"But you are constantly being that guy..." you mumble, but Mike hears you. 

"I won't anymore. I want this marriage to work y/n, I.”


You release a heavy sigh at his word. “You can turn around now ” You announce zipping up the side of your dress. Mike turns around and watches as you sit back on the edge of the bed putting on your heels. “You’re still going to that thing?” Mike asks with a confused expression. “What about that conversation gave off the vibe that I was no longer going?” You say pulling your stiletto over your heel.


Mike goes silently for a moment watching you walk toward the bathroom. “Like you need more makeup?” Mike scoffs. “Be honest with me are you fucking him?” He asks from behind you in the doorway while you remove a bit of smudged lipstick. “are you serious right now?” You ask staring at him through the reflection in the mirror. “I’m not a fucking idiot, I saw the way you looked at each other, and I get the feeling that’s wasn’t your first time meeting” 


“Only god knows what you’re doing at that college” you can’t stop your self from laughing. “I think you’re projecting” you say walking past him towards the door, picking up your purse on the way. “Where the fuck are you going?” Mike calls out, following you. 

You swing the door open and step out into the hallway. Mike trails behind and tries to grab your arm to pull you back inside. “DONT TOUCH ME!” You yell yanking your arm back. “C’mon Don’t make a scene” Mike says looking around. 


“You have some fucking nerve, you know that? Your friend Isabel came up here earlier looking for you, I’m guessing you guys have a lot of fun In Detroit” you say with a smile. “When were you in Detroit again…my birthday? You ask rhetorically, Mike goes silent for a moment before responding.
 "I don't know what you're talking about," he says, trying to keep his voice down. "You don't?" you question. "What about Sarah, Kim, Kate, Alex? Do you not know them either?" Mike opens his mouth, then closes it. "Yeah…" you drawl, 


"they meant nothing to me... I just needed to get it out of my system before fully committing. I want this to work, I want this to be real, y/n," Mike says, trying to corner against the door in a situation similar to the one you were in with Art last night.

"That's the dumbest shit I've ever heard," you respond, attempting to push past him. He grabs you again using his strength. You had forgotten how strong he actually was. “Last warning” you say looking up at Mike. he can tell by the look in your eyes you’re serious, he doesn’t know exactly what you’re going to do but something in his gut said don’t test it. “Let. Go” you repeat one more time before a voice interrupts you.

“Is everything ok?” Patrick asked from the end of the hallway. "Yeah, everything's fine," Mike reassured with a smile, gently releasing his grip on him. "We'll continue this conversation later," Mike says, forcing a tight-lipped smile as he presses the elevator button. "No, we won't," you smile back with a wave, as the elevator door chimes and he leaves. "Are you okay?" Patrick asks, walking up to you. "Yeah, he wasn’t going to hit me, he knows better," you laugh. "I was actually more concerned about you hitting him," Patrick jokes.

“I got the picture though” he smiles, showing you a camera and clicking through the images of your altercation with Mike.”These are good, you should take them now, I’ll call Art and tell him I’m on the way” you say, pulling out your phone.

“I’ll miss the game” Patrick states with a slight pout.

“Not if you hurry.”

~~~~~

"I won't keep you much longer, just a few more questions," the female interviewer says, holding the microphone up to Art. "Was the training for this upcoming match particularly challenging?" Before the interviewer could finish her sentence, Art was shaking his head. "Not necessarily, different for sure, but not harder."

"As of now, can you confirm or deny the rumor that you have started working with Olympic Coach Dylan Y\L\N?" the interviewer asked, lifting the mic slightly closer to his mouth. "Ummm," Art hesitates, accompanied by a smile. "I think I can. Yes, Dylan is my new coach."

"So you and your opponent today have trained under the same coach?" the interviewer asks, scrunching her brow. "Yes, we have," Art nods. "One more question, is there any special woman in Art Donaldson's life right now?" the interviewer asks with a smile. The sound of camera clicking intensifies, catching Art's attention. Intrigued, the interviewer turns around as well. "She is beautiful," Art says absentmindedly, staring in the direction where you're coming from. You give small waves to friends as you walk in. "That's your opponent's fiancé... and I guess also your trainer's daughter?" the interviewer says, looking confused and turning back to face Art.

"Really?" Art asks, faking shock with a dazed expression. "Yes," the interviewer nods. "I mean.. I meant what I said, She is beautiful," Art said with a laugh, causing the interviewer to join in. His eyes never leaving you. "Does your coach know you have a crush on his daughter?" the interviewer joked, chuckling. "He might now," Art says with a laugh before giving a quiet , "Nice meeting you," as he walks away out of frame.

A short while later, you find yourself reaching for a bottle of water from a nearby table, inserting one of those adorable green straws they had. Just as you're about to take a sip, a voice catches you off guard from behind. "There you are," Art says, a smile lighting up his face as he jogs towards you. As he approaches, you can't help but notice how close he gets, almost too close.

"You're not exactly great at keeping secrets, huh?" you chuckle, taking a step back. Art smirks, "Can't two friends have a conversation?" Peeking over your shoulder at the ongoing interviews, you reply with a straw in your mouth, "We're not even supposed to be friends. You're supposed to be my Dad's client, or from what I heard your crush." You laugh, recalling a question from one of the interviewers. "You're going to get us caught," you whisper quietly into the straw.

"I understand. I can't stand next to my trainer's daughter," Art nods, "Orrr, my opponents, fiancé, but maybe can I stand close to my crush?" Art asks.

 “I think you could, yeah” you nod trying to keep the smile on your face. “Crush it is,” Art says with a smile taking a step forward, yet still maintaining a slight distance. “Did you get the pictures?” Art asks his eyes falling down to your lips. “Yeah, we got them," you confirm with a nod, unable to hide your smile when you notice his lingering gaze. “So we’re in the clear?” his eyes still fixated on your lips, as if he's ready to pounce. "Not yet," you laugh, taking a step back. "We have to wait for them to go to press." Art throws his head back with a strained laugh, and you can't help but watch his Adam's apple bobs up and down. You hadn’t realized until that moment how much you wanted him, it was an all consuming need.

“Just one day," you murmur, unsure if you're speaking to Art or yourself. "Just one day," Art echoes, his eyes now fixed on your neck, his finger brushing your curls away. You watch as he exhales shakily, looking at the fading hickeys on your shoulder, barely hidden by makeup. "Just one day," you remind, removing his hand from your chest. "Just one day," Art repeats, tearing his gaze away to look back up at you. "Your car is here, Mr. Donaldson," a man in black approaches and announces.

“One minute” Art says, gesturing for another second. The man nods in acknowledgment and walks away. “Come with me?” Art asked. “I don’t think that’ll look good.” You alluded to the countless people with cameras surrounding you.

“I couldn’t care less” Art says, shaking his head slightly. “I’d kiss you right here, if you’d let me ” Arts words catch you off guard, and you take a deep breath to try to steady your heart beat. 

“This planning stuff is more for you than me, so you can feel more comfortable. And I’m perfectly fine doing it,’s just …” he trails of his eyes falling back down to your lip. "Alright, I'll come," you rush out, convincing yourself it's to prevent him from kissing you right then. But deep down you knew you just wanted to be near him. You follow closely behind.

Art swiftly enters the car before you lean up, capturing you with a kiss. Before you could even fully step inside, his hand gently grasped your cheek, drawing you closer to his lips as he guided you into the vehicle. Lost in the intensity of the moment, you surrender to the kiss. practically falling inside. The sound of the car door closing behind you brings you back to reality, but the kiss continues to deepen. Suddenly, the driver rolls up the partition, creating a sense of privacy.

A sense of responsibility tugs at you, and you reluctantly break the kiss when Art's hand starts to wander up your bare leg. "We can't," you whisper, "We don't even have a condom," you add, hoping the driver couldn’t overhear.


“You’re right” Art mumbles, sitting back against the seat trying to catch his breath. “ I lost myself for a second” Art laughs, attempting to slow his heartbreak. ”After the game I’ll come to your room” you nod, looking forward trying to gather yourself. “Don’t talk about that, talk about something else” Art says his voice coming out more strained. “Like what?” You turn around and ask. Your eyes landing on the strained erection in his pants. “Oh!” You say, snapping your head back forward. The familiar ache of your core comes back, and you have to bite the inside of your cheek in an attempt to control yourself.


Against your better judgment, you take another peak. His hard shaft still straining against the fabric, you could damn near see the veins on his dick. “Can I?” You ask in a voice barely above a whisper. “Y-yeah” Art replies with a nod agjusting in his seat. You rub your hand back and forth against the Arts bulge while listen as his breath becomes more and more ragged.


Art makes a low moan and that’s enough for you to begin unzipping his pants. Against his better judgment he stops you. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah” you nod breathlessly, fumbling with his pants, pulling them down until his dick springs free. When you begin pumping his shaft, he takes in a sharp breath which causes you to smile. You savor the feeling of his heavy dick in your hand, trying to combat the thoughts of his thick long length inside you. When Art's hips buck into your hand, you fold. “I need you inside of me”, Art opens his mouth to protest and then closes, watching as you bunch up your dress around your waist, pull your panties to the side and straddle him. He grabs your waist with one hand and lines himself up with your entrance with the other. 


You sink onto him with a little too loudly of a moan and Art does the same. Opening his mouth for a sloppy kiss, he doesn’t wait for you to adjust to his size, moving you up and down his dick by your waist. ”shit I-“ Art groans out a wave of pleasure hitting him.
“-I can’t go back to condoms” he moaned, scrunching his brow in pleasure. You laugh and Art quickly retaliates by slamming you hard down on him. You let out a loud moan reflexively using your hand, trying to pull off slightly.

Art moves your hand out of the way, holding you down on him by your waist. “I’m serious”, Art grows leaning forward for another kiss while returning to his previous, rhythm. His words cause you to squeeze around him, and he lets out another low ground throwing his head back, breaking the kiss.



“I’m not going to last much longer” Art says breathlessly. “Just a little longer baby” you coo, leaving kisses on his Adam’s apple down his neck. “You drive me crazy, you know that” you moan feeling his pace fastest. “I do?” you feel Art smile against your cheek. You nod, falling into the crook of his neck enjoying the feeling of him fucking into you. “I want you to cum in me” you whisper, kissing the crook of his neck. “Fuck” Art groans, throwing his head back again. “You’re going to kill me” he states with a strained laugh.


You feel your release building so you decide to taunt him. ”you don’t want to fill me up?” You ask innocently, removing your head from the crook of his shoulder. Look down at him with lust, filled eyes. “Don’t” Art warns, his grip on your waist tightening, “you don’t want to give me a baby?” You huff out trying to keep your voice steady literally feeling him in your stomach. “Fuc- shit shit shitttt” Art moans holding you down onto him filling you up with his cum. His moans echoed through the car, the poor driver. 


“Fuck,” Art states after a minute. “Yea fuck,” you laugh, leaving a kiss on his cheek. “I think I might have a breeding kink”. Art laughs, “Me too,” you say with a smile, leaving another kiss on his head. You feel him twitch inside you, and knowing Art, you knew he would be ready for round two in a minute. You try to get off, but he holds you tighter, keeping you stationary. 

“I want it to stick” he smiles. Oh his smile, you rolled your eyes. You loved him, you knew it now, and you had a feeling he did too. You had been lying to yourself pretending you liked you didn’t care as much as he did. But at that moment you knew you never wanted anyone but him.



You glance out the window to see you were seconds away from the stadium, and then you notice your father standing on the sidewalk. “Oh my god! MY DAD HERE” you say, scurrying out of Art's lap. Art looks out the window, seeing your father standing on the sidewalk expectingly. “Shit” Art huffs, sitting up slightly, pulling up his pants, you take a wet rag next to the champagne and quickly wipe the inside of your leg. You quickly fix yourself before rushing to wipe off any remains of your lipstick off his mouth with your hand.

"Oh no, do I have lipstick on my mouth?" you ask frantically. "Nope, all clear," Art replies with a grin, planting a quick kiss on your lips. "Art," you warn, settling back in your seat. "My bad," Art chuckles, getting ready to exit the car. The car come to stop and your dad Yanks open the door.

"Hurry up, we're late. Mike's already inside," your Dad urges, When he sees you, his expression turns puzzled.

"We were heading in the same direction, so we decided to ride together," you explain before he can say anything. Your dad eyed you both suspiciously. "Alright, let's go," he says, ushering Art into the building. You wanted to say goodbye or wish him luck, and you could sense Art wanted to as well but it would be just too obvious.

You step out of the car, rummaging through your wallet. You tap on the driver's window, and he rolls it down. "Sorry about that," you apologize, handing him a 100 dollar bill before heading into the building.

Once inside the stadium you sit next to your Dad’s team which was now also partially Arts team and somehow also Mikes. Your phone buzzes and look down to see a familiar unsaved number.

“I think your Dad on to us”

“What did he say?” you text back anxiously your fingers moving fast on the keys.

“Nothing really, but i think he knows”

“Did he seem mad?”

“Not really”

“That’s good” you send, letting out a sigh you didn’t know you were holding in.

“Good luck :)” you add before stuffing your phone in your purse . Almost immediately your phone dings and you pull it back out.

“You gave me enough of that in the car ; )” you can’t help but smile at his corniness.

“You’re nasty.”

“Not as nasty as you” you’re about to laugh at his message when you hear a voice directly behind you. “You guys are actually freaks” Patrick says with a laugh jumping over the seat so he was directly next to you. “I applaud you guys for staying consistent at least” Patrick says lightly hitting you on the shoulder. “Can you mind your business” you say rolling your eyes, stuffing your phone in your purse.

“Actually I’ve been minding you two’s business all day with no pay by the way” Patrick adds. “So I think I’ve earned the right to be a little nosy” Patrick says making a pinching gesture.

“So you delivered the pictures?”

“Yes” he responded with a nod

“Thank you” you express your appreciation, turning your attention back to the court.

“Do you think he’s gonna win” Patrick asks leaning in slightly, curious to your answer.

"I hope so, but I don't know. I haven't seen him play in a while," you admit with a weak smile, the reality of the situation sinking in. "I really hope he does win," you mumble.

Author note : GUYS FEEL FREE TO COMMENT I LOVE READING COMMENTS

[xspeter]

part of the ‘dancing with our hands tied’ collection

𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇... You discover Luke does remember that night.

note: kind of a short one, sorry guys !!

W.C: 1.2k

You wanted to enjoy the party. Really, you did, but you were completely and utterly exhausted.

How could you not be? There’d been an accident in the strawberry fields that you still didn’t quite understand how it even occurred in the first place, so you’d been on your feet from sunrise to sunset taking care of everyone involved.

The only thing you wanted to do as soon as everything was said and done was go to your cabin and sleep, but you’d promised your older sister you’d be here. Apparently, she needed “emotional support” to talk to her crush, but from where you stand now you can see they look perfectly comfortable.

You sigh, taking another sip of your beer. You’d barely touched it, and some stupid part of you thought maybe it’d help you wake up. But, you were pretty sure it was doing just the opposite.

“You look happy.” Someone says in front of you, and you don’t have to look up to know who it is.

“Ecstatic.”

Luke huffs out a laugh, right hand in his shorts pocket as he brings the other up to his mouth and sips on his beer. “I heard about what happened with the Demeter kids. Are they alright?”

You just shrug, back hunched over as you slump into yourself. “They’ll be fine. Just… I don’t understand how the Stymphalian Birds even got through the border.”

Luke takes a seat next to you on the log, knees cracking as he does. “Someone probably summoned them as a stupid prank. I wouldn’t think too much into it.”

You just sigh, turning your head so you’re facing him. “I know that. It’s just…” You trail off, unable to put your thoughts into words. It was just too much of a coincidence. The lighting bolt being stolen, a war potentially breaking out between the Gods, and now this?

Luke doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to. Instead, he just places his hand on your knee comfortingly, thumb beginning to rub random shapes into your skin. You relish in the feeling, his calloused hands are rough but oh so warm.

“Why don’t we go back to your cabin and get your mind off things?” Luke murmurs in your ear, but you grunt in protest. “Can’t,” You sigh, “I promised Alice I’d be her emotional support.”

Luke looks up, brown eyes searching for your sister. When he finds her, he can’t help but snort. He points to her, guiding your line of sight. “I think Alice is okay.”

And. Well. Yes. She looked like she was perfectly fine, laughing it up with the boy she liked. But you didn’t want to just leave without telling her.

You voiced that to Luke, who nodded and then got up without another word. You watched as he interrupted whatever conversation Alice was having and pointed to you. The three of them turned back and you attempted a wave, which Alice sheepishly returned.

You aren’t sure exactly what Luke said to her, but by the time he returns to you he grabs your hand and hauls you to your feet. You're so tired you feel as if you can barely stand, and you rely heavily on Luke to lead you back to your cabin.

It’s nearly empty when you reach it, save a few younger kids who are already passed out. You practically death drop onto your bed, legs hanging off of it and arms strewn above your head.

Luke chuckles, but doesn’t say anything. Instead, he kneels in front of you and begins untying the laces of your converse, pulling them off your socked feet and laying them gently next to your bed.

You barely even register it, eyes closed and breathing shallow. If Luke didn’t know any better, he’d think you were already asleep. But the slight smile on your face tells him you’re not.

But, he’d let you pretend.

He removes your makeup for you, gently rubbing at your face. You sigh happily as he does, and it’d be a lie if he said the sound doesn’t make his heart melt.

But, it was normal to feel that way about your best friend.

By the time he’s finished he kisses the top of your head and turns to leave, but you whine. “Luke,” You murmur, voice raspy. “Stay with me tonight? Please?”

Luke had never stayed the night in your cabin before this. You’d stayed the night in his a handful of times, but that was it. This felt like uncharted territory. Still, despite the slight tremble in his voice, he says, “‘Course, Sweetheart. Anything you want.”

You grin, scooting over and making room for him. He slips off his shoes, setting them besides yours in an act that feels entirely domestic.

He lays into the unfamiliarity of your bed. Your bed that smells of lemons and vanilla, just like you. That is still warm with your body heat. Your bed that is yours.

You let out a sigh of content, laying your head on his chest like you always do. Only this time, Luke only slightly wishes you weren’t, all too aware of the rapid beating of his own heart.

“Do you remember the first time we met?” You ask, gnawing on your bottom lip. You fully expect Luke to recall the first day you’d gone and changed his bandages, but he doesn’t.

“When you sang to me?”

You nearly shoot up at that, eyes wide. “You- You remember that?”

Luke laughs nervously, eyebrows furrowed. “Why wouldn’t I? You saved my life.”

While that’s true, you’d completely suspected Luke would be in too much pain to even remember that. His mind would’ve blocked out the trauma. “I thought…”

Luke grins, “What? That I’d blocked it out?” That was exactly what you thought, yes.

“Well, I mean, yeah.”

Luke shakes his head, playing with your fingers that are spread out on his belly. “At first, I wished I had. I mean, who likes to remember themselves screaming bloody murder in front of their friends?” He attempts to joke, but you shoot him a warning look.

He takes the hint and averts his gaze from yours. He swallows, “But, uh, then I remember you singing and I thank The Gods for letting me remember.”

That statement makes you flush. He thanks The Gods for letting him remember what you're sure has to be one of the worst days of his life– because of you? Your eyebrows knit together in confusion, and you allow Luke to intertwine your fingers together and rest them against his stomach.

For some reason, you feel almost guilty. Guilty that Luke would thank such divine beings for you. “There are better things to thank The Gods for.” You murmur.

Luke's expression almost darkens, but he never tears his gaze from yours. “No,” He mutters, bringing your intertwined hands up to his lips, “There aren’t.”

You aren’t sure how to take that statement, but Luke doesn’t give you any time to process anyway. Slowly, his grin returns to his face, and he whispers, “Let's go to bed, yeah?”

You swallow, nodding hesitantly and allowing him to lead your head to his chest. But, even as his fingers run through your hair and slowly lull you to sleep, you can’t get his words out of your head.

taglist: @apolloscastellan @ddarling-ddearest-ddead @sflame15-blog @cherr-y-eji @wen-oo

[bimbo-baggins86]

could you do a smut for anakin/unburnt vader where he manipulates you into finally being with him & joining the dark side and possibly where your memory is wiped of him doing everything bad to get to the dark side because it was all for YOU and he can’t risk losing you? also him using the force on you and him just being totally obsessive 😵‍💫😫

i hope this request is okay i’m so bad at this lmao 🖤

BORK BORK BORK HI I LOVED THIS AHHHHHH also my first Vader piece 🥲🫶 also this is maybe a littler darker than what you had intended 😅

Dddne, 18+ MDNI! You’re responsible for your own media consumption!

☆…━━━━━·:*☆…━━━━━·:*☆…━━━━━·:*☆

“Stop fighting me, my love,” Anakin, or rather Darth Vader grits out from above you as he fishes his throbbing cock out from under his robes. Any other time you’d be begging but now you’re acting like an ungrateful bitch. Couldn’t you see this was all for you??

You claw at his chest, trying to push him away, crying. “No, no please don’t Anakin,” You beg, squirming underneath him, unable to look at his now yellowed eyes for long.

If you had just listened to him and stayed put where he told you to then you wouldn’t have had to of witnessed the horrors he committed and he wouldn’t have to be here trying to convince the love of his life he wasn’t the monster you now saw him as.

He shakes his head, “Can’t do that sweetheart, you need to see I’m still your Ani…that I still love you. Now quit moving.” He folds your legs up, keeping you from moving them.

You swat at his chest, trying to shove him away. He clenches his teeth at your continued fighting, getting even more pissed. Why couldn’t you just listen?? With the force, he instantly pins your arms down against the ground, enabling any movement.

“HELP! SOMEONE HELP ME!!” You cry out, it’s your last resort now. He growls out before suddenly you can’t speak, your words cut off. Your eyes widen as your throat tightens.

“Can’t ever just listen,” He huffs out in anger. His thick tip prods your entrance. Despite not wanting him, your body betrays you and works to welcome his familiar touch. “Wouldn’t have to do this,” He breathes out as he quickly sinks his length into your gummy walls, “if you just listened in the first place.”

His hips snap into you at a brutal pace, “This is all for you. Can’t you see that?” He captures his bottom lip between his teeth, eyebrows pulling together at the intoxicating feel of your pussy around his cock.

He killed them. He killed them. His friends, allys, people who trusted him. Children. Oh god the children.

Your mind repeats it all, the pictures flashing through your mind of what you walked into.

“Kriff. Stop it!” The only downside to him having such a close connection with you is that with your force signatures intermingled, he can read, rather see your thoughts. And now you’re just reminding him of the monster he unintentionally became for you.

Anakin’s hold on your legs is released and you think maybe, just maybe, you somehow got through to him. But no, nothings that easy. His hands come to your temples and your eyes widen in fear, the tears spilling out faster. He was going to kill you.

“No, no, I’m not gonna kill you. Never kill you, sweet girl.” And it’s weird how his soft tone almost soothes you. His eyes close and at first you’re confused, a slight tingly feeling starting in your head. It grows until you’re left looking up at just love of your life.

He knows it’s wrong, but it also worked seeing how your gaze softens and your pussy accommodates his length that’s still fully sheathed in you. Anakin stops keeping you so pinned down, allowing you to speak.

“Ani?” Your tone is quiet, almost a whisper. Your memory of all the atrocities was wiped clean, but you aren’t blind. You can see the Sith eyes that took the place of the beautiful blue ones you used to get lost in. Your hand comes up to the side of his face.

He shakes his head, leaning into your touch, “It’s okay my love, I promise. It’s still me,” Slowly he starts to rock his hips into you again.

A soft moan slips past your plump lips, “B-but-“ You try to argue but the way his cock ruts deliciously into you is enough to start scrambling your brain, “..a..S-Sith?”

He sighs, leaning down so his face was close to your’s, something he always loved about missionary. “The Jedi lie, baby..they’re hypocrites..all liars,” He sucks in a breath, trying to keep himself from cumming before he makes his point, “..wanted to keep us apart..didn’t want me to succeed.” His lips find the pulse point of your neck, leaving a wet kiss there. “Wouldn’t make me a master…despite forcing me to have a padawan..didn’t matter how much I proved myself to them..” He snaps his hips into you to punctuate every few words. “They wanted me miserable.”

“But..the..the dark side..?” You whimper.

“Unlimited power,” He breathes out, “can keep us safe. You safe. No more death. Did this all for you baby..”

He takes your legs and folds them up again, not to pin you down but to hit all the angles only he can reach that make your toes curl. He draws a loud unashamed moan from you.

“Join me..” He rasps out.

The closer you get to your orgasm the less you can pay attention. He can tell so he slows the roll of his hips down to an agonizing pace. You whine at the lack of stimulation but it draws you back to the moment. He comes to grip your jaw to keep your eyes on him.

“Join me,” He repeats, “Join me and together we shall rule the galaxy.”

His eyes are pleading, his words almost whimpered. It still feels like your Ani in that moment. You don’t take long to think before you’re nodding your head.

He grins down at you, placing a soft kiss to your lips, “That’s a good girl. Now hold on for me.” He picks the pace back up, pounding into your pussy, relishing in the wet squelching as she gushes around his throbbing length. This was reward enough for the crimes he’s committed.

Instead of pulling out, he greedily allows himself to cum inside, stuffing his seed deep in your cunt that milks him dry. He can excuse the younglings he murdered if he can see your belly swollen with children of his own.

“There we go, my love. I knew you’d see reason.” He coos lovingly after finding his bearings. He presses soft kisses to your sweaty face. He slips himself out, scooping the cum that spills out back into your pussy.

“Our family will rebuild the galaxy. We’ll rule it all, sweetheart

[dancinglikebutterflywings]

Angel | I.N 

-> Pairing: Nephilim!Yang Jeongin x Reader

-> Request: No

-> Synopsis: Y/N's suspicions about her boyfriend being more than just human are confirmed.

-> Warnings: Fallen Angel/human hybrid stuff. Mention of the bible. Poorly written near death experience.

-> Word Count: 671

-> Requests: Open.

I.N Masterlist | Tag List Sign-Up | Requesting Guidelines

©️ 2024 dancinglikebutterflywings - do not copy, modify and/or repost anywhere.

Y/N walks along the bench seat that’s placed beside the ledge of her apartment buildings roof, her arms stretched out from her sides to help her balance.   

Her boyfriend, Jeongin, watches her nervously. It isn’t like her to be so reckless. He’s moved closer to her, getting himself ready to catch her if her clumsy ass somehow falls. “Can you please get down and come back over to me?”  

“Scared I’m going to fall?” She teases. Y/N has her suspicions about her boyfriend not being fully human.   

Since they met a year ago and started dating not long after, strange things she finds hard to explain have happened. She had small cuts and bruises heal when he touched her. When she’s sick, his hugs cured whatever illness she has. He does things as if he is reading her mind and would disappear at the most random times. Not to mention the feathers that she would find on her balcony. After spending hours researching bird feathers and finding none matching the ones she found, she ends up searching a different species known to have feathery wings. She can’t remember why she started looking up angels but that’s where her search ended up. Everything she learned lead to more suspicions.   

“Yes!” he replies. “Your clumsier than a toddler.”   

She quickly turns to face him but proves his point when she stumbles and falls backwards over the ledge. She screams loudly as she starts to fall the 8 storeys. She closes her eyes tightly, bracing herself for the impact that would surely kill her.   

The impact never comes as a loud whooshing sound surrounds her. She feels the impact of someone catching her and lifting her back onto the roof but she’s too scared to open her eyes. Clinging to the body that’s holding her, she feels the familiar contours of her boyfriend’s body.   

Not knowing what she’s about to see, she hesitantly opens her eyes and the sight before her leaves her breathless. Standing, holding her Jeongin, looking ethereal, a yellow glow surrounds him, large black feathery wings that are almost double his size protrude from his back. His look of panic quickly turns to one of anger.   

“Never do that again,” his voice is thunderous and commanding as he stands her on the roof. All she can do is nod to let him know it’ll never happen again even if the falling part wasn’t intentional. He pulls her in for a tight hug. “I guess I have some explaining to do.”  

“You guess?” she asks pulling away enough to look up at him.  

“Let’s go back to your apartment and I will tell you everything you want to know,” he suggests.  

They make their way back down to her apartment, his wings disappearing as they walk through the door to go back inside.   

“What do you want to know?” he asks as they walk into her apartment.  

Y/N goes straight to the fridge to grab a couple bottles of water. “What are you?” she replies and hands him one of the bottles. “An angel.”  

They both sit down on the couch.   

“In a way,” he replies. “Have you heard of Nephilim?”   

“Like the ones in the bible?” she asks, remembering back the stories she learnt in Sunday School. “They’re said to be the offspring of fallen angels and humans.”  

“My mother was a guardian angel until she met my father,” he tells her. “She gave up being an angel for him.”  

“She must really love him,” Y/N says as she thinks about Jeongin’s parents and how they always seem to be so in love.  

Jeongin nods. “And he really loves her.”  

“So, you’re half angel?” she smiles. “That explains so much.”  

“How so?”  

She smiles lovingly at him. “Why you look so beautifully angelic and ethereal. It’s because you literally are.”  

“You can thank my mom for that.”  

She leans forward and places a soft kiss to his lips. “I love you, angel.”  

He rolls his eyes, smiling. “I love you, too.” 

TAGGING: @staytiny2000 - @kpopmenace143 - @treehouse-mouse - @oddracha - @alexxavicry

@rainydayteacups - @tinyelfperson - @laylasbunbunny - @skz1-4-3 - @pinkies-things

@kayleefriedchicken - @everythingboutkpop - @beefcakebarnes - @summergirlsmj - @instabull

If I'm not able to tag you or you aren't getting the notification, here's some posts that could help:

I made this post: How to change visibility settings

You can also check out this post found that explains more of why people may not be able to be tagged: Why others can't tag your blog

[tojithesourcererkiller]

My love is sick

Astarion x GN Tav

Summary- From knowing nothing but pain to suddenly being treated with care Astarion can’t help but feel like there’s always a shoe waiting to drop…

Notes- kind of a wee venty work….im sorry…I will write fluff….at somepoint…anyway its midnight rn and I’ve typed this on my phone so apologises if theirs Grammer mistakes I’ll fix them tomorrow on my laptop lel

Sickly sweet.

That’s the only way Astarion can describe how he feels hearing how soft Tav speaks to him. Every soft spoken words of reassurance makes him feel sick, every comforting touch burns his skin, every kind action from them makes him feel disgusted, after everything they know about him from his time under Cazador, to the many lives he ruined using his charms after everything they both and their party have been through how can they still look at him with those eyes full of love? It disgusts him.

It disgusts Astarion to his very core that their wasting their time with him, he expects them to use him or grow tired of him but yet their still here, their still by his side after breaking his trance from the nightmares, they still offer their blood to him when needed, they still offer a shoulder for him to cry on, it truly turns his stomach that someone who radiates as much love and warmth as the sun would even spare him a second glance

“-Starion is everything okay? You’ve been glaring at your glass for the last minuet”

Shaking himself free from his thoughts he looks towords them only to be met with those eyes of concern

“I know the wine isn’t the best but I don’t think the glass deserves that glare”

Avoiding their eyes astarion can’t help but let out a sigh of frustration as he hears Tav continue to speak with nothing but kindness his anger and fear begin to bubble past boiling point as he is unable to contain his emotions as he slams the cup in the table before letting all his anger and fear come pouring out

“PLEASE JUST STOP”

Unable to hold in all the feelings Astarion can feel himself begin to spill out all his thoughts he’s tried to keep at bay and unable to stop

“JUST STOP TREATING ME AS A EQUAL CAUSE WE BOTH KNOW THAT ITS A LIE”

Feeling the air in the air turn to ice and feeling the eyes of their companions on them Tav just stays silent while letting Astarion unleash everything

“WHY DO YOU STILL PRETEND TO CARE?! IS IT FOR THE PITTY POINTS?! FOR THE THRILL OF HAVINF A VAMPIRE SPAWN IN YOUR PARTY”

“Of course not Star please jus-“

“WHY DO YOU CARE SO MUCH FOR A BROKEN SPAWN LIKE ME?!”

Feeling himself struggle to keep the tears at bay and clenching his fists even harder he can’t help but to look to the ground to avoid their look of pity

“I’m not even useful anymore so why do you still care”

Slowly raising from their chair and making their way over to Astarion, gently taking his hand into their own running their thumbs alongside his knuckles

“My star I do not pretend to care about you for pity nor to use you, I’m sorry that no one else has shown you such care and love in 200 years”

Placing a small kiss to his knuckles they let one of his hands free bring their hand to cup his face to slowly wipe his tears away

“I wish you could see yourself how I see you, I love you more than the gods, I’d fight the nine hells and back just to prove to you how much my heart is yours”

Snapping his head up to meet their eyes for the first time in what feels like forever Astarion can’t help but look at them with eyes full of hope but still holding a sense of fear

“For as long as I live and breath you own my heart Astarion not out of pity nor greed but for love, I’ll always be here for you and with you for as long as you’ll have me”

Feeling his lip tremble he can’t help but squeeze their hand as reassurance,

Smiling towards him and asking for his permission before making their way closer and bringing him into a warm embrace Astarion finally lets go of all the pain and doubt he felt as he also lets out a small apology for his outburst as he melts into the embrace while Tav holds him securely while playing with the curls in his

“I hope it’s okay for me to love you forever my star”

[cry4tzu]

Someone like her

Kim dahyun x reader; angst,fluff

Synopsis- you can’t help it but be a fool for someone like her.

Song: someone like me by twice

A/n- happy dahyun day everyone. Hopefully I’m not late( kinda forgot to write one for her bday).

-

Having a crush on your best friend is the worst feeling ever:

1.) because its your best friend

2.) bc it would maybe end badly

3.)there is no third answer

I mean just one look from them and you already a blushing mess. They can just smile and it already brighten up your whole day.

That's how you feel about dahyun. Every time you see her, your heart skips a beat. You can't help but stare at her, even when she's not looking. Her smile, her laugh, her voice - everything about her is just so captivating.

You've known her since you were kids, and you've always been attached to the hip. You've shared countless memories together, from playing in the park to watching movies at her place. But as you gotten older, you realized that your feelings for her are no longer just those of a friend. They've grown into something more, something you can't quite explain.

You find yourself daydreaming about her during class, imagining what it would be like to kiss her, to hold her hand. Sometimes, when you walk past her in the hallway, you can feel the heat radiating off of her body, and it takes all your willpower not to reach out and touch her.

After school, you often stay behind to help her with her homework. You don't mind, really; you just enjoy spending time with her.

-

"I can't figure this out," you said, sighing for the million time today. You had been stuck on this last problem for about thirty minutes. Dahyun walked over to you, her eyes are fixed on the page, her brow furrowed in concentration. She's so cute when she's focused, you thought .

"Let me take a look," she offers, sliding into the chair beside you. Her body is inches away from yours, and you can feel the warmth radiating off of her. She leans over, peering at the problem you're stuck on, and her hair falls forward, brushing against your cheek. catching a whiff of the new shampoo she used.

As she works through the problem, her fingers trail across the page, pointing out where she thinks you might have gone wrong. You couldn’t help but watch her movements, fascinated by the way her hands move with such confidence and grace. You feel a pang of envy when she effortlessly solves the problem, wishing you could be more like her.

"There you go," she says, grinning at you. "See? It wasn't so bad."

smiling back at her, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "Yeah, you're right. Thanks, Dahyun. You're the best."

She blushes slightly at your compliment and looks down at her desk, playing with a strand of her hair. You can't help but notice how soft her skin looks, how perfect her features are. You wish you could tell her how you really feel, but you're too scared.

-

Dahyun was really known in college. With her being the class president and all. Not to mention an excellent pianist, she was always surrounded by her peers .

You, on the other hand, were more of a loner. You preferred to keep to yourself and study, not really socializing much. But when you were around Dahyun, it felt different. She made you feel comfortable, like you belonged. Even when she was busy with her own friends, she always made time for you.

You would always be there for her when she needs someone to pick her up from late piano lessons. Sometimes, you would even go inside. and watch her practice without her knowing.

Seeing her fingers danced gracefully across the keys, her brow furrowed in concentration. She was lost in the music, and it was like watching a beautiful dance. You couldn't help but feel a sense of awe and admiration every time you watch her play.

It is something you would never be tired of watching. The way she plays the piano, the way she engages with the music, it was as if she was transported to another world. Sometimes, you would find yourself holding your breath, afraid that if you made even the slightest sound, you might break the spell and she'd stop playing.

-

“Seriously y/n, grow some damn balls and confess to her” yeri said as she watches you pace back and forth.

You had force yeri to listen to you rant about dahyun. About how she made you feel, how you wanted to be with her but were too scared. And how much you hated yourself for it.

“It’s not that easy, Yeri. You know that." You sigh, running a hand through your hair.

She rolls her eyes. "Oh come on, y/n. You've been mooning over her since you had met me. Which let me remind you, for two fucking years .”

"It's not like that, Yeri." You sigh, running a hand through your hair. "It's just... she's so beautiful, and talented, and-"

“ you're in love with her," Yeri finishes for you with a knowing smile. You can't help but feel a bit annoyed at how easily she's figured it out, but at the same time, it's kind of comforting to have someone who understands how you feel.

You stop pacing and turn to face her, leaning against the wall. " even if I do confess to her. How would I do it”

Yeri smirks. "Well, you can make her a basket of all her favorite things. You know, chocolates, flowers, that book she's been dying to read. Then go to her dorm and confess.”

“Yeri, that the smartest thing you ever said all year.” You say with a small laugh.

Yeri rolled her eyes. “If you are going to confess, you better hurry to the store now. It’s going to close in less than an hour .”

“Shit.” You said as you ran out of the room, not before quickly waving yeri goodbye.

-

You was going to do it. You had finally mustered up the courage to tell Dahyun how you felt. (With the help of yeri ofc). You was practicing it all night in your mirror. Making sure it was perfect.

You double check if everything was in the small basket. Before making your way out of your dorm.

As you walk out your dorm to go to dahyun dorm. You stop in the middle of hallway . What you saw made your heart torn into a million pieces. you saw a guy with chocolate and flowers standing at dahyun door.

Fucking cha eunwoo.

Of course you knew who he was. Who wouldn’t ? He was very known for his charming demeanor and acting skills. He is also dahyun crush since first year of college . She had be gushing about him to you every time she had a chance . “He’s so cute.” “Y/n, you should saw what he did today.” Blah blah .

You were not impressed. You could care less about eunwoo. You didn't understand why Dahyun was so into him. He was nice and all, but there was something about him that just didn't click with you.

And now here he was, confessing to dahyun.

“Dahyun, I like you. A lot. I was hoping you could be my girlfriend” he said, holding out the flowers and chocolate. Dahyun's face turned beet red and she looked down at the floor. She bit her bottom lip and you could see her shoulders shake slightly.

You couldn’t stand there. Not when the love of your life was going to be taken from you. You felt like you were being punched in the gut, like all the air had been sucked out of here . Before you could even hear dahyun's response, you left that hallway.

You stormed into your dorm room, slamming the door behind you. Your heart felt like it was going to beat right out of your chest. You drop the basket, not caring if everything had spilled out.

You collapsed onto your bed, burying your face in your pillow to muffle your sobs.

Fuck eunwoo. with his stupid haircut and his stupid smile. Fuck him. Fuck him. Fuck him. You kept repeating that mantra to yourself like a prayer, hoping it would help ease the ache in your chest. But it didn't. Nothing could.

-

Three days since you last saw and spoke to dahyun. You pretty much had been ignoring her.

Her calls . Her texts. Even at school, you would simply say you got to study and quickly leave.

You were still heartbroken. You didn't know how to move on. Every time you closed your eyes, all you could see was her beautiful face and the way she smiled. It was like a knife in your chest, making you want to feel that pain over and over again.

You didn’t want to see her today.

So you had decided to skip class today. You needed some time alone. To clear your head. To figure out what to do. You had been laying on your bed for hours, staring at the ceiling, lost in thought.

Dahyun, on the other hand, doesn’t know why you had been ignoring her. Did she did something that made you mad? She didn't remember doing anything wrong.

She had tried calling you and texting you, but you didn't reply. Even when she saw you in the hallway at school, you just looked away and quickly walked past her. It was like you didn't even know her.

It hurts her. It hurts to see you acting like that towards her. She doesn't understand what she did wrong. Did you not like her anymore? Her heart aches at the thought of losing you.

She tries to call you again but it when straight to voicemail. Fuck it. She’s going to talk to you whether you like it or not .

-

You heard knocking at your door. You didn't bother to get up, figuring it was just yeri again . But when they didn't go away, you sighed and rolled over, rubbing your eyes.

“ fucking hell yeri I already told you th-“ you began, before you opened the door. but suddenly paused , when you came face to face with dahyun.

You was going to shut the door in her face, but she quickly pushed it open before you could. You were taken aback for a moment. As Dahyun stepped inside, angrily.

“Why the actual fuck are you ignoring me?!" dahyun demanded, her voice shaking with anger and hurt.

You didn’t know what to say cause for one, this the first time you had ever heard dahyun curse and two, you felt ashamed.

“So, now you ain’t going to fucking answer me . What am I ? A ghost.”

You swallowed hard, looking at the ground. You didn't want to answer her. You were afraid of what she would do if you told her the truth. But she didn't seem like she was going anywhere anytime soon.

"I-I'm sorry," you finally managed to say, your voice barely a whisper.

Dahyun's eyes widened. "You're sorry? Sorry for what? For ignoring me? For acting like you don't care about me?" Hitting you lightly on the chest as you slightly stumble back.

“I like you dahyun “ you said, you voice barely louder than a whisper.

“What” dahyun asked, not believing her ears.

“I like you dahyun. I like you since freshman year of college. I was going to confess to you three days ago but eunwoo beat me to it. I was fucking hurt. And yes I know I shouldn’t have ignored you. I just couldn't help myself. Especially when I fucking lov-“you got cut off by dahyun kissing you. It was a soft kiss at first, her lips gentle and tentative against yours.

But as you began to respond, she deepened the kiss, her tongue sliding past your lips to tangled with yours. You wrapped your arms around her, pulling her closer, feeling her body press against yours.

Dahyun pulled back slightly, looking at you with a mixture of emotions. "I like you too”

“ But what about eunwoo. He ask you to be his girlfriend. ”

“Y/n, honey he’s gay. I found that out a year after I liked him. And plus he was just using me as a test dummy to ask out Lucas.”

You blinked, feeling a little stupid now. All that jealousy was for nothing. You felt your cheeks flush a deep shade of red. Dahyun smiled at you gently.

“Oh” you mumble, feeling even more embarrassed as you tried to hide yourself with a pillow.

“You are so cute”she said seeing you so embarrassed. “My cute y/n” she adds as she bring you into another kiss.

[doonalli]

Mai and Humanity in Autonomy (Mai Character Analysis)

I think Mai Tsurugi is a character who has a lot to her and while I know she is talked about a bit I think she should be talked about more because she is a truly fantastic character and I hope this post gets you to start thinking about how and why!!

To understand Mai’s character I think it's important to talk about a major theme in 3-1. Obviously at its core Chapter 3 Part 1 is about what makes something human, and its shown through each of the dummies, each encompassing a different aspect of humanity, and for Mai this is the humanity of being able to make your own choices.

And this is made extremely clear during one major point in 3-1 where Ranmaru gives a speech about how humanity is about making your own choices after Keiji gets locked in a coffin. 

And throughout the chapter Mai ends up emboding everything that Ranmaru and this scene is trying to say.

In this speech Ranmaru states that being human is about making your own choices, something that's a constant struggle for Mai’s character, but also something she ends up learning throughout the chapter and finally proving her humanity through it.

and Mai is the one who by far encapsulates this the most throughout 3-1, ironic considering how she is also the only one who didn’t get to hear the speech on account of being unconscious.

When we first meet Mai it’s as a doll during the Murderer Game, the subgame in which the survivors must kill Midori in order to proceed however the dolls instead have a different objective. As a doll Mai is told she must kill her partner (in this case being Q-taro) if she wants to survive. Here she starts off as someone unable to make her own choices and that's shown off almost immediately when Mai ends up being the first doll to play into Midori's hands and try to kill their partner, it's a choice that was set up for her, not something she chose herself but rather it's just her playing along with Midori's puppet show. However, after she wakes from being knocked out by Qtaro we see the first signs of her breaking from that.

When she wakes up, we see the aftermath of her choice from her perspective, and she regrets it, not from a regret of her betrayal but because of her failure.

If Sara tells her “you’re awake…” she’ll say

Its only when Qtaro decides to forgive that she finally regrets her actions

And Qtaro tells her that this doesn’t mean anything, as he claims he would have done the same, and the only thing that stopped him was that he was never given the opportunity. The only thing stopping him was the lack of a choice in the matter, mirroring how the only thing pushing Mai is the looming threat that if she doesn’t kill she dies. Both given only having one real choice presented to them. 

Q-taro even said as much right after Mai stabbed him.

Q-taro calls out the lack of choice the dummies have in the matter, and makes it clear that its Midori who has control over them. Forcing them to play along with his puppet show.

Once Mai is awake it's from this point forward where we see more of who she really is, rather than the cutesy persona she put on before, and that's shown through her actions. 

As a first step towards reconciliation Mai steps up to take Qtaro off Yabusame’s hands and let him lean on her instead. (and if Anzu died Gin will tell Mai that they can take turns if she gets tired, to which she thanks Gin)

The next scene I want to talk about is when Hinako asks the dummies how they plan on surviving with both the humans and the dummies intact. If Anzu and Hayasaka both died earlier Mai will step up to fight back against Hinako and Kurumada’s reluctance.

Rather than speaking from a reluctance to kill such kind people like Anzu or Hayasaka, she argues from experience. She can’t say she couldn’t kill them, but she still doesn’t want her allies to feel the same feeling she did, even if she would have to stop them herself

Finally when Maple starts going on a rampage she decides to risk her life to stay behind and protect Qtaro. Interestingly she also is required to beat the Maple fight as she is the one who reads Maple’s instruction manual and figures out what must be done, which leads into the connection Mai and Maple have in their arcs.

Speaking of, during Keiji’s POV section, Mai and Qtaro hide in the coffins to get away from Maple until they’re unlocked and they are able to save Keiji. Qtaro gets the idea to shut off the elevators to stop Maple from being able to get to the 5th floor after the others. Maple then stumbles in and collapses, starting another scene which highlights the connection Mai and Maple have.

And she explains that her goal as an obstructor was to kill Midori, however there was something that stood in the way of that.

Maple regrets the terrible things she did to everyone but Mai tells her it's because the cast took the ID card from her. Maple tells her that it was because she was programmed into loving Midori, that even this love wasn’t her choice and ultimately relegates her to a “gimmick”, robbing her of her autonomy, a similar situation as to what happened with Mai. During the Murderer game Mai alongside the rest of the dummies are reduced to gimmicks, to the point that unlocking the first level of “gimmick security” lets you see information on the dummies and their collars,

and unlocking the second level causes the victim videos of the dummies to play, ending with a video of what happened as they woke up. Its clear that, to Midori and Asunaro at least, the dummies are simply gimmicks for the Murderer Game.

And this is shown again when Maple explains the true meaning of the “Murderer game”, and how they were pushed into thinking that killing the survivors was their only choice, despite that not being the case.

However Mai doubts it at first, saying

She wonders if Asunaro would even charge them if their battery runs out, she then insists Asunaro was planning on disposing of them from the start, and that they were just watching them struggle helplessly.

Until Qtaro speaks up to make a promise to Mai,

Through the Banquet and Qtaro’s promise a new path opens up, one paved through the bonds between the humans and the dolls. A new choice was created, a choice they made themselves, separate from the “the human lives or the doll lives” dichotomy they were fed before. And with Mai’s help, alongside Qtaro and Keiji, this choice became an actual possibility. 

Once Keiji leaves to charge the Midori doll’s head Mai and Qtaro stay behind and they end up enacting their own plan to help everyone during the banquet. Qtaro lays down in Keiji’s coffin, taking his death into his own hands, in a way alleviating the blame from Mai for her actions, and opening up a new possibility for the dummies with the banquet. Mai still cries out that it's her fault. However the death now has a purpose, has a reason past Mai’s mistake, and it changes the death from one done by a lack of choice, to one that opens up new choices from a lot more people.

From here Mai is alone, with Keiji on the 5th floor and Qtaro gone, she is the only one who is left that knows about the plan, and the only one at all who knows about Qtaro. From here she walks her own path, obtains the ID card from Sara and starts to boot up the Qtaro AI into the doll. Soon an announcement from “Keiji” calling for Sara occurs and Mai tries to push everyone to go with her, likely to make sure Keiji isn’t spotted on the way down, but Sara charges on alone regardless, leaving Mai alongside the rest of the others, and with no Keiji in sight.

She then later meets up with Sara alongside the others and a new Q-taro doll in the classroom after Sara awakens from being stunned.

Very quickly I want to call attention to a scene in the Logic route after Ranmaru kills Yabusame.

After Ranmaru claims that this is the only way left to save Sara, Hinako calls him out on wanting to save himself, causing him to retaliate by asking when she decided to side with them. Hinako, shocked, doesn't manage to reply, but Mai steps in to tell Ranmaru that no one would side with him.

In a way Ranmaru in the Logic Route is the exact opposite of what Mai is striving for. Just the same as her, he killed someone to survive, and while she wouldn’t know that Ranmaru was pushed into this choice by Sara’s words, similar to what Midori did to Mai, there is a large difference in the fact that Ranmaru’s goal includes killing everyone to save himself and Sara but even past that he revels in what he did as the right choice, mirroring Mai’s almost immediate regret at her actions. Even the way she specifically kills her partner while Ranmaru's goal is to kill everyone EXCEPT his partner adds to this.

Right afterwards the fight against Maple 2.0 happens, and there are a couple moments I want to discuss on how they pertain to this theme of making your own choices shared between the two. Firstly, Maple’s first attack.

But, despite her own thoughts…

Here Maple is stuck following orders, and Mai understands that, she tries to tell her to be strong. However this doesn’t end up working out and Maple throws her first attack of the fight, regardless of what she truly thinks.

Next, Mai’s early death.

Mai ends up dying due to Maple’s lack of autonomy in her own actions, and Midori mocks her in that, asking her “You fine with that Maple…?” despite knowing he has her wrapped around his finger. The way Mai dies is in a way she personally could relate to, and relates to her final apology to Q-taro.

In both examples Maple is trapped by her programming in the same way Mai was trapped by the knowledge that she must kill to survive, but Maple shows something important with her final moments.

As she is about to die she breaks from Midori’s control on her and uses this chance to die alongside him, thanking everyone and saying she has “finally woken up” if Mai lived or denying Midori’s reward if she died instead. 

When she finally catches up to him Midori in a last ditch effort tells Maple that he loves her, trying to abuse the programming placed into her, and Sara has 3 possible responses she can give. “He’s lying” and “Hurry up and finish him” both leading him to restate the sentiment that he loves her, but this time Maple isn’t led astray and affirms that she won’t believe him. And if Sara says “Don’t kill him” she continues to lead her own decision stating that she will herself.

However despite this her body fails and she isn’t able to kill him. In the Logic Route, if Ranmaru is still alive, this is specifically caused by Ranmaru shocking her with his stun gun finger, adding another layer to my earlier point on how he is the opposite of Mai with him denying Maple’s own final action. Notably Mai sits down next to Maple’s corpse during the pre-banquet.

Despite this However Maple’s attack showed us cracks in Midori’s facade, cracks that will eventually break him. Maple’s actions here are the first step to breaking Midori and truly winning.

And this is shown in full force during the banquet with Mai’s decision, but before that I want to talk about a scene that occurs beforehand.

When the possibility of a human being a part of the dummies is brought into question, the realisation that Mai isn’t the exact same as her doll comes to light. Eventually this leads to the horrible truth that Mai’s hands aren’t actually her hands at all, but rather Midori’s human hands. In a way this is the physical manifestation that Mai’s actions weren’t by her own hands, but rather she was a tool for Midori, playing along with his puppet show. (and yet another mirror to Ranmaru who also had a scene focusing on his hands earlier in the chapter.)

Upon this reveal Mai swears she’ll kill Midori, something missing from Qtaro’s words if she died, instead his resolve is shaken, wondering if they’ll even be able to beat a guy like him. And this leads to the epitome of her arc, the third hint.

When Sara is forced to pick a red coffin she is afraid to make the choice in fear that her logic isn’t even correct. This is where Mai steps in to tell her to pick a red coffin so she can win.

Mai encompasses Ranmaru’s words from the start of the chapter, no longer too scared to die that she can’t even resist Midori’s hold on her, but proving her humanity by taking her life into her own hands to stand up against Midori, to claim her autonomy, because that's what separates a human from a tool. She quite literally made her own choice with the Banquet, allowing both the humans and the dolls an opportunity to make it through together, a possibility opened through the bonds between the humans and dolls, Qtaro and Mai being at the forefront of that.

Now Mai is willingly telling Sara to choose a coffin, even if its at the cost of her life. She isn’t going to allow Midori control over anyone again. The Mai we see before us here is so different from the at the start of the chapter, one who was too afraid to fight back and make and descision for herself. And even as far back as her victim video where she couldn’t even make a choice between which gun she needs to pick,and died as a result of her panicked state, where she shot the wrong gun. The through line of guns being present in both scenarios also adds to this aspect.

Mai proves humanity through actions, because being human means being able to make your own choices, something both Mai and Maple struggled with at first, but also something they ended up demonstrating over the chapter. They proved their humanity by not letting their actions be decided by another, to not be treated like a tool. Because being human means being able to have autonomy in your actions and Mai proved without a doubt that she is human, despite the physical aspect of being a doll. Because while a doll can’t move, talk or feel without someone forcing it, it's nothing but expected for a human.

==================================================================================================

WOOO MAI ANALYSIS DONE!!! only one dummie left!!! hopefully soon???

Also kinda a Maple analysis by mistake LOL hopefully that's okay lmao, the characters are majorly linked to each other so it didn't feel right to just omit her

But yeah hopefully you enjoyed this and it got you to think about Mai and Maple a bit more as characters, if you liked this and its the first one you've seen then I've got more analyses like these on my blog

and of course its not lost on me the fact that its the 2 women dolls that have an arc about their autonomy, and I love how it falls into YTTD's themes of gendered power as a whole

And as of the day I'm releasing this HAPPY ANNIVERSARY 3-1B!!! The best chapter! I hope this counts as a good enough anniversary post lol, the dummies are a major part of 3-1 after all! I'm happy to give more 3-1 content to the world!

As for now though, I hope you enjoyed and see you next time for my Hinako analysis!!!

[bagerfluff]

i love casper!! Can i request jealous casper because he met reader's ex or someone very close and felt insecure and stuff! Maybe drama with the ex still in love with reader and gets casper all heated up by saying things like "i can make him feel so good. Bet you can't compete. He moans so loud with me and he cums inside me sooo much."

Reader has no idea why casper is suddenly down/anxious and irritated

An: Hi, I hope you like this and have a good day/night/after noon. Don't forget to drink water :)

Jealous Of The Ex

Sub/Bottom Casper x Top/Dom Male Reader

Prompt - Jealous

Warnings - Fingering, unprotected sex, anal sex, praise, nicknames

I also want it noted while that there is smut it is not the main part of this fic, I recommend you read all of it. But if you want to get straight to the smut but go past the caution tape.

“For the last time, stop calling me!”

You yelled into your phone. You pulled your phone away from your ear and ended the call. You groaned and placed your phone on your desk, ignoring the beeps.

“Everything okay sunshine?” Casper asked, he doesn’t think he’s seen you so angry. He’s been listening to you yell into your phone for the past hour.

“It’s just my ex, they won't leave me alone. I think they still like me”, you said. You walked over to your bed and flopped on it. You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down.

Meanwhile Casper was thinking, he knew you had an ex, just not that they were like this. Casper felt angry at them, you obviously didn’t like them anymore, plus, they were making you stressed.

Casper heard your phone beep. Casper walked over to it, the screen lit up and Casper read the message. “Come on baby, I know you still love me”, it read, making Casper’s blood boil.

Casper turned the phone off, placing its screen down on the table. How dare they think you still like them, you loved Casper now, right? I mean, you said that you dated your ex for a few years before breaking up.

You’ve only known Casper for several months now. What if? Casper shook his head, no, he was being paranoid. Casper walked over to your bed and layed down next to you.

“It’s fine, they’ll stop”, Casper said. You sighed, “yeah you're right”, you said, turning your head to smile at Casper. Casper smiled back, yeah, you loved him.

Not your ex.

Casper heard a knock at the door.

Which confused him, you were still at work and you didn’t tell Casper that anyone would be coming. Casper placed his book down and walked to the door.

“Yes”, Casper said as he opened it. “Yeah, is Y/n here?” The person asked, peeking behind Casper. “Do you know him?” Casper asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Yes, I’m his partner, but who are you?” The person asked. Casper felt hands grip his arms tighter. So this was your ex, Casper could see what you dumped them.

Just hearing them speak made Casper want to punch them in their face. Plus, they were lying. Casper was your boyfriend, you were his and he was yours.

“No, I’m his boyfriend, now listen”, Casper said quietly, but angry.

“You’re just a ex who can’t get over him, I’m the one Y/n fucked last night, not you. I’m the one that got him moaning over me. I’m the one that made him cum inside me, you’re just an asshole”, Casper said through gritted teeth

The ex stared at Casper with wide eyes, “fine dude, whatever”, they turned on their heels and walked away. Casper slammed the door shut with a grunt.

Casper leaned against the door, who did they think they were. Who did they think they were? Casper did have to admit, they did look good.

You had dated them for years, you liked them, you fucked them. What if? What if they convinced you to go back with them? What if? Casper heard the door open.

Casper fell back but you caught him, “Whoa, you good Casp?” You asked, pushing him back up onto his feet. Casper furrowed his brows, walking away from you.

“You okay Casper?” You asked while taking off your shoes and jacket. Casper mumbled stuff to himself as you followed him. Casper turned around and sat on your bed, arms crossed and pout on his face.

“What's wrong?” You asked, worry evident on your face as you sat next to him. Casper turned his head away from you, he wasn’t mad anymore. He was more jealous.

You were the most important thing to Casper, he loved you more than anything. The thought of losing you scared Casper more than anything.

Casper hated it, Casper did all of this for you.

He ran away from everything he knew for you and then he might lose you. “Are you okay?” You asked Casper, noticing tears slowly running down his face. “I’m fine”, Casper said.

You turned to face Casper, “what happened?” You asked, grabbing Casper’s face in your hand and turning his face towards you. Casper stared at you before looking away and glaring.

“You’re ex visited, made me jealous”, Casper said. You sighed, “I’ll get a straining reorder on them I swear”, you mumbled. “But, you don’t have to be jealous. I love you, not them”, you said with a smile.

Casper calmed down, “yeah, I guess”, Casper said, though he was still a little jealous. Casper was a bit jealous about something else, about how you fucked them.

He knew you dated them before, but how they looked when Casper brought up the fucking. Casper was jealous of that. “You okay, you still look angry”, you said.

You glanced down, noticed a boner in Casper’s pants.

“Oh, that’s what you're still jealous about”, you said with a smirk. Casper looked towards you, just to see you smirking. “Oh, don’t worry, I’ll show you just how good you make me feel”, you pushed Casper onto his back.

You took off your shirt and opened your bedside draw, taking out a bottle of lube. Casper moved back on the bed, the smirk on his face matching your own.

You looked at Casper before nodding your head to his pants. Casper quickly removed his pants and boxes, revealing his half hard dick. You lifted one of Casper’s legs and lined up a lubed finger to his hole.

“Hmmm, yes”, Casper groaned as you slowly started to finger him. “You’re my boyfriend, my perfect fuck toy”, you said while adding another finger.

Casper moaned at the praise. You added another finger and sped up, your dick getting harder hearing Casper moan. Once you thought Casper was prepared enough you let his leg fall.

You grabbed the bottle of lube and squeezed some into your hand. “Look at this love, you made me feel like this”, you said. Casper leaned up on his arms, staring at your erect dick.

You didn’t remove your pants, just took your dick out. You didn’t have the patience to wait. Casper moaned and watched as you slid your dick into his hole.

“Ahhah~”, Casper moaned as you started moving slowly. “Do you feel me honey? Nobody can make me feel like this”, you said. Casper moaned again, “F-faster~, m-more~”, Casper groaned.

“As you wish”, you said before doing exactly what Casper wanted.

“Nnggee~, hmhmh~”, Casper moaned  as you sped up. You groaned and leaned down, trapping Casper’s head between your hands. “You heard me pretty boy, you do this”, you groaned into Casper's ear.

Casper moaned and bucked his hips forward. You moaned and sped when you felt Casper tighten around you. “C-cumming~”, Casper moaned as he came on his and your stomachs.

You groaned and leaned back up, thrusting faster as you chased your orgasm. “Ahaha~”, Casper moaned as you came inside of him. You pulled out and smiled at the sight of cum dripping out of Casper’s ass.

You leaned back down and kissed Casper on the forehead. “I love you, not anyone else”, you said. Casper smiled, wrapping his arms around your neck to pull you closer to him. “I love you too, more than anything”, Casper said.

You were his, and he was yours.

[xxxcertifiednerdxxx]

Are u really/still LDS? Saw ur tags about himbo not being a gendered word, am very curious to hear more about ur experience as a member of LDS who also cares about trans rights/trans people.

Hi! Welcome!

i will put my answer under a cut bc it’s long and rambly, but hopefully it makes sense!

I am indeed still an active member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and I will hopefully be serving a mission soon.

First of all, every true Christian knows the two great commandments: to love God with all thy heart and might, and to love thy neighbor as thyself. (which you can’t do if you hate yourself, but that’s a discussion for another time.)

There is also the commandment that goes something like: don’t comment on the more in thy brother’s eye when thou hast not plucked the beam out of your own eye, which means don’t go policing other people about what you say is right and wrong when you have your own faults to overcome.

I am literally just some guy. I’m not perfect, and I’m definitely not God. But i am a child of God, and so is everyone else.

I don’t know what anyone except for me is really going through, and i honestly try not to think too much about myself or else I will break (it’s a problem I’m trying to overcome).

Basically, it all boils down to i think everyone deserves kindness and respect and safety, and I think offering those is a much more effective way to share the Light of Christ than preaching at people who don’t really want to hear all that.

Something people unfortunately don’t talk about enough about my church is our belief of the importance of agency. I don’t know how other religions explain the existence of Satan, but we believe one of the reasons he was cast out of Heaven was he wanted to force us to do what it takes to return to heaven. We wouldn’t have free will. We wouldn’t have agency. This is one of our foundational beliefs.

Obviously, some things do have consequences, like murder. Murder shouldn’t go unchecked. But even then, I don’t know why so-and-so killed another guy. So I’ll leaving the judgement to God and focus on being a good person myself.

I wouldn’t barge into the house of someone who is catholic or Muslim or Jewish or Buddhist or anything and tell them their beliefs are wrong and they need to adopt my beliefs; why would I do that to someone trans?

I’m not going to say my church’s beliefs are wrong bc I believe my church is true, but I heard someone say perception is reality, which I really like. What I believe is true to me, and what you believe is true to you. Hopefully we will all find truth, and we will love each other along the way.

[itsukicoded]

……………………..any time i have to sit & read abt itsuki and his love for art and his need to express himself and his want to envelop the world in something beautiful im just yeah me too me too finally someone who gets it….

[okcoolthanks]

How to stop feeling like an awful person after accidentally crossing someone’s boundary even though you talked to them about it and apologized and know you won’t do it again and they understood it was an accident and it’s fine and you two are still on good terms

[chuluoyi]

✎ throughout heaven and earth

- gojo satoru x reader

a sudden mission. a curse beyond your grade. all hell breaks loose when gojo realizes that there are hidden machinations behind the incident that befalls you

genre: feral!gojo, injured!reader, hurt/comfort, exponential fluff !

note: we need a gojo who will go ballistic against the higher-ups for dragging you in their mess :) refer to this for the reader's CT, and this loosely takes place after the events in heaven's fury, and the epilogue is based on this very brilliant idea :))

a part of gojo's love entries

series masterlist | oneshot masterlist

Something isn’t right.

You should’ve known it was strange when they assigned you with a sudden mission with little to no briefing. You should’ve gone through with your gut feeling and informed Satoru about it.

Because if you did... now you wouldn’t be running for your life like this, frantically dodging the hacks and slashes of this chainsaw-like cursed spirit that was evidently not a Grade 2 as what you were told.

“Ah!” you yelped as the sharp ends of its body struck your shoulder, leaving you bleeding openly. This was no small wound—it was deep enough to make you stagger.

You had to do something about this because merely avoiding wouldn’t save your life. You had to come back in one piece. You have to— for your baby and Satoru.

What if I can’t? The sheer thought made you tremble. Your baby boy was still so little and he needed you more than anyone, and Satoru...

God, you couldn’t bear to leave him alone. Not again. He couldn't handle losing someone again, not after all he had already lost.

You gripped your whip—your cursed weapon—tightly amidst your bleeding hand. You had barely enough cursed energy for a domain expansion that guaranteed a sure-hit effect. You have one shot. This was all or nothing.

But you weren’t sure if it would work, because you were on the verge of exhaustion, and this was a special grade curse. Your domain expansion was definitely not as refined as the Satoru’s, and this monster was an enemy of his class.

“Satoru...” your voice came out in a sob. You were terribly scared, and honestly you were entitled to. You weren’t even sure you would survive this at all, and all you could think now was your husband’s silly grin and how much you loved him.

And right afterwards, you saw the cursed spirit lunging at you, and with everything left that you had, you screamed—

“Domain Expansion: Transcendent Veil!”

“Gojo-sensei, p-please come back... Nee-san is...!”

Satoru was in Kyoto when he received that call from Megumi— and that moment shattered his world as he knew it.

“Megumi, what is it?”

“She w-was sent on a mission... but then it's a special grade— a-and... she... she e-exorcised it b-but—!”

He teleported without second thought to Tokyo. His mind was blank, the only sound he could hear was his own violent heartbeats, and his fists were clenched so tightly.

“The cursed spirit got her too… It made a cut on her neck.”

His most precious wife... the one person he must protect at all cost, was now possibly—

“Megumi.” He saw him sitting on the hallway of the headquarters’ hospital the with his son on his lap—you had asked him to look after your baby—and the boy looked up to him.

“Gojo-sensei...” Megumi appeared shaken, and seeing that, Satoru immediately took his child from his hands, pulling the little kid into his embrace.

“Go back home, I’ll stay here.”

In all his life, Megumi had never seen Gojo Satoru as calm as he was now. He looked fearsome, as if he was in the battlefield.

“Ichiji.” Satoru turned to the other man rigidly standing next to Megumi, causing him to stiffen up even more. He didn’t say anything further as he pat his little son’s back, and yet Ichiji knew all the same what he wanted from him.

“It’s from… the higher ups, Gojo-san.” Ichiji gulped as he said it. “Y/N-san was suddenly called in yesterday night, and she was told it was an urgent mission.”

“Who called her?”

“It was…”

When Ichiji told him the name, suddenly Satoru barked a snort, and his lips curled into a manic grin. It was a menacing sight for both Ichiji and Megumi, as he looked almost unhinged if not for his secure grip on his son.

But contrary to what they were thinking, what filled Satoru at that moment was pure, unadulterated fury. A righteous sense of being crossed—because, how fucking dare they?

Those higher ups first pressed him to execute Yuji, and when he paid them no mind… now they staged this atrocity against you, most definitely to serve as a warning to him.

“Ichiji, tell them that I’ll pay a visit tomorrow. And drive Megumi home tonight.”

He would make his point loud and clear. He would show them how wrong it was to ever test him. But…

The plan barely satisfied him. They hurt you. His heart finally lurched as he processed the fact… when he heard his baby’s soft whimper against his shoulder.

. . .

You sustained serious injuries, but finally, you were out of critical condition.

When Satoru was allowed to see you, you were still connected to many monitors and breathing machine. He brought your baby too inside, and upon clearly seeing both of them, suddenly your eyes welled up with tears.

“Hey…” his hand gripped yours reassuringly. You sniffled when the strain of your broken ribs made you almost cry out in pain, and Satoru immediately calmed you down.

“Sweets— hey, don’t cry, yeah? You did good.” He pressed a soft kiss on the back of your hand. “You did freaking good. You’re okay now. You’re going to recover, yeah?”

You gave him a tearful little nod, feeling so grateful that you could see him again. And unbeknownst to you, seeing you like this broke his heart too.

“Mwa...” your baby, cradled in your husband’s arms, suddenly stretched his tiny hands towards you, and Satoru handed him over for you to hold.

With the little strength you possessed, you reached out to stroke his soft cheeks. Your son... the thought of how close you came to death brought another tear rolling down your cheek.

All sort of thoughts went through Satoru’s head at the sight. His wife, the mother of his son, who is proud of him for everything he does—

—and their sorry asses dared to hurt you.

Suddenly all he saw was red.

And he swore he would make it right to you. Soon.

“Ah, Satoru-kun… to what I owe the pleasure?”

“…I’ve heard that it was you who assigned that special grade mission to my wife, correct?”

“Oh, that. First of all, I must apologize for my... oversight. We were misinformed... Our scouts made a mistake while filling the files.”

Satoru was trying not to lose his composure first thing after coming here. Really.

But the knowing tone of the elderly Jujutsu Commander only fueled his rage, growing stronger the longer he stood behind this stupid paper divider.

“So it’s a mistake, huh?” he repeated in a satire manner. “Then do you know that my wife has just gotten out of her maternity leave this week?”

The man behind the divider chuckled quietly. “Satoru-kun… I know the sentiment. Of course you’ll be worried, and it did end in a rather… unfortunate incident. However, jujutsu sorcerers are bound to their duty, and your wife cannot rely too heavily on her status as a member of the Gojo clan to be excluded from—”

Fuck it. He had no patience any longer.

“Seems like I need to be a lot rougher, after all.”

Suddenly the room crackled with electricity and the Jujutsu Commander gasped at the sense of foreboding he felt. “Gojo, you can’t—!”

“Heh, but I can.” He let out the most satisfied laugh before opening his palm and chanting in a lower voice: “Cursed Technique Lapse: Blue.”

In a matter of seconds, the audience chamber of jujutsu headquarters turned into a pile of destruction. The commander barely made it out the deadly vacuum vortex with a shriek.

“Ah! N-no! Get a-away from me!” Satoru stared down at him coldly through his unobstructed heavenly eyes, as he pitifully tried to crawl away. He took one step towards him, stomped on his hand ruthlessly—causing the man to scream, before he got down to his level.

“N-no! Please, s-spare me...!”

“This is my first and last warning to you.” It was beyond terrifying, to see those six eyes in this close proximity. But even more dreadful was the tight chokehold on his throat—

“If you ever try to pull this idiotic stunt again on my wife, know that I can and I will snap your neck.” Satoru’s face split into a sinister grin as he tapped the man’s nape, before he crushed the bones of his hand with a crack and made him howl. “Remember that, yeah?”

. . . that day, none in jujutsu headquarters dared to spread any word about Gojo Satoru’s outrageous conduct, even when it was an attack against their own highest ranking leader.

“Satoru, you don’t have to, really—”

“Nuh, uh! I’ve promised you I’ll nurse you back to health!”

Unaware of anything and everything, you thought that your loving husband was a silly jester trying to make you feel better. On the fifth day of your stay in hospital, you were well enough to eat solid food, and Satoru insisted on spoon feeding you the fruits he cut himself.

“Good girl,” he praised with a wholly playful smile as you chewed on the watermelon. You looked at him with a mock frown, pursing your lips.

“You’re making me look like a kid.”

“You are, in fact, my second kid, so I have all rights to baby you.”

You let out a giggle, but then suddenly your throat felt like it was closing in and you coughed. Instinctively, you reached for your neck— your fingers tracing the scar there.

You still could remember the sense of paralyzing fear you felt as soon as your neck was cut. The heavy bleeding that followed, the way the world blacking out around you…

“Sweets…?” Satoru put down the plate and got a grip on your trembling figure. He gently pushed your chin up to meet his eyes. “Hey, look at me. Look at me, hmm?”

Your frantic eyes locked onto his, and your rapid breathing steadied. Your clammy hand reached out to touch his face... before you lunged forward, throwing your arms around him.

“Sweetheart…” Satoru hugged you back in return, sighing against the nape on your neck, as he planted a soft kiss there.

You tried your best not to cry but it was hard not to while remembering everything.

“I-I was so scared…”

“Mhm.”

“I-I kept thinking… w-what if I c-can’t see you… or baby again…? I… I s-still want to do a lot of… things… w-with you…”

The way you shook in his arms like a fragile leaf made something inside him burn. He was supposed to provide you with security, give you a life far removed from curses—

Having left that warning against the higher-ups wasn’t enough, he should’ve made him beg for his life more—

“Listen to me,” Satoru said as he broke the hug, the deep frown in his grave expression made you almost sob. He gently wiped your overflowing tears with the pads of his thumbs.

“Stop thinking that. You’re alright. You’re going to get better. You and me—we are going to raise our son together.”

You took in each of his words fully, even as your lips quivered.

“And mark my words…” Right in this moment, you thought that your husband was most dashing as he gave you his promises—as his blue eyes glimmered under the light. “They won’t ever lay their hands on you ever again. Not while I’m here. Not ever. I already made sure of that.”

You were curious about what he did, but you chose not to press further when Satoru leaned in suddenly and brushed his lips against yours in a soft kiss, melting your heart into mush.

When he pulled away, it was his usual teasing grin on his handsome face. “Now, I only have one duty left— that is to get my cute wife back on her feet. So, be a good little wifey and have lots of fruits and sleep, okay?”

You giggled freely this time, feeling tremendously safe and loved, and instead of answering, you chose to peck his lips instead— hoping that he’d know that you trusted him with your whole life.

. . .

“By the way… Satoru, where’s our baby?” you missed your pumpkin, and while being with your funny husband lifted your spirits, you wanted to cuddle him too.

He chuckled in response. “Ah! Since Megumi is on an assignment, I left him with Ichiji earlier! Don’t worry, I’ll come pick him up soon, ‘kay?”

Epilogue

“I’m going out for a bit, and if you ever make him upset or cry… I can and I will sense it! So Ichiji—do your best!”

“Bwa…”

“Eeek!”

Ichiji stared at Baby Gojo with literal sweat on his forehead, as the little being curiously looked up at him.

By all means, this baby was adorable. Even more so when his father dressed him in a shark onesie. It was a peculiar choice—just like any of Gojo’s choices were—but it sure made the baby look even more endearing.

But the thing is… he didn’t feel secure enough to hold him! Especially when he didn’t know if Gojo’s claim of telepathic connection with his son was true or not!

Amidst his thoughts, suddenly Ichiji felt a soft touch on his arm and immediately turned to find the little munchkin putting his little hand on him and staring at him with such pureness unbefitting of Gojo Satoru’s son.

How can this baby be a stark contrast to his father? Ichiji was almost tempted to snuggle him, but he knew better.

“O-oh… d-don’t touch me…”

And as he retracted his hand back, the baby suddenly widened his eyes, feeling betrayed apparently, as his little lips wobbled and face scrunched up, so ready to burst into tears—

“Hic…”

“—!! Nooo! Don’t cry! Your father will fry me! Eeek!!”

[seonghwaddict]

save a horse, ride your best friend — song mingi

in which your best friend can’t believe you’ve never ridden a dick before, so he takes it upon himself to teach you.

best friend!song mingi x fem!reader. requested by anon. genre. slight fluff. smut. best friends to friends with benefits. warnings. explicit sexual content mdni, inexperienced!reader, thigh riding, fingering, use of a dildo, big dick!mingi, multiple orgasms, unprotected, creampie, swearing, nicknames (baby, angel, pretty). wc. 4k. rating. mature.

lilo’s notes. this was requested a while ago but i’ve been putting it off because… i’ve never written anything about toys being used so uh, i was worried about the pacing and stuff. i wasn’t sure if you meant for them to be in an established relationship, so i went for the fwb route. IMPORTANT!!!! i lost access to my google account bc of a stupid mistake, if you sent in a request through my google form and would still like me to see it, please send it as an ask <33 i remember a few of them, but do send yours in just in case!!

listening to. need to know, doja cat // if u think i’m pretty, artemas // moonlight, kali uchis

masterlist.

it was a regular saturday evening. you were on a video call with your best friend, mingi, talking about anything that came to mind as you each ate a bowl of ramen as if you were really in the same room. he really only lived a couple buildings away, a two minute walk at most, but actually joining you in your apartment didn’t cross his mind until something interesting was brought up.

you weren’t sure what led to the conversation, but somehow it steered into the direction of something less innocent as you found yourself talking about an embarrassing date you’d gone on a while ago. recounting the story, laughing together, soon turned into a conversation about what each of you like in bed.

“oh, it’s just amazing,” mingi laughed as he gulped down a mouthful of water, momentarily pausing his rambling about how much he loves it when someone rides his dick. he ran a his hand through his short, washed-out pink hair, “honestly, my favourite thing ever since it probably feels just as good for whoever is, y’know, riding.”

based on everything he’s said so far, you came to the conclusion that he was more into giving than receiving, that he got off on seeing all the pleasure he can give his partner. so, it made sense he’d choose to mention the fact that riding him would feel good. not that you would know.

“can i admit something?”

he looked up from his bowl, sharp eyes looking almost hopeful as he nodded.

you looked around your kitchen jokingly, pretending to make sure no one sense was listened as you leaned closer a whispered, your hand cupping the side of your mouth.

“i’ve never done that before.”

his jaw dropped at that, letting out a small laugh. “you’re kidding.”

“no, really,” you insisted, going back to eating casually as if you were having the most normal conversation in the world with your best friend, “i really haven’t done… much, so i can’t confirm or deny your theory.”

“huh.” he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms as he thought for a moment. his head tilted and it was then that you felt how warm your cheeks felt, how your thighs were pressed together under the counter. of course, he was well aware of the fact that you had much less experience than him, only knowing about two people you had slept with. but damn. he clicked his tongue and shook his head ever so slightly. “that won’t do.”

furrowing your eyebrows, you opened your mouth to ask him what he had meant by that. he beat you to it before you could get a word out.

“i can… teach you, if you want?”

you blinked at your screen, resting your wrist on your countertop and gripping your chopsticks a little too hard. a silence followed his offer, though it wasn’t awkward. in fact, he could see you genuinely considering it as you thought it over. eventually, you gave him a tiny nod.

“i mean,” you shrugged, shifting your eyes away shyly, “sure, i guess. why not?”

he grinned, trying to hide it as he shoved a mouthful of noodles into his mouth and shoved his bowl aside. he chewed, swallowed then got up and made sure to bring his phone with him. you recognised his hallways then bedroom as he walked through his apartment. “i’ll be there in like 15, i need to buy something on the way. just wait there, and where something comfortable and… um, accessible.”

you nodded, despite your confusion, and he hung up. accessible? you looked down at your clothing—or rather, lack thereof. since you were home and not expecting anyone, you’d settled on wearing just a shirt you stole from mingi that was too large for him and much larger for you, and panties. you lifted the hem of the worn shirt, assessing how much of your dignity you’d lose if he saw your pink hello kitty undergarments that you only wore if you were doing laundry.

you could already hear him giggling at the sight.

groaning and cursing under your breath, you dropped the shirt and sped to your bedroom to dig through your closet in hopes of finding something a little more appealing. after making a mess of one of your closet’s drawers, you finally pulled out a pair of less offensive panties. they were made of soft cotton; a muted light blue with thin white lace trim, the cut shaped more like a bikini than what you call your grandma underwear.

deciding they were flattering enough, you slipped off your hello kitty pair—ignoring the embarrassing amount of wetness creating a wet patch right where it was pressed against your core—and replaced it with the new pair. as you untwisted the waistband and adjusted it to fit properly, your doorbell rang and you froze on the spot before pulling yourself together and heading to open the door.

the walk to the door felt abnormally long as you stumbled over on wobbly knees. admittedly, you were a little nervous. sure, there have been times where you wanted to do some more than friendly activities with mingi, but you never actually thought it was happen. yet here you were, opening the door for him so he could come in and show you what being a cowgirl feels like.

“hey,” he greeted you softly, stepping into your home and closing the door behind him. you noticed a small plastic bag in his hand, eying it curiously as you watched him kick off his shoes and hang up his coat. once that was of the way, he took one of your hands in your free one and pulled you to where he knew your bedroom was.

once there, he set the bag down on your bedside table and dragged you to stand between his knees as he took a seat on the edge of your bed. he looked you over, lingering on the familiar t-shirt.

“so you’re the one that took this shirt, huh?” he quirked an eyebrow, glancing up at you as he released your hand and brought both of his to your hips. his thumbs caressed the curve of your waist over the shirt. “it was my favourite.”

you laughed softly, “clearly you didn’t care enough if i was able to keep it for three years without you noticing.”

“you little thief.” his nose scrunched as he glared at you jokingly, giving you a gentle squeeze.

“if you really want it back, you can always take it.”

“nah, it’s fine, keep it. it looks cuter on you anyway.” he took a breath and gave you another once over, humming appreciatively when he moved his hands up higher, dragging the shirt with it until he caught a glimpse of your panties. you tensed, caught off guard by how close he felt. “i need you to relax a little, how about i help you loosen up, yeah?”

you nodded, averting your gaze but returning it to him when you felt him pull you onto his lap. he slotted one of his legs between yours, easing you down to straddle his thigh. his hands ran up and down your sides and few times before resting on your bare thighs, your breath stuttered and he held back a smile.

“are you still okay with this?” he asked quietly, absentmindedly playing with the hem of his your shirt. “if i do anything that makes you uncomfortable, just tell me and i’ll stop immediately and we can just watch a movie or something, okay?” when you only nodded, he continued, “i need you to say it, please.”

“i’m okay with this,” you muttered in return, resting you hands on his biceps, “and i’ll let you know if i need you to stop.”

“good, now…” without waiting any longer, he leaned forward to attach his lips to your neck, his hands slowly beginning to rock you back and forth on his lap.

you sucked in a sharp breath and clung into his arms a little tighter, your stomach fluttering at the feeling of your clothed cunt on his firm thigh, your panties dragging against your clit with ease thanks to how wet you already were. he lifted you slightly as he pulled you towards him, pushing you down as he pushed, the varying pressure making your lips part in a soft whimper. he nearly groaned at the sound, moving his lips right below your ear.

“you know,” he rasped between the licks and kisses, “i can’t deny that i’ve wanted to fuck you for a long, long time now.”

“r-really?”

mingi chuckled as he pulled back to look at your face, half surprised and half needy. he noticed that if he relaxed his hands, you’d continue grinding against his thigh.

“yeah, really. i mean, look at you,” he glanced down, one of his hands lifting the hem of your shirt to watch you ride his thigh slowly, a dark wet patch forming right where your leaking pussy sat. he bit his lip, “you look so perfect… and i bet you’d feel perfect, too.”

you nearly whined at that, fucking yourself on his thigh just a little faster as he sucked a dark mark right above your collarbone before returning to mutter dirty words into your ear.

“i know practically everything about you and your cute little body, you know. better than anyone else,” one of his hands inched it’s way up your thighs, brushing against the edge of your panties, “i’ll make you feel so good, angel, i promise.”

“mingi?” you whimpered, prompting him to lean back a little to look at you with a curious tilt of his head and a raised brow. “if you don’t shut up and kiss me right now, i might lose my mind so… please.”

his beautifully plump lips stretched into a smile as he wasted no time in practically pouncing forward and smashing his lips against yours. it started a little slow as you got acquainted with each other, despite the fact you could feel a nearing orgasm as a knot in your stomach drew tighter with each roll of your hips, but soon the kiss turned hungry.

he groaned into your mouth as you let his tongue explore, making you let out a quiet moan. mingi knew he wouldn’t be able to kiss anyone ever again. you, his best friend of all people, had the most inviting lips he’s ever felt. so inviting, so perfect and so soft. he thought everything about was soft. his hand slipped just under the edge of your panties as his other one made your grinds slow down.

you didn’t mind the slow pace, knowing just a few more rocks of your hips would have you tipping over the edge. but he evidently had other plans as he finally made your hips still completely. you pulled away from his lips with a pout. if you were trying to make him feel bad, it backfired terribly.

all he could think of as he looks at your swollen, red, wet, pouty lips is how much prettier they’d look wrapped around his cock. but he could save that for another time.

“there’s no need to rush, baby,” he chuckled, wiping some saliva away from your bottom lip.

eventually, when he was sure you had calmed down enough, he lifted you off his lap a little and turned to lay you down on your back, pressed against the comfortable mattress as he kneeled on the edge. he gripped your knees and bent them, pushing them closer to your chest with his eyes zeroed in on where your slick was leaking through your panties.

with one hand keeping your knees together and elevated, he ran his other over the fabric, pressing down on where he knew your clot would be and elicit a sweet little moan as you squirmed beneath him. he thought you were so cute like this, you looked so flustered as he gave you nothing but featherlight touches where you needed him most. for now.

“don’t get all shy on me now,” he cooed as he glanced up and noticed you covering your face with your hands, “let me see you, pretty.”

he didn’t continue his touches until you finally removed your hands, giving him a nice view of your abused lips and round eyes, pupils blown wide with lust in a way that had something stirring in his abdomen. and his pants.

he let down your knees for a moment so both of his hands could slip under the waistband of your panties, slowly pulling them down your legs. he actually moaned when he saw the strings of arousal clutching onto the fabric as he dragged it away, snapping when he got too far.

“you’re so pretty, baby,” he murmured, watching your entrance squeeze around nothing, making more slick drip out.

after tossing it aside, he wasted no time in getting your knees back to the previous position and running his fingers through your folds.

“oh, fuck,” he groaned, eyes squeezing shut for a moment as you let out a moan when he tapped against your clit, “you’re soaked.”

he glanced up at you, wanting to see your face as he slowly pushed in too fingers and catching a glimpse of your hard nipples poking through your shirt. your face contorted for s fraction of s second before relaxing, your head tipping back against the mattress as you let out a whine.

he choked back a moan at the tight walls around his middle and ring fingers, the fingers of his other hand digging into your thighs. “sh-shit… you’re so tight. i’m gonna have to stretch you out first, okay?”

you nodded mindlessly, too distracted by his fingers prodding at your sweet spot to care about any words he may have said. but you furrowed your eyebrows and lifted your head when you felt both his hands leave you, finding him reaching for the bag. your curiosity outweighed your disappointment as he pulled something out.

it was a dildo. about as thick and long as the biggest person you had before, and made of what looked to be transparent silicon. your insides tightened at the sight, somehow the thought of him seemingly buying this just for you turning you on even more.

he returned to kneeling at the edge of your bed, leaning down to loop his arm around your waist and lift you up to place a pillow under your hips before letting lay back down.

“couldn’t find one my size, but this should be fine,” he held the dildo and ran the tip through your pussy, collecting wetness as you shuddered, “my cock will just have to stretch you the rest of the way.”

you breath hitched at the implication of his words. so he was bigger than that? your thighs pressed together at the thought of being completely stuffed by him. he chuckled, separating your knees enough for him to have a clear view of your pussy, pulsing and dripping and begging for his attention.

he began slipping the toy into you, filling you up inch by inch and watching your needy hole stretch around it and swallow it up. the sight had him choking back a moan, biting down on his bottom lip.

the stretch had your back arching and pushing yourself against it desperately, feeling like that alone could get you to finish. it only took a few deep strokes for your pussy to get used to the size, squeezing and writhing around it until you couldn’t handle it anymore. your arousal coated it quickly and seeped out with each stroke, squelching sounds filling the room that shot straight to his dick.

when you finally came, your toes curled and your body twitched as you let out a string of and whines and moans, little curses slipping between. he watched with fascination as you came undone right beneath him, not wanting to wait any longer to be inside you. he shoved the toy deep inside you, leaving it there as he leaned back for a moment to discard his clothes, slipping his hoodie and sweatpants off.

when you were brought back to your senses, you found yourself on his lap again, straddling his hips this time as he sat with his back against your headboard. you felt his erectile straining against his boxers and pressing against your core. you couldn’t help but rock your hips against his slowly.

“do you ever ride your pillow?” he asked suddenly, voice dropped what felt like two octaves lower than his regular tone. your eyes widened at the question but you nodded. he nodded too, his hands finding your ass and helping you grind against his clothes length. “this is a lot like that, except you have something in you… and it’s more of an up and down movement… and i’m obviously not a pillow… still, there’s really no right way to do it, just go slow and you’ll figure out what works and what doesn’t. plus, i’m here to guide you.”

he gave your ass a squeeze as if to punctuate his sentence, massaging the soft flesh in his palms. when you felt ready, you dropped your hands from his shoulders to his boxers, palming his length a few times before hooking your fingers into the fabric and dragging it down until his cock sprung out.

he definitely wasn’t lying when he said it would stretch you more than the already-big dildo. he was definitely a lot bigger than anyone else you’ve been with, well over average. you nearly dropped at the sight, wrapping your hand around him and jerking him off, eyes fixated on the angry red tip leaking precum as you passed your thumb over it.

the muscles of his abs rippled and squeezed as your worked your hands on his cock, his head thrown back against the headboard and letting out stuttering moans. all the sounds he made encourage you to sit up on your knees, guiding him through your folds and whimpering as you finally sank down on him carefully.

the two of you moaned at the same time, him at how well you squeezed around him and you at how well he stretched you. you stopped when you reached just halfway, unsure whether or not you’d be able to fit more. his hips jerked slightly as his hands squeezed your hips.

“come on, baby,” he moaned softly, looking up at you with encouraging eyes, “just a little more… we can make it fit, right? just breathe.”

you nodded and as you took a deep breath, he used his hold on your to sink you further down until he finally bottomed out. he cursed silently, the back of his head finding the headboard again as you whined and dropped yours onto his shoulder.

you felt his tip pushing against your cervix, the new feeling making a lump form in your throat as you blinked back tears. this time it took a while to get used to the stretch before you tried grinding back and forth. it was slow, almost painfully so. he was amazed that despite stretching you with two different things, you were still so unbelievably tight, hugging him in a death grip as your raised your hips an inch before dropping down again.

your soft noises were muffled by his shoulder as your hands rested on his biceps, panting and squeezing gently as every inch of him dragged against the sensitive spongy patch in your walls every time you grinded on him. soon enough you were able to lift yourself to his tip and drop all the way down, your wetness letting him slip in and out with ease.

still, you kept the pace torturously slow, savouring each bounce and grind. his hands had left your hips at some point, exploring your body under your shirt, massaging your breasts and tweaking your nipples. he lifted the fabric but kept it on your as he watched your tits bounce temptingly, your puffy pink nipples making his mouth water as he pushed himself forward to take one into his mouth.

your hips stuttered as he sucked and nibbled at your nipples, throwing your head back and arching into his touch as your grinds grew sloppy. he felt your decreasing pace, using the hand that wasn’t teasing your other breast to guide your hips once more. he angled you slightly differently in a way that made your clit press against his pelvis each time he bottomed out, the speed of your grinds picking up quickly as his hips bucked up to meet yours.

his lips detached from your bruised breasts with a popping sound as he leaned up to capture your lips in his once again. it wasn’t much of a kiss, more teeth and tongue and moans and groans than anything else as you swallowed each other’s sounds.

you finished first, pushing yourself down hard and stilling, filling yourself with his throbbing cock and pressing your clit against him. he held you tightly, burying his face in your neck to suck at all the spot he knew would get your to writhe. many tickling fights contributed to his knowledge on all your sensitive spots.

your body twitched as you returned to bouncing on his length, your juices looking at his base. the overstimulation burned a little, making your thighs and knees quiver, but you were determined to get him to finish too. and by the looks of it, it shouldn’t take much longer.

“shit, baby,” he said, halfway between a whimper and a moan, fingertips digging into your hips as he threw his head back in bliss, “‘m so close— fuck, you feel s-so good.”

his chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, bottom lip caught between his teeth. his cheeks and the tip of his ears flushed a deep red, his plush lips a few shades darker and coated in your mixed saliva from your kisses. as you adjusted the angle of your hips, something in him snapped, grabbing your hips tighter and taking over. he took over your movements, thrusting his hips up desperately as you fell forward onto his chest with the sudden change in intensity. his tip pushed itself against your g-spot continually, another knot tightening in your stomach.

the wet sounds of your cunt and your skin slapping against his egged him on until finally he felt like he couldn’t hold back any longer.

“baby, p-please— fuck— please, can i cum i-inside you?” he begged through a groan, “i— please, angel, i-i can’t wait any longer.”

you nodded against his chest with a whine, you were on the pill anyway. not a second later, he released into you, filling you up with stuttering hips. he pulled you down, flush against him and keeping you there as he emptied himself with softly muttered curses, his head dropping to press open-mouthed kisses to your shoulder.

it felt new to you, the warmth making you squirm until you came again without warning. it was much weaker this time but still enough to make you shake in his arms, panting softly after letting out a strangled moan against his skin.

after a few long moments of trying to recover from the shared orgasm, he lifted his head, one of his hands cupping your chin to tilt your head to look at him.

“so,” he started, lips stretched into a smile, “how’d that feel?”

“fucking amazing.” you rolled your eyes at how smug he looked after your confession, not protesting as he leaned forward to kiss you.

this one was much softer than the previous kisses you shared, much more tender. it was a lot shorter too, he pulled away first to rest his forehead against yours.

“yeah?” he whispered, kissing the corner of your lips, “just wait until i hit it from the back.”

networks. @cromernet @wonderlandnet @cultofdionysusnet @pirateeznet

permanent taglist. @ad0rechuu @sankatchu @mlink64 @yeosangsbb @seonghwasbbgirl @likexaxdaydream @dreamingofyeo @yalyallic @yunhoswrldddd @coffee-addict-kitten @thunderous-wolf @chngbnwf

[mostly-imagines]

Banished

jason todd x fem!reader

aka jason misses his girlfriend

warnings: extremely mild angst, he’s just mopey (he’s fine)

Jason sits slumped over the kitchen island, head lying in his crossed arms. His now soggy cereal disregarded after barely a few bites.

Dick’s been rummaging through the cabinets for the better part of twenty minutes and Tim sits atop of the nook table shoving donuts in his mouth for the better part of thirty.

Damian trudges past them to the nook bench, taking out a knife and beginning to whittle away at a block of wood.

He glances at Jason with a scowl. “If you’re going to be so miserable, can’t you do it in your own home?”

Jason just grunts.

He wishes. You and Bruce had conspired to trap him at the mansion for the week so he could heal from injuries sustained during the last mission without risk of him suiting up and sneaking away from you in the middle of the night.

It’s not even the fact that he’s basically being babysat that’s got him so disgruntled. He wouldn’t mind it at all if you were here too. But you were dead set that the manor was too far out of your way for work, so you’d stay behind. A lose-lose for Jason.

“He’s just mad his girlfriend kicked him out.” Dick teases, swiping through the fridge.

Tim snorts from the doorway, “Me too. He’s a lot more depressing on his own.”

Jason kept his head down as he blindly reached for the spoon in his cereal and chucked it at Tim’s head.

Tim catches it without thought, continuing, “A lot more irritable, at least. Why isn’t she here?”

“She’s gotta work.” Dick says, scanning through the pantry.

Damian peeps his head up from his project. “But Todd has a rather large supply of less than legally obtained money, does he not?”

“Yeah, but she said she wants to pay her own rent, I think.” Dicks hums, finally giving up on his quest for a snack.

Damian pauses.

“So she wants to live in a tiny apartment?” He asks, a mixture of confused and horrified.

“Watch your mouth.” Jason mumbles.

“It was a genuine question!” Damian protests, face screwed up.

Jason finally lifts his head up, turning to his little brother with a raised brows. “And I’m genuinely going to break your nose.”

It’s an empty threat, maybe. But it was enough to shut Damian up anyways. Jason turns back to his cereal and swishes the bowl around.

Dick rests his arms on the counter across from Jason and speaks lowly. “You know, it is just a few days. She’s coming back.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Jason was never one for showing his feelings—let alone talking about them.

He misses you, plain and simple. Dick could see that much clearly, though the longing looked unfamiliar on Jason.

Bruce lingers in the hallway, just past the island, listening.

He’ll admit (to himself) that he’s worried about Jason. It’s been three days and Jason has yet to show a crack in this demeanor. And while it’s not uncommon for him to stow himself away, there is something quite wrong with the way he hasn’t countered his brother’s jabs at him or teased them.

And while he could do without the blatant threats, he’s proud to hear his son defending his girlfriend, even over trivial things. It’s one of the few moments where he feels like he did right by him as a father.

And now here’s his son, caring about someone else more than he cares about himself. Someone who’s a good person, no less. It had been your idea to trick Jason into staying at the manor, you were scared that he would push his body past its limit when you couldn’t do anything to help.

Bruce knew you didn’t feel great about basically banishing him for the week but he could see that you just wanted what was best for Jason. He could see it so clearly. Maybe Bruce could never have been a perfect father, could never have given his son everything he needed despite having more money than he could ever use. Maybe he couldn’t help him, even now.

But you could.

Bruce peers around the corner, leaning up against the doorframe.

He watches Damian give up on carving at his block and start into the leg of the table.

He watches the bickering that broke out after Tim grab the last glazed donut, which was apparently the only thing Dick could possibly fathom eating.

And he watches Jason.

As Jason’s phone lights up on the counter next to him. He glances down at it with a frown before his face absolutely lights up.

He scrambles to pick the phone up and starts typing away. A quiet action that catches the attention of all of his brothers.

He types and types, waits for ten seconds for a response and types and types again—smile on his face.

The Waynes didn’t need to be the greatest detectives in the world to know who he was texting.

[tteokdoroki]

aali do u think jock!yuuji makes his virgin gf cum on the tip of his cock or like,,,,,,

𖤐๋࣭ — JOCK BF!YUUJI ENTRY #8. just the tip.

about. our favourite jock takes his special girlfriend’s virginity. well…kind of.

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! nsfw, smut, virginity loss, just the tip, oral sex (f!receiving), fingering, praise, jock bf!itadori, weird gf + fem!reader.

omg !! i feel like jock bf!yuuji (especially if he’s the more experienced one) is fully aware of his size and how it might cause a little more pain for someone who’s a virgin. the first few times that you have sex, he spends a good portion of time between your thighs, suckling on your clit and fingering you nice and slow so that you’re all wet n stretched out for him.

yuuji makes you cum at least twice that way before he even thinks about bringing his cock into the picture :( he doesn’t want to hurt his pretty baby.

he settles on a pussy job to make you cum once last time before he puts it in. often sliding the length of his girth through your slicked up folds while he watches your face because he knows it probably feels good for you — the gentle thrusts and the way his sticky tip catches on your swollen little clit. sometimes yuuji is a little more calculated, letting it poke at your quivering hole just to see if you can take it, just to hear you mewl.

“‘m gonna put a lil bit in now, okay honey? not much, i know you’re scared. ‘m gonna take good care of you.” sobs, it takes everything for yuuji not to buck his hips and thrust all the way into you after you give him your consent — he keeps it slow, fisting the pillows either side of your head as he grinds his bulbous and red hot cockhead past your entrance. “don’t squeeze down, baby. ease up, you’re a little tense… that’s it. good girl, there we go…” he guides you through it, instructions breathed out warmly against the shell of your ear until you’re oh so full of cockhead n you feel like you could bust again :(

he plays with your clit, spreading your wetness over the pulsating nub in sync with yuuji’s gentle thrusts into your heat — not too hard and not too deep, he just wants you to get used to him inch by inch. you’re in tears when you cum again, but you’ve done so well and itadori can’t help but kiss his praises into your sweaty hairline.

“well done, honey. you did so well for me. next time, we’ll try a little more. yeah?”

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.