#(maybe I'll throw in some more here and there who knows)
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Feeding Alligators 63 - I'll Cry if I Want To
You get drunk. Guess who comes lurking?
On AO3.
Getting shit-faced. That is what wine’s good for.
The night’s real pretty. Y’all are inside the grove, all the goblins’re fucking dead, and the druids ain’t gonna let…let fucking wargs or mean bears in here. So it’s safe. There’s a rock digging into your left ass cheek, and you cannot be fucked to do nothing about it. But you’re safe! So it’s fine.
You take another gulp. People say when you got enough alcohol, you don’t notice then taste no more, but those fuckers’re lying liars who fucking lie, and it still tastes like bitter…bitter piss.
Bitch burns, too.
“Shit is gross,” you say to nobody. “The fuck do people drink this?”
Probably cause it makes you warm. And vaguely floating. Your muscles seem to burn a lot more, but you’re still kinda happy. Not like, sing and flail around the living room happy, but happy enough the last…week? Ish? Whatever. The night is pretty. An owl hoots and squirrels run along branches. Bugs creak and hum and a crow in the trees above lets out a sleepy “crk.”
“Sorry!” you say. Realize you’re shouting. Whisper, “Sorry.”
Crows keep grudges, huh? You heard about that. Should let the little dude to back to sleep.
Probably shouldn’t be out in the woods by yourself?
Whatever.
Another gulp. Your whole face wrinkles.
“I thought you didn’t drink?” says a fucking rat man.
You turn. The woods spin a little, and you gotta blink before the two, pale silhouettes become one bastard man.
“’Sa party,” you say. “Errbody’s drinking.”
Why’s he here? You ain’t been gone long. Right? You’re pretty sure.
“How’s Lae’zel?” you say.
He winces. You’re shouting again.
You pitch your voice back down. “How’s Lae’zel?”
He gives you a look. It slides right on past you. “Jealous, dear?”
Your chest hurts again. Still for no fucking reason. “Pff. No. Just surprised how quick it was.”
For some reason, he pulls back in outrage (yeah! you recognize that one!). “Excuse me?”
“It ain’t nothing bad!” You only flail a little. Almost throw the wine bottle and then have to clutch it to your chest. Next to your soul flask. They clink through your shirt. “Just…y’know. ‘Fficient. You’re very efficient.”
He stands there like he’s trying to parse out what you’re saying. Did the potion wear off again? You gotta study more.
And who the fuck cares. You ain’t out here for him. You ain’t out here for nobody except to get shit-faced.
“Why are you out here alone?” rat bastard man says.
It probably ain’t supposed to be funny. Or maybe it just ain’t funny to him. Or anyone but you. But for you? You don’t drink, you don’t hookup, but you do plonk your ass down and get sloshed off a bottle and a half of wine all by your lonesome.
You want ice cream. You would literally kill a man for ice cream.
“If I didn’t know any better,” the bastard fuck boy says, “I’d say you look like you were trying to drink away your feelings.”
You squint up at him. White hair a silvery halo around his head in the moonlight. Eyes shining like new pennies in the low light. Fucker asks your opinion on who he ought to bang, and then finds you afterwards to…to fucking needle you?
You ain’t never been drunk like this. You flirted with getting mildly buzzed. Got borderline tipsy that once when Ryan fucking Meadows ghosted you and you ugly cried onto Sasha’s only clean work shirt.
None of that really processes, though. You ain’t really up to the whole “processing” thing right now; that barn door is long open and them hogs already sprinted for the hills.
“You’re such a dick,” you say, clicking the “k” at the end extra hard. “Pompous goddamn mess of a…of a man dick.”
He blinks like you just sprouted a beak and began reciting the entire works of Shakespeare in chicken.
And you ain’t done. “I got all the fucking reason to be off my damn ass out here, you shit. I lost my whole fucking family. Again. My whole fucking world. Fucking demons and brainworms and your ass. Maybe I just wanted to get drunk all by myself.”
You feel how dry your mouth is, and chug a few more swallows.
“Tastes like shit,” you say and try to scrape your tongue on your teeth. “Don’t know why anybody drinks it.”
Astarion still stands there. Fucking creepo. He’ll get all huffy and leave; toss you some snide bullshit before he goes. Jackass.
Only he don’t. He…lowers himself down. Not right next to you, but within kicking distance.
You think about doing just that.
“What even is that swill?” he says.
You look at the label. At the swirly-spiky letters all swooping together. Turn to him, with the most deadpan expression you can muster, and say, “What’s up, I’m Jared, I’m nineteen, and I never fucking learned how to read.”
It is, hands down, the best joke you ever made in your whole life. You bend over laughing. You cry, laughing. Your bladder twinges and you keep laughing.
But then something happens. And you’re still laughing, and your eyes is watering, but now it hurts. Now you can’t breathe and nobody else is laughing with you cause they don’t get the joke and never will because your world is dead. Not like, actually. But they might as well be.
And like hell you want Astarion to fucking see that. So you shove the bottle at him and turn away like it’s just the giggles. Ain’t nothing to see here. Just a giggly drunk.
No one is ever gonna get your jokes. Ain’t nobody gonna know what “Wednesday my dudes” is. Or the helium balloons. Or the yoga grinch.
Oh fuck. Oh fuck oh fuck.
Wine sloshes in the bottle. Astarion somehow gives an audible grimace.
“I think you grabbed the worst of them, darling. This is pure vinegar.”
You don’t turn around. You try to shove the goddamn sniffles back in your face. You don’t cry in front of other people. That shit ain’t safe. It’s how everybody knows how weak and stupid you are, and you are not gonna give this jackass that ammunition.
But it keeps coming. The smell of the red dirt after a hard rain. Homemade pecan custard pie. Uncle Randy was gonna take you to the Cherokee Days this fall. You was gonna try to learn basket weaving. The old style.
And you up and disappeared on him. On all of them.
Again.
Only this time, you ain’t coming back. This time, you ain’t gonna find no pink bicycle waiting for you cause you ain’t never gonna come crunching back over that red gravel. Never gonna smell them rich pecan trees, and bitch about Uncle Randy’s nasty cigarettes.
This is what you do, ain’t it? You disappear. You run off. You leave your family. All of your family, even the piece of shit parts over and over and over.
The tears coat your cheeks. You swipe at them furiously.
The wine sloshes again.
“Our gith friend had other plans for the evening,” Astarion says after…you don’t know.
You glance up and the sky spins above you. Fuck, you’re gonna make yourself sick you keep this up.
Deep breath in, deep breath out.
“That sucks,” you say.
He makes a startled, snorting sound. “There was none of that, actually. And that’s the problem.”
Ah. Ye-awp. That’d do it. That’d be why he’s here with you. His prospect failed, so now he’s come back to you. The easy one.
You sigh and finally lose your fight with gravity and flop onto your side. You wave vaguely over your shoulder.
“Go find one of them tieflings, then,” you say. “They can’t all be paired off.”
You’re tired, actually. Desperately so. The grass is nice and soft, and it’s safe out here, right?
Something shuffles. A rhythmic swish of grass. It’s the change in the air that alerts you. He don’t radiate body heat cause he don’t got none. But he is…surrounded by something a lot like a static field.
You look up to see him on all fours over you, peering down. Not like, over you, over you, it’s just his head. He wears no expression. Just…looks at you.
Have you ever seen him like this before?
“You didn’t seek any playmates of your own,” he says. And who the fuck talks like that?
“I got.” You start to lift your hand to waggle your remaining wine bottle, but your hands is empty. Ah fuck. “I had wine.”
“But you didn’t need to drink by yourself, darling. Both the cleric and the wizard would have gladly followed you out here.”
Well he certainly did.
Still, that blank face. Not, like, shuttered blank. Just…open. Or empty. It’s just his face.
…you should just tell him. All’ve this would be so easy if you just fucking told him. But he dumped you. He’s probably one of them guys who gets real weird when he finds out you’re thirty-five and are the sole provider of your own orgasms.
And it shouldn’t fucking matter.
“Didn’t want to,” you say. And do not elaborate.
Leaving the ball in his court. He fumbles with it. Stares at you like you just tossed him a soggy potato.
You’re kinda curious to see what he does with it.
His eyes narrow. You think he frowns. But it ain’t a pissy frown. It’s a thinking frown. And too late you remember that this bastard clues in on your plans real fast. That he seems to have a decent read on things (that ain’t trying to get into your pants).
Oh fuck.
“You haven’t dabbled with any of our merry band,” he says. Is that thoughtful? He sounds thoughtful. Shit on a goddamn cracker.
Um.
“And you saved me back at that goblin camp,” you say. And give yourself a mental high five, cause if he wants to delve into shit you don’t wanna talk about, take a reverse fucking uno card, jackass!
But he don’t dodge or parry, this time. He fucking leans in. You breathe in some of his own exhale and feel your cheeks begin to warm (through the booze).
“And what if I did?” he says, voice just shy of a whisper.
Oh. You didn’t expect that. Shit. What’s the play here? Uh.
“I’d thank you,” you say.
The sky spins above him. He’s the only steady thing in your vision.
“Is that all?” he says. Y’all are totally sharing lung air now, and his whisper gives you a goddamn ASMR shiver.
Except you’re drunk. And he’s way too close. And the shivers quiver down to your belly. The sky spins faster.
“What if I told you,” Astarion breathes, “that I’ve been thinking about our night together ceaselessly—”
Your stomach lurches.
Oh. That ain’t a shiver or a booze buzz or Astarion. You make some awful gagging sound, wrench up and to the side, and bring up about a bottle and a half of wine.
#feeding alligators fic#these two shitheads#astarion#astarion x tav#tavstarion#bg3#baldur's gate iii#plus size tav#demisexual tav#slow burn#the disclosure arc
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the one thing i feel pretty certain about for this episode is that america will not decide the election. a decision will be made, a president will be elected, but america will not be the deciding factor.
succession can’t mimic 2016 or 2020 point blank, that would be boring and have nothing to say. it can’t try to outdo trump because it’ll go too whacky and fall flat like veep’s last season (sorry conheads, no way he’s winning). but what it CAN do is illustrate the immensely corrupt, often arbitrary, and hugely influential nature of news media and conglomerations on political processes. i think probably jimenez will be in the lead, then atn/waystar does something to, i don’t know, discount votes or cast suspicion on jimenez or call the election for mencken early, and the tide will shift, even though the votes are already in. the votes don’t actually matter. the actual result doesn’t actually matter. that’s the power logan (and as an extension, billionaires and CEOs in general) hold. shiv says it herself to logan in s4e2: “just cause you say it’s true doesn’t make it true. everyone just fucking agrees with you and believes you, so it becomes true and then you can turn around and say like, 'oh, you see? see? i was right.'” but it doesn’t matter that logan’s “a human fucking gaslight,” everything he says comes true anyways. not because he was right, but because that’s how it works. he says things and then they happen, regardless of what the truth is or what should actually come to pass. that’s been one of the key throughlines since the very first episode of the entire show when, in response to kendall calling logan out of touch because times are changing and logan isn't changing with them, logan hisses that everyone always says you’re wrong until you do it and prove you were right: “you make your own reality.” you can't miss the bus if you're the one driving it. the election, the votes, the political process? none of that matters. it was always going to come down to the roys and their ilk (allies or enemies, just the top 1%) — that was the whole point of “what it takes” (the mencken episode) last season, after all.
i’ve seen lots of theories about what america will choose and how the candidates will respond and all that and i just don’t think that’s the show’s focus; i think the whole point is to demonstrate the lack of agency, the illusion of democracy. because, i mean, we’ve already seen the fall of democracy via fascist election and fascist election-denial, both in real life and in the countless (usually mid) satires created afterwards. it would be disappointing to see succession use the election to reiterate that same point of 'ohhh alt-right ahhhhh!!!' i don’t think it’ll be about ‘fascism’ at all — at least, not ‘trump-y’ fascism. it’ll be about fascism in the broader sense, the kind that doesn't sport a KKK hood (even when it keeps one tucked away in the attic). it's the fascism that every single roy (very much including shiv and kendall) aid and abet -- the fascism that so many succession fans don't seem to regard as fascism, despite it quite literally being the definition of fascism. trump wasn’t the entrance of fascism into our political process. he wasn’t the lone sign of the failing of american democracy. democracy in america has long been illusory, trump just made it more blatantly evident with his particular brand of hate-speech-ridden masculinist in-your-face fascism.
so i think that’s what this episode will hopefully focus on — america will not decide. corporations, news media, and the roys will. thus, the president will most likely become president not because the country supports his policies the most, but because he’s likely to agree to help block a business deal for a major media empire, and the other candidate is unlikely to. and this will likely come to pass due to said major media empire's interference and influence: they create their own reality. they say it, and everyone agrees with them and believes them, so it becomes true.
#WOOF okay here's my unnecessary ~thematic prediction~ for this episode#i have some more like random thoughts ab what'll happen but those r less thought out and more throwing shit at the wall etc#but i've been thinking a lot ab this ep n idk i just can't see any other way it could be done satisfyingly -- they can't just do 2016/2020#again. the focus has to be elsewhere. i have some specifics thoughts on details but again those r kinda random n will be in another post#after bizarrely getting a lot of things right this szn i know a lot of people are looking to me to see what i'll say for this ep and let me#remind yall that I AM LITERALLY JUST GUESSING BASED ON MY UNDERSTANDING OF THE SHOW AND HOW NARRATIVES#TEND TO WORK PARTICULARLY IN SUCCESSION! if i am wrong which i very well might be please do not crucify me. i know literally#nothing more than anyone else i'm just a random english/gov major who likes speculating about media ! that said if i end up right again#somehow then yes i am a prophet i am jesse armstrong i have never been wrong about anything in my life. etc#watch this age so poorly tho.#LOL#also fwiw i dont think the Shock etc is going to come from the election results - maybe possibly from the way things happen (i could see a#line of miscommunication resulting in fucked up outcomes etc which i can get into in another post) or a roy sibs moment but i just#don't think there's any way the results themselves cld be surprising. it's jimenez or mencken. it's not gonna be connor guys.#succession#succession spoilers#except not really. just succession speculation more than anything else#long post#succession speculation#100
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Hello Pokémon SWSH fandom
disappears from the fandom's eyes for another undisclosed amount of time
#Pokemon#Pokemon SWSH#Pokemon Sword and Shield#Leon Pokemon#Pokemon Leon#Digital Art#My Art#Pechadoodles#I've missed drawing him (no I did not‚ he is still a pain to figure out how to draw)#I come back to the swsh tag to throw in my silly lil sketch and then I run out immediately#(maybe I'll throw in some more here and there who knows)#I never really leave a fandom- if I'm not being 'active' just assume I'm in my lurking phase-#also WOW my art progress from my last Leon drawing vs this latest one is VERY apparent#I've improved so much- I'm proud of myself-#anyways yeah haha don't mind me if I just randomly post swsh content every now and then- it's my comfort game okay-
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#heyyyyyyy it's ya girl lucy back again with another vent poooooost#filling out some tags here so it shows up as a see more button#one more ought to do it. gonna be kinda heavy this time don't keep reading if you ain't got the spoons#anyway. man. I'm an emotional wreck#like. fuck. I keep crying so much if anyone is even a little nice to me#hundred reasons why it might be the case#frankly though? I don't.... Care#I just know I hurt.#....i... I just know no matter how often people tell me they care it doesn't stick#I know I feel like a faker#I know I feel like I've tricked everyone into liking me#I know I can feel some of them regretting it#a growing part of me wants to throw myself off a cliff#the rest of me knows I'm.ttoo chicken to ever self harm or attempt to end things#so I'm just stuck here#wanting it all to stop#unable to make it do so#and I hope I'll feel better having said something even to nobody#who knows maybe I will#I dunno.#..........i just......#....... I just feel like a liar#and that shakes me to my core#cuz I don't lie. I can't. I won't. And yet.....#........anyway I'm cutting it here cuz I'm so tired#if you managed to read this far. Um. I love you.#.....i don't blame anyone who ignored it either
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fuck dude i have got to find a job where i can be self-employed and creative. i cannot be in fucking retail hell anymore
#she bork#tbd#like now i don't deal w customers which is cool but now that i work at like a big retail store and not a little mall outlet the pressure is#insane. and i have bosses who never say good job or thank you and who have set me up to fail by throwing a department on me that i was not#hired to run or trained for and frankly don't have time to run properly either. so every week just starts w me in our weekly meeting being a#fucking piñata like 'why didn't you get this done 🤨 you need to manage your time better 🤨 you're losing sales 🤨' and i'm like i'm trying!!!!#what more can i do!!!!!! and then the side of it i actually kind of enjoy (which is what i was originally hired to do) is very very hard on#my body bc it's a very physical job (i run the team that unloads the trucks every day and like i'm usually helping unload bc i'm not just#gonna stand there and watch while my team busts their asses lol) and now i'm finding out that it's actually not normal to wake up every day#w your joints screaming and stiff and that i might have a chronic condition (doctor is thinking some sort of chronic inflammatory arthritis#but i won't know if my imaging and blood tests showed anything until like mid-june) and i'm like. so even the part of my job that i don't#mind as much is not good bc it's like actively destroying my body. okay sick 🤠 and i don't wanna quit bc i've only been there for like#eight months and this job would be really valuable on a resume but i don't want it to look like i'm a job hopper or like i'm fickle or#unreliable. so i'm stuck here for a while i think. but the pressure is destroying me mentally and i know i need to find a position somewhere#else that is 1. not fucking goddamn retail bc retail will always be hell and 2. not management bc i don't see myself ever really getting#into upper management but lower/middle management gets shit on the most so if i go somewhere else and end up in middle management i'll be#right back to wanting to kill myself in a matter of months. basically i'm tired of expectations and pressure and stress and i'm tired of#waking up at fucking 2:30 every morning just to go in and get shit on and destroy my body all over something that in the end i do not fuckin#care about. i need to make art and be held accountable by only myself. idk i've been toying w the idea of learning how to tattoo and trying#to start establishing some artistic skill so maybe eventually i can do that? not now bc the economy sucks and that's scary lol and anyway i#have to give myself some time to actually learn the skill and perfect a style. but it makes decent money (at least before the expense of#supplies and taxes) and allows you to travel and still work and also it would be fun. and i could tattoo myself so it would cut some#expenses for me since i cannot stay away from the damn needle. idk lol i need to save some money before i buy a tattoo gun or anything but#i'm considering it bc i am going fucking crazy rn and ik this feeling will leave me eventually but i also know it will come back bc it#always does. and i'm tired of just surviving and just making it through every day and every week like i want to be happy and this is just#not doing it for me anymore#ugh fuck why couldn't i have been born w a brain that likes numbers and code and technology. i love being an artist but it makes finding a#sustainable career really difficult bc i feel so restless and miserable when i'm stuck in a passionless job but my passions are not#particularly profitable. hate it here why wasn't i born a capybara no job no responsibility just squint and squeak and sun
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I NEEEEEED MORE STRIPPER!READER X SPENCER
fem, 1.2k
You and Spencer aren't dating, but he thinks you might be in the before.
"You're home!" you say, clambering at the door to slip out of your shoes. You throw yourself at him as soon as you're close enough, the salted caramel and sandalwood of your new perfume washing over him. "You're here! I missed you."
Spencer tries not to blush. He wishes you weren't so close —his hair is lank from two days unwashed, his five o'clock shadow obvious and embarrassing. If you notice anything unappealing about him you don't give the slightest inclination, your arms crossing over his back as you drive your face into his neck.
"I can't believe how much I missed you, Dr. Reid," you say warmly.
"I missed you too." Morgan would laugh at him for being this earnest, maybe comment on his lack of charisma, but Spencer doesn't know how else to show that he's interested beyond sincerity.
You step back but work your hands up his neck and into his hair, raking it away from his cheeks. "That's better. I can see you better now."
Spencer thought he remembered only horrible things from being a teenager, but he remembers this feeling, sweaty-palmed, heart-racing want. You tilt his head gently one way and then the other like you're following the motion of a wave, fingertips scratching in his hair, the sensation stirring the very pit of his stomach. No trace of tiredness remains on your face, only spritely joy to see him.
"That feels nice," he confesses. He's not weird about it, more friendly.
Your aswering grin tells him he nailed the casualness he was aiming for.
"You've been working hard," you say, tucking his hair behind his ears and dusting down his shoulders, "I can tell. You look tired."
"You don't. Short shift?"
"Is it weird that bad weather genuinely keeps people home? I guess they prefer their wives when it's cold."
"No, really? Who could ever pick the woman they married over you and those silver shorts?" he teases, peeling out of his sweater.
The shirt underneath is rumpled, but he doesn't care about that. Anything to be seen between you has been seen. Spencer has, unquestionably, seen you half naked. You've seen him in his boxers, so you're just about square. "Idiots, all of them."
You're staying with him again while a security company fits your apartment with the appropriate trappings. Or, that was the initial reason. Spencer went with you to assess after it was done, discovering black mould in the corner of your bedroom and spreading its evil way across the bathroom ceiling.
What is that? he asked, knowing what it was, hoping you'd at least pretend to be concerned.
That's fifty bucks off a month, Spence. Don't look so horrified.
"I missed you," you say for the third time in as many minutes. "And I hoped you'd be home, so I brought Chinese food for two."
You and Spencer change into pyjamas, and it's cliche but whatever, you look beautiful undone —he's not stupid enough to lie to himself about how he feels when you're wearing your little outfits, but he prefers this side of you a thousand times over because you like it better. You wear your prized baseball tee, white with blue sleeves, and a pair of sweatpants pushed up high on one leg while you ice your sore knee. He sits cross legged opposite, jabbing his chopsticks into one of your crispy spring rolls just to watch you gasp.
"Can I ask you something too personal?"
You rub down the length of your naked calf, sighing as some of the tension releases. You're more bruise than girl lately, splodges of tender skin patterning the inside. "What don't you know about me, at this point?" you ask.
Like it's a good thing. Like you're glad for it.
"Are you making enough money?" he asks.
You steal back your spring roll, answering him through rice paper and greens, "Kind of. Not tonight, but enough for dinner. I'll be okay."
"Did you think about it?"
You shovel through your waxy box of rice, shrugging. "I thought about it, but… it's not realistic. What office would take me? What drug store?"
"I could loan you the money while you apprentice, and get some experience, you could go back to school–" He says it all in a rush and you still knock him down.
"It's real sweet of you, Spence, it is, but I couldn't let you do that. That makes me your charity case, and not your friend."
"What else do you do for the people you care about?" he asks. Let them stay at a job they don't like, even if they're good at it, one that puts them statistically at higher risk for femicide or assault?
"I wouldn't need a loan, Spencer, I'd need more than you have," you say gently. "I'd have to start my life from scratch. How would I pay rent? You couldn't afford to keep us both."
"You could stay with me again."
You shake your head. "You're the best friend I've ever had, which is why I'm saying no."
He doesn't get what you mean, but you finish your dinner and help him clean up. He more than trusts you to stay here alone while he's on a case, you've honestly left it in better condition than you found it, and he insists you sleep in his bed again while you're here.
"Don't be silly," you say, throwing a sheet out over the couch. "This is your place. You need to sleep in your own bed."
The disaster is that it smells like you. Spencer says goodnight to you reluctantly and leaves you on the couch with every throw blanket he owns, climbing into his own bed and pulling the comforter up to his nose. He imagines you here at night, your body wash still clinging to your skin from a late night shower, your hand tucked under his pillow. There are so many things he'd like to give you, if you'd just let him.
He spends a quiet thirty minutes like that, missing the warmth of your skin and your casual touching, wishing he could offer you the fresh start you desire, even if it meant he wasn't involved.
The couch springs creak as you toss and turn, the sound finding it's way down the short hall from the living room slash kitchen to his bedroom. Hesitant, Spencer shifts in bed, hitting that one coil in his mattress just right, the twang resounding.
You appear in his doorway with your borrowed pillows crushed to your chest not long after that. You don't need to ask, Spencer doesn't need to answer. He can't give you everything that you want, but he can give you a quiet, comfortable night next to someone who loves you.
Ever well-tempered, you slip into the sheets beside him and curl up toward him, your fingertips brushing his side. You don't look at him in the dark, but you mumble sleepily, fingers twitching, "Night, Spence."
You're out like a light.
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid oneshot#spencer reid scenario#spencer reid drabble#spencer reid fic#spencer reid fanfiction#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds#criminal minds fic#criminal minds x reader
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When you have plushies
Pairing: Ot8!skz × Gn!reader (individually)
Genre: fluff, reactions
Request: so if skz had a partner who sleeps / collects plushies??? maybe also add a little where the reader is a tad bit embarrassed of it?
Warnings: none
A/n: if you saw this when I posted it for the first time no you didn't!
Bang Chan
Y'KNOW THAT LAUGH OF HIS
The one that's so adorable and it looks like a giggle while his eyes are like crescent moons
THAT ONE
It's the one he gives you while he tries to understand that somehow he is dating the most adorable human being in the whole world
He literally has no problem if you want to sleep with them, will reassure you when it comes to that
"Do you think I can take one of your plushies with me for the tour? It'd make me feel closer to you"
Lee Know
Of course he will tease you
That's like one of the things that are included in his boyfriend package: relentless teasing
He will stop immediately if he sees that you aren't feeling it though
Will take a picture of you cuddling your favourite teddy bear and set it as his phone's wallpaper
AND will buy you some plushies and put them in his dorm
So you can feel more comfortable even when you're away from your own collection
Will never admit but he cuddles with it when he misses you
"Dori was sleeping with the plushie I bought for you. I'm going to send you a pic"
Changbin
Now that he knows, there is nothing stopping him from buying you thousands of plushies
Your collection will double in less than a month if you let him (please let him)
Might even buy some matching ones so you guys can share something in common
But he'll feel a little betrayed if you don't cuddle him to sleep and instead hug the teddy bear
"Why are you cuddling a plushie when you have me right here?? Like, c'mon now!!"
Hyunjin
You know those things where you can make a teddy bear from scratch and then gift it to someone?
He would do that for you😭
Would probably gift you a personalised plushie in your first valentine's
But overall he finds it adorable
Laughs endearingly every time he sees you sleeping while cuddling one
But will not lose the opportunity to replace the plushie and hug you throughout the night
"Would you rather have a dog or a bear as a plushie? No specific reason"
Han
Wants to give names to some of them lmao
And finds you 200% cuter because of it
Like, he knew you were adorable but you always surpass his expectations somehow
And if you get embarrassed abou it he finds you even cuter
But will make sure you don't have a reason to be embarrassed
He will throw himself in the pile of plushies, feeling like he's in heaven and making sure you knows he likes this side of you as well
"This one looks just like you! Oh my God, it's literally you"
Felix
HE LOVES IT
And he would be so casual about it as well??
Like, you'd be kinda scared of his reaction but then he's just the kindest about this
Wants to know about their names and stories you might have about them
The kind of guy who'd stitch one of them if they need to get repaired (I love him btw)
Tries to win plushies for you in those claw machines
"Which one do you want? I'll win it for you"
Seungmin
Is kinda intimidated at first lmao
Like I can see him just standing still while an army of plushies stare at his soul 😭
After the initial shock though I think he'd find it cute
Especially if there is a plushie who kinda looks like him/his skzoo
If that's the case he'll just tease you (while finding it so endearing)
"You should name this one 'Minnie'"
"I'm not naming every single one of my plushies after you"
"Why not?"
I.N
I think he wouldn't react at first, but mostly because he doesn't know what to do
Will you get sad if he teases you? Will you get embarrassed if he says it's cute?
He ends up not saying anything lol
Acts like he sees a huge collection of plushies every day
Might give you some plushies as gifts after finding out
"I just bought a very cute teddy bear in Japan. I'm giving it to you once I come back home."
Dividers by @cafekitsune
Reblogs and feedback are always appreciated!
#for all the people who have plushies because you guys are the best#celi drabbles#stray kids#skz fluff#skz#stray kids fluff#stray kids soft hours#stray kids soft thoughts#skz x reader#skz x you#stray kids x reader#bang chan#bang chan fluff#lee know#lee know fluff#changbin#changbin fluff#hyunjin#hyunjin fluff#han#han fluff#Felix#felix fluff#seungmin#seungmin fluff#i.n#i.n fluff#jeongin fluff
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How Mk1 Men Fuck You
CW: NSFW, gn!reader
Bi-Han is just mean about it, frankly. Teasing you, never exactly hitting the spot you need him to, close enough to feel it, but not enough to really do much. And don't bother begging with him. He'll just roll his eyes and scoff, wiping the tears from your eyes with his thumb and not doing anything to give you release.
"I've barely touched you... how are you that desperate already? Honestly, it's ridiculous. You'll get what you want, just be quiet."
When he finally fucks you, it's at a relentless pace, holding your hips in place as he thrusts into you. He's stopped the teasing now, and is wholly focused on making you fall apart in his arms.
Tomas just wants to make you happy. He begs to taste you, to let him touch you where he wants to. He whines at the slightest touch from you, and you both know that you're the only one who can elicit these reactions from him. He could spend forever between your thighs, seriously, he'd die happy there. He'll run his hands up and down your thighs while he gives you head, he has to be touching you.
"Ahh... you look so... like this, I mean- don't tease me! I'll come up with a good description, just... let me have this."
PLEASE hold his jaw and make him look at you while you ride him. Remind him that he's yours, and he'll practically melt. He'll likely be the more vocal out of the two of you, babbling about how good you feel.
Kuai Liang is possessive in bed, but how can you blame him? It's the place where you're his, completely. And maybe this is just me being insane over that skin where his hair is up, but but he likes when you pull his hair while he fucks into you. You can also run your nails along his back, and good luck to anyone who comments on it. He's yours, and you're his, and he wants sex with you to be a reminder of that. He likes being able to look at you while he fucks you, especially those lovely expressions you make.
"No, don't look away. Keep your eyes on me. I don't want to miss a second of this."
You didn't initially expect him to be so open with his feelings in bed, but he likes to be vulnerable with you. He feels safe with you, and he doesn't have to be anyone but yours.
When it comes to fast and hard, it's Johnny Cage. Sex with him is always so energetic, and you have to wonder where that energy comes from. Admittedly, it took some time in the relationship for him to be intimate or slow with you, but you got there. Even then, he just likes sex to be fun. He'll crack jokes, tease you, or randomly bite you when you're least expecting it. He'll thrust up into you while you ride him, just to be a dick and throw you off balance. Have I mentioned he's a brat? Because he's a brat.
"So. You come here often? Well, you're about to, and- hey, ow! I'm supposed to be on camera, you know."
When he's intimate and slow, though, he really is. He'll whisper praises in your ear, words so genuine that it makes you blush more than the things he's doing to you. Everything he's too afraid to say sometimes, it all falls apart when you're in his arms.
I'm SICK and TIRED of people saying that Raiden doesn't know anything about sex, etc. He is loving, tender, and occasionally giggly. He sees sex as another way to be near you and show you how much he loves you. He'll kiss you all over while he's inside you, and he loves to praise you. He likes to fuck you with you in his lap and your legs wrapped around his waist. It's perfect, really. He can go deep inside you and look at you at the same time.
"You look so perfect like this. I'll move, love, I promise, just let me watch you for a moment."
He can make you cum fast, but he chooses not to. He likes to draw out your pleasure. Less to tease, and more to make it last as long as possible. He wants to fall apart with you.
Kenshi is going to make you cum on his fingers before he even thinks about fucking you. He's infuriatingly good at it, too. He'll leave you gasping and moaning just from his fingers, and he can't help but smile smugly about it, which only makes it more frustrating. You can beg him to fuck you, but it won't work. That's happening when he decides to, and not a moment sooner. So you may as well get used to cumming on his fingers.
"You're seriously still begging? C'mon, you know it's not going to work. Still, it's nice hearing you like this."
When he finally fucks you, it's slow and rough, going as deep as possible with each stroke. He'll wrap his arms around you while he does, face pressed against your shoulders, muttering praises and teasing words against your skin.
#mortal kombat x reader#mortal kombat#mortal kombat 1#mortal kombat imagine#mk imagine#mortal kombat smut#johnny cage#johnny cage x reader#tomas vrbada#tomas vrbada x reader#bi han x reader#bi han#kuai liang x reader#kuai liang#raiden x reader#raiden#kenshi takashi x reader#kenshi takahashi
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Had the most random thought, but what if you caught Miguel by surprise and sneaked a kiss on the back of his neck when he's stressed out?
An: Don't mind me, just feeling soft for Miguel because he's corrupting my brain at the moment, lol. Also, wanted to write this to distract me from the fact Pleasurable Practice got smacked with a community label ffs. But, tysm for the love on that fic <33, and [MAYBE] I'll work on pt ii for next week! Thanks again, you lovelies, and enjoy!!
Edited Note: Also, here's an ATSV masterlist I made earlier for your convenience!!
Cw: Miguel x reader - fluff - stressed Miguel bc when is he not - you give him a kiss on the neck - pet names (amorcito/little love, mi alma/my soul; amor/my love) - just you and Miguel being adorbs and him being whipped hehe~
Wc: 902
"Aaaaaarrgh!!!"
You snap away from what you were doing to find where the noise came from. Not to your surprise, it's from your boyfriend — Miguel O'Hara, who's expressing his dismay by throwing another tray full of empty containers you got from the cafeteria.
The man is descending from his [godforsaken slow-ass] station, tapping his feet and huffing by the second. His brows are furrowed in anger, and he moves a hand to soothe his forehead with his fingers. When his post finally stops, he jumps down to sit on a chair and groans into his hands.
That was the third time this week. A villain was supposed to be captured and brought into the Spider Society to be sent back to their own universe; however, that was two days ago. And for some reason, this evil-doer has been hopping in and out of multiple universes. It's been a hassle for the other Spiders to grab hold of them; Lyla has to have eyes on them within every minute of every hour, and Miguel...Obviously, he would like to have this matter taken care of already.
You get up from where you're sitting and walk up behind Miguel, whose face is still covered by his hands with inaudible curses that you can tell are in Spanish. "You okay?"
The rise and fall of his broad shoulders entail a huge sigh seething out of his system. "No, mi amor." He frees his face only to rest his forehead with a hand propped by his leg. "This game of cat-and-mouse has been going on longer than necessary, got Spiders who're tired of the chase — I'm tired, yet there's more stuff piling up and—" He stops himself with another deep sigh, and you place your hands on his shoulders. "I just can't right now...."
All you can do is hum aimlessly while massaging his shoulders, his trapezius and deltoids tense with stress. You understand that a lot is going on for Miguel, giving him his space and letting him do what he does best: being a hero. But of course, being a superhero isn't all sunshine and rainbows, and you're bound to get hit with obstacles that'll hinder your progress. Annoyingly so, if you're a leader of an organization like your boyfriend.
Nevertheless, he's only one man, and you know he forgets this fact when he's too wrapped up in work. He's dedicated to protecting his peers, his home, and you. And although you appreciate the sentiment sincerely, you wish he'd remember to not go too hard on himself before he's burnt out.
You sigh through your nostrils, your hands kneading out any remnants of tension while Miguel indulges before storming back to work. That's when an idea hits you when your eyes land on the back ends of his hair, a smile creeping in slowly. Your hand brushes the lower tufts of his brown strands, and you lean down to press your soft lips on him after pulling his suit to expose his neck.
Immediately, Miguel goes rigid at the feeling of your lips on him. And his breath hitches when your hands wrap around him, pulling him closer to you as you lay your chin on top of his head (which you realize is a rare opportunity as he's taller than you).
"Mi lindo araña," You chuckle to yourself when you notice hints of red sneaking on the lobes of his ears. "The more you stress yourself, the more you look like a grouchy face."
"A grouchy face?" His tone holds slight confusion. "You've been hanging with Peter B. too much, amorcito." He shakes his head while you giggle, and you two sink into each other's presence for a little while, taking in the silence outside of the calming breaths Miguel takes. If he were to confess, it's as if almost all his fatigue has vanished into thin air when he's in your embrace. But he doesn't say anything — he doesn't have to. Because you already know.
You set your lips on his temple. "Feeling okay now?" His body vibrates from a tiny purr, and you remove yourself to stand up straight. "Alright then, I'm gonna go to the cafeteria to get something to share. Because you clearly need a snack. And while I'm gone, pick up that tray and those empty containers off the floor before Lyla has another reason to call you a 'grumpy man-child.'"
His face molds to a deep scowl from the mention of his pixelated peer's name-calling. "I am not a man-child."
You give him a look. "You kinda are."
"And what gives you that—"
"Muñeco," Miguel quickly refrains from arguing when you call him by his nickname, the name only you can use. "If you're not a man-child, why haven't you stood up and done what I asked yet?"
The man opens his mouth, yet no words dare leave. Reddish-brown eyes are honed in on your figure as you survey his reaction, and he exhales in defeat when he stands up from his chair. Your smile flourishes. "I'll be back," is what you say as you turn to exit his domain and head to the cafeteria.
Miguel watches you leave until you're out of his line of sight, unable to fight the twinge of his lips while he moves to pick up his mess like you instructed him to.
"Sólo tú puedes darme órdenes, mi alma."
#𝑯𝒐𝒔𝒉𝒊 ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ 𝑾𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔: 𝑺𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒐𝒔#miguel o'hara#spider man 2099#miguel o'hara fluff#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o'hara x you#miguel o'hara x y/n#miguel o'hara x f!reader#miguel o'hara imagine#miguel o'hara fanfiction#miguel o'hara x black reader#miguel o'hara x chubby reader#miguel o'hara x gender neutral reader#miguel o'hara x gn!reader#miguel o'hara fic#spiderman x reader#spiderman x y/n#spiderman x you#spiderman 2099 x reader#miguel ohara
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"Something is really wrong with Steve," Robin says.
The party look up, startled. They wait for her to continue, but she starts pacing nervously. It immediately sets the kids on edge, glancing at each other uneasy.
"What do you mean?" Dustin eventually speaks up. "Is he... ill?"
"No, no, it's... his parents came home, right?"
"Yeah, we know," Max snorts. "Dustins mom had to ban him from the house because he wouldn't leave."
"He can't avoid them forever," Dustin points out. "I get that it's hard to talk to them when you have to lie all the time but they're, like, paying for all his shit."
"No they aren't!" Robins voice cracks. "They cut him off years ago! Dude, he hates them and now he's writing up a resignation letter so he can go work for his dad."
"Why is that a bad thing?" El asks, eyes a little wide.
"He'd have to train for a few months in New York for one."
"New York?!" All of them burst out. They all try to speak at once, loud and panicked. They're so loud that Hopper bursts out, confused and tired and panicked.
"What the hell is going on?" He snaps.
The kids all look a little guilty. El stands up so he looks at her. "We are worried about Steve."
"What? Jeez, that's what you're yelling about?"
"He's moving away!" Mike snaps. "To New York! For months!"
Hopper frowns at him like he's not making sense. "New York?"
"To work with his dad," Robin adds. "I didn't know if I should talk him out-"
"They're back?" Hopper asks. He's gone still, voice devoid of emotion and dangerously calm. "How long?"
"A month? Maybe more, it-"
"And they're home now? Do you know if Steve is there with them? It's not one of his shifts, is it? That'd make it easier."
"What? No, he's home. Make what easier?"
Hopper ignores the question, grabbing his coat and shoes. "Stay here, I won't be long."
He ignores the questions that grow frantic and panicked when he picks up his gun, stomping out the door at a fast pace. Robin is yelling from the door as he climbs into his car. She's too taken aback to even begin to think of how to answer to avalanche of questions the kids throw at her.
Hopper gets to the Harrington house in record time, having sped just a little to get there. Mrs Harrington is the one who opens the door and looks a little guilty when she sees him.
"Where is he?" Hopper asks.
She steps back, letting him in. "In his room."
Hopper pushes past her, taking the stairs two at a time. Steve is sat at his desk when he enters the room without knocking, head snapping up and looking startled. He looks a little ashamed when he realizes that it's Hopper.
"Hop," Steves voice is strained. He frowns when Hopper ignores him, pulling his closet open. "Uh, Hopper? What are you doing?"
"Taking you home," Hopper mutters. He pulls out the three bags he knows Steve has been keeping hidden, just in case. "Come on, pack up."
"I can't just-"
"Yes you can. Pack. Up."
Steve only hesitates for a moment. He slowly fills up one with his few sentimental things and some things he considers important (his scoops uniform, the drawings from Will). Hopper stuffs the other two with clothes. It doesn't take them long.
"I'll come back for the rest, if you want any of it," Hopper hands Steve his car keys, waving him toward the stairs. "Wait in the car. I'll be a minute."
Steve hesitates at the door, glancing between Hopper and his mom. He leaves though, doesn't say goodbye.
"Right, here's what's going to happen; I'm going to come back for the rest of his things. I've seen that room, I'll know if somethings missing. And that shit is his, don't try to bullshit me." Hopper eyes her with visible distaste. "He's an adult now. You can't take him back and if I hear that either of you've been trying to harass him again, I'll press charges."
She nods, which is enough of an answer for him. He throws the two bags in the back with the third before climbing in the drivers seat. The air is thick with tension as he pulls out the drive, starting the drive back to the cabin.
"Um... could you, uh, drop me off at the trailer park?" Steve asks, quiet and timid in a way that is horribly familiar to Hopper. "I, uh... I need to see Eddie."
Hopper grunts. He grits his teeth to stop himself snapping. It wouldn't be fair on Steve. So he drives him there, quiet and tense.
"Thanks," Steve mumbles.
But Hopper climbs out too, gently grabbing Steves jacket lapels to drag him over to the Munsons trailer. Hopper knocks.
"Oh," Waynes eyebrows raise. He looks Hopper up and down before turning his eyes on Steve, who he gives a soft smile. "Harrington, you doing alright?"
"No," Hopper answers for him. "Could we come in for a moment?"
"Sure?" Wayne shuffles out the way, shutting the door behind them. "Eddie's in his room, if you want me to get him?"
"You want your boy to see?" Hopper asks Steve.
Steve ducks his head, fiddling with the sleeves of his jacket. He mutters, "he probably will anyway."
"Ok. Do you want him here for this?"
"Here for what?" Eddie asks, hovering in the doorway, worried. "What's happened?"
"Nothing," Steve tries to say. "It's... really, it's nothing."
"Steve," Hopper calmly says. Waits for Steve to look back at him, simply raises an eyebrow. "Where?"
"Hopper, it's fine, really."
"Where?"
Steve tries to stare him down, unsuccessfully. He huffs, annoyed, glancing at Wayne and Eddie who, understandably, look confused.
He slowly takes his jacket off, keeping his eyes on the floor. There's a sharp intake of breath when the dark, almost black, bruises on his arms are revealed. They litter the entirety of both arms, the ones around his left wrist and right bicep standing out the most- the ones shaped like hands.
"Steve," Eddie whispers, walking forward slowly. He's careful, brushing his fingers against his skin. "Oh, baby, who did this?"
"It's fine," Steve tries to insist.
Hopper clears his throat though. "Where else?"
Steve doesn't try to argue this time. He grabs the back of his collar, lifting his top off. His ribs have the worst of his bruises.
"Fuck," Eddie carefully, gently, pulls Steve into a hug. Presses gentle, ever so soft kisses to his neck. His hand is just as gentle when he rubs his back. Steve clings to him, grip looking almost painful, but Eddie doesn't complain.
Hopper turns to Wayne, who is also pointedly looking away so the two can have their moment. "His parents are gonna try to find him. Direct them to me if they try here."
"Don't worry about Steve," Wayne glances at the pair, still wrapped around each other, at the bruises. "Worry about them. If they try to come by here, they'll be leaving in a body bag. I'm sick of assholes treating my kids like this."
Hopper looks over at Eddie, who's pulling back so he can hold Steves face, eyes painfully understanding. He nods at Wayne, pats his shoulder. "I'm getting the rest of his stuff, he's got no reason to go back there. It's my cabin he's coming home to."
"I'll drive him there myself," Wayne glances at the pair, who think they're being subtle and sneaky as they giggle their way towards Eddies room. "Tomorrow."
Hopper chuckles, glancing towards the hall the two disappeared down. "Tomorrow."
#stranger things#steve harrington#eddie munson#steddie#jim hopper#ficlet#angst#steves asshole parents#well#hopper and wayne are steves real parents now#hurtcomfort
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Case 7 0 7 : just for you .
⌗ sub bottom afab. sukuna x dom top m. reader
cw. punishment-goes-too-far, threat of free use, degrading, pussy slapping, ooc, talk about breeding.
the room smelled filthy of sex and fluids, disheveled clothes everywhere on the floor, and long discarded. "you think that was funny, huh? pulling shit like that," you growled, pressing your fingers up against sukuna's sweet spot.
"nhhhaah...! f-fuck!" there laid the great king of curses, legs spread wide open to give you access to his wet folds. "f-fuck you! i can do whatever the fuck i want!" he spat out, managing to give you a dirty glare as if to show that he was in control.
alas, he wasn't. "ah-hah!" sukuna wailed, his toes curling as he felt your palm landing on his clit.
"still acting like a brat, aren't you?" you frowned, plunging your fingers back and forth into his entrance. "you would think that by now, you know who's in control here, 'kuna," he cries when he feels your thumb rub over his clitoris. so sensitive when you've barely done anything to him.
he bites his lip, struggling to bite back at you. "y-you— you're just a lowly human," he spits, nails clawing into the bedsheets when he feels you bury your fingers knuckle-deep inside him.
"am i, ryo?" the usage of his first name makes his insides clench around you, keeping you buried deep inside him. "maybe i am," you lean down, pressing your lips below his ear, "but to you, i'm not."
sukuna whines, bucking his hips up at your words. it's true, after all. only you got to see him like this. only you could make him like this. only you could ever treat him like some lowly being, and he'd let you get away with it.
"so i don't appreciate you getting all touchy feely with people who aren't me," you nibble at his earlobe, the gesture leaving sukuna wet and wanting. without him realizing it, sukuna's arms reach to wrap around your neck, pulling you closer.
your free hand glides across sukuna's thigh, getting comfortable on his hip as he exhales, his warm insides clenching and unclenching around you. "you know you're mine as much as i am yours, don't you?" sukuna's legs tighten around your waist as your fingers start to move inside him once more.
sukuna moans, bucking his hips up to your touch. "i'm not—" he starts. oh, how sweet you are to him.. how sweet and rough you can be to him at the same time. it makes him weak. his pride simply cannot allow that.
"you're my property, you're my dog," he digs his nails into your back, "not the other way around." you sigh, pulling your fingers out of his hole without a word. sukuna whines, pulling away from you and shooting you a dirty glare.
in a swift move, you're forcing yourself inside him. your hands on his hips as you plunge yourself deep inside him. "aahngh–! " sukuna moans in surprise, his head throwing back as he claws the bedsheets, almost enough to rip them.
"you don't ever fucking learn, do you, sukuna?" you bite, pulling his hips closer to you and nuzzling against that spot that feels so, so good. sukuna's chest heaves, an arm covering half of his face, yet showing enough of his eyes to know he's once again glaring at you.
he snarls, "hah, what the fuck do i need to learn from a mutt like you?" your gaze goes cold, and you pull out enough for just the tip to be in. when your nails dig into his skin, and you snap your hips against his, sukuna lets the most obnoxious moan you've heard all night.
you look down, and you notice the light bulge on his stomach that always grows whenever you're in the deepest parts of him. "say what you want. but you're mine, and you know it," you say with a light growl, your hand pressing on his stomach to feel the bulge.
sukuna looks down to his stomach, feeling you, your touch, your dick, oh, it's too much. he whimpers, clamping down on you while his hand reaches to lay on top of yours.
"but alright, if that's what you want," you pull your hand away from his, staring down on him from above. "maybe i'll just let everyone see how the great king of the curses really is," he squirms at your words, lightly pressing his hips down on yours.
he glares at you, yet not finding the words to spit back at you. your rough hand glides across his thigh, fiddling with his cunt as he spasms and groans. "or i'll let them use you. since i don't seem to be enough for you anyway," he clenches up at that, his hand reaching to wrap around your wrist.
"f-fuck you–" sukuna spites, and you slap his cunt once more, earning a cry from sukuna as his hips buck up. "what? i bet you'd like that, wouldn't you?" you stare at him coldly, lightly grinding your hips against his as he bites back his moans.
"i'd spread your legs open for those curses to use as they please. or maybe the humans too. maybe gojo, maybe uraume," you bring up onto the topic of what he'd done earlier today, purposely riling you up and getting way too close to that servant of his.
sukuna visibly flinches at your words. the utter emptiness in your voice frightened him. he wondered if you'd actually do that. "i'd just leave you there, probably. it'd be too disgusting for me to look at," you spit, spreading his folds open with your fingers.
"y-you—" sukuna starts, red eyes glaring at you from below. your words make his heart clench. even he, felt disgusted at your words. he felt his soul crash down, he felt uncomfortable, he felt guilty. "what? you started this," you sigh, not even giving him the courtesy of a kiss, and just mindlessly slamming your hips against his.
sukuna groaned, his hands scrambling, not knowing what to do with them. it felt good. sex always felt good with you, but after what you said? it's different now.
"and since you're not mine, there's no reason for me to be yours, either," you continue, lazily pulling your dick out until just the tip was in, and pounding into him only half in. sukuna's hands reach to grab yours, squeezing so tightly that it hurts. "i am your king," he growled, slamming his hips down on yours to get you all the way in. what the hell were you saying? what the hell are you doing?
"like hell you are," you grab his hands with one of yours, pinning his wrists above his head. sukuna could easily knock you out. sukuna could easily push you away if he wanted to. hell, he could kill you if he wanted to. but he doesn't. he simply moans and thrusts his hips back up to yours.
he's weak. too weak to even find the words to spite you. the sex doesn't feel as good as it usually is. his pussy is clenching tightly around you, your words ringing through his head. "you can do whatever you want, and so will i," you look down on him, pressing the tip of your dick onto his sweet spot.
sukuna throws his head back, his pussy spasming around you. he feels like he's close, but he can't come. he just can't. "you can get your slutty hole used by whoever you want, sukuna," you say, rolling your hips against his. "i'll fuck someone else. i mean, anyone would be glad to get knocked up by me, y'know?" your words stung like a knife into his heart.
"plus, by then, your cunt would be too lose, anyway," and just like that, he breaks. sukuna's legs drop down, his nails digging into his palms as his lips tremble. "fuck you," he snarls, his whole body going limp as he feels tears threatening to spill out of the corner of his eyes.
for a split second, you felt guilty. surely you didn't go too far, right? wrong.
sukuna couldn't even find the words to bite back at you, trying to keep himself intact after you said all those words to him. he doesn't want that. he doesn't want to be shared. he doesn't want you to be shared.
"you gonna start crying, slut?" you snap your hips against his, shoving your feelings aside. "you started this, so see it to the fucking end, will you?" sukuna's heart shatters, the sex really didn't feel good now.
your hands are still restricting his, so he couldn't push you away. he's strong. he's the strongest. so why can't he fight you back now? his nails are starting to draw blood out from his palm, everything was starting to hurt. with a light sob, he calls out your name.
" 'm sorry," sukuna cries. he didn't want this. he was just looking for some fun. he just wanted to rile you up for some punishment, for some good sex. "y-you fucking asshole," tears were starting to pour out of his eyes.
the great sukuna did cry during sex, but not like this. your hands immediately release his wrists, wrapping your arms around him as if on instinct. "ryo, i'm sorry, i–" you try to apologize, only to be responded by sukuna wrapping his arms and legs around you tightly, his nails digging onto your back, as if he was petrified of you leaving him.
"i didn't mean that," you tell him, trying to get ahold of yourself as he buries his face into your shoulder. he felt embarrassed, then too. the great sukuna doesn't cry. especially not due to things like this. "..please," sukuna whimpers, his whole body trembling.
he sobs onto your shoulder, clinging onto your body as if you were to die, once again. "don't do that to me," he begs of you. and at that moment, he couldn't even register how pathetic he sounded. how could he, the king of curses, crumble under mere words of threat? how could he become this weak?
your heart drops down to your chest when you realize what you've done. perhaps, the monster was you. "i'm sorry," you whisper out, holding him closer. "i wouldn't do that, ryo. you know i wouldn't," sukuna exhales shakily, the embarrassment creeping alongside the hurt.
"i hate you," he whimpers, but he knows you wouldn't. he knows you love him. you've loved him for years, and never once have you said things like that towards him. he can't help feeling hurt.
all this hurt his pride. to think mere words from a mere human could hurt him this much? to think something so silly had him weak, unable to move an inch, unable to pull or push away. this is the vulnerable side only you would ever see.
you pull away from the hug, getting a good look at sukuna's face. his cheeks were wet from tears, his face red and lips slightly bloody from biting himself. "i'd rather kill myself than hand you or myself over to anyone else," sukuna's lips tremble when he feels you wipe his tears, reminding him of the gentle ways you usually use on him.
"don't fucking say shit like that again," he growls, yet it being covered by an involuntary whimper, "i'll kill you if you do."
you chuckle lightly, pressing your forehead onto his. "i'm sorry," you apologize, just barely above a whisper. sukuna pouts slightly before pulling you into a kiss, grinding his hips onto yours to remind you that you were still inside him.
"just impregnate me or something so we both don't have to worry about shit like that," he smirks, barely joking as he pulls you close.
you couldn't help but chuckle, "as if you'd ever be ready for that."
© toranesu
#: ren's encore.#sub sukuna#dom reader#top male reader#bottom sukuna#afab character#amab reader#male reader#nsft#sub jjk#sukuna smut
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Heartache
pairing: Ellie Williams [brother's best friend] x fem reader
c.w. : smoking
summary: you have had your eyes on your brother's best friend and band member forever, but you'd never think she would actually talk to you?
a/n: this was a submission + I'll make more parts if it gets a good response!
The air in your room hangs heavy with humidity. A slight breeze from your open window blows through, fluttering your various posters and decor hanging on your walls. And over you, sprawled across your bed, flipping through social media, you were honestly bored out of your mind. Three weeks into summer and your closest friend was away for vacation, leaving you alone… and bored.
Cycling through your socials again you get fed up with the lack of entertainment and toss your phone on the floor with an exacerbated sigh. You lay on your bed, wondering what you should do to fill the void of dopamine when the sound of music begins to fill the house. A mixture of rock, indie, and midwest emo songs rang out from your garage, conveniently positioned directly under your room.
Your brother's band got around to practicing, you assumed. You didn’t even realize your brother was home, he had gone out earlier this morning after your parents left for work. The music got louder and you suddenly had an idea of what you wanted to do, and it wasn't staying here and listening to your brother's shitty garage band. You gather your sketchbook, some pens, headphones, and a few other things into a bag, throw on a hoodie and a pair of shoes and head downstairs. You were headed to a river spot in the woods near your house. It was a commonly frequented spot by you, and your friends but not known to many. Perfect for a little seclusion and wading in cool water.
You walk down stairs and almost instantly are hit with the strong earthy smell of smoke. You linger for a second and decide that your trip would be improved with a joint, hoping your brother would front you something, you enter the loud garage.
Your brother and his band mates, all two of them, were unaware of your entrance. They were playing as loud as possible (maybe not as well as possible) but they were producing sound! Your brother slamming away on the drums while the guitarist, and bassist/singer were in their own worlds.
“Hey!” you yell over the trio.
“HEY KAI!” You shout once more at your brother. Who, without skipping a beat or stopping, yells back.
“WHAT DO YOU WANT?”
This got the attention of the other two band members who did stop upon seeing you standing there, amps silencing to white noise feedback.
“Can I get a joint?” you ask.
“You got money for a joint?” Kai laughs.
“Can you just front me one?” you reply back flatly
“Why should I?”
“If you give me one I wont tell mom you were smoking in the house again.” You counter.
“It’s the garage so technically not the house and whatever you know they wont do anything”
“She can have one of mine?” a voice sparks up behind Kai, drawing your attention to the guitarist. A girl named Ellie. She and Kai had been longtime friends and bandmates. You barely knew anything about her other than she was in Kai’s grade, one above yours, but you knew her. You knew her eye color, her favorite flannel she wore a little too often. You knew she got a new guitar last year, and a fresh tattoo this year that shined under the garage light as she held up a joint in your direction.
You also knew that this was one of the only times she had ever spoken to you. Not like you were around each other often but you almost felt like she would try to avoid you when she was over. Shocked, but with adrenaline pumping you took your chance, walking over to Ellie. She still had her guitar hanging around her, flannel sleeves rolled up, her hair was a bit disheveled from playing, strands falling out of her half up hair do.
She hands you the joint with a sideways smile, and her eyes glint a bit.
“Thanks, you’re so much nicer than my brother” you scoff, giving her a smile back. You turn to leave, flipping off Kai as you bound out the door, leaving the band members commotion in the garage. Not seeing Kai chuck a drumstick at Ellie who dodges it with a laugh.
The success of getting a joint over shined the butterflies fluttering in your stomach from that look she gave you. The sun hit your face as you got outside and you were only looking forward to your solo date in the forest.
—----------------------------------------------------------------------------
The sun was setting slowly, but from where you were in the woods shade had taken over your spot. You had smoked, worked on your art, and walked along the water looking for rocks. Hanging out in the forest for a few hours always rejuvenated you in a way you couldn’t explain. But you started to get cold and decided now was a good time to head home. While packing up you realized you had pretty bad cotton mouth from the joint, so you planned to stop by the corner store.
It wasn’t a long walk but by the time you got to the corner store it was dusk. Street lights started sparking up like stars in the night sky. You opened the glass door and walked in, perusing the aisles for any snack or drink that could satiate your munchies. You were contemplating between an iced tea or a soda when the doorbell rang as someone walked in the store. You barely noticed the bell, or the girl walking up behind you until she spoke.
“Did you enjoy your smoke?”
You jump, previously lost in your thoughts, you turn around to see Ellie standing there. She was wearing a hoodie now, her guitar in its case strapped to her back.
“Oh my god you scared me!” you say, almost dropping the bottles in your hands.
“Sorry! Didn't mean to!” Ellie laughs, moving around you to open the fridge door next to you and grab a coke. “Funny running into you here” she says, a little awkward you note.
“I mean my house is only a few blocks away,” you laugh.
“Mm ya i guess so, you getting both of those?” Ellie looks down at the bottles in your hand.
“Oh um, I'm getting this one.” you hold up the iced tea & go to put back the soda. Before you could think Ellie takes the iced tea from your hand and starts walking towards the front of the store.
“Hey wait!” you look at her confused.
“Oh do you want something else princess?” Ellie turns back to look at you with a smirk.
Sparks ignite in your stomach, confused but now flustered, your mind swirling. You finally get a word out, “no, just that” and Ellie turns back to walk towards the cash register.
You follow her, not really knowing what to do or how to act. Ellie and you had barely spoken to each other before this. And now she's acting so casually around you, and what did she call you? Everything happened so fast you barely caught it but reflecting back now, did she call you princess?
Ellie pays for the two drinks and you walk out together, taking your ice tea from her once outside.
“Thank you, you didn't have to do that” you say, unscrewing the top and taking a refreshing sip.
“Don't mention it” Ellie says, “So are you going back home now?”
“Mhm yeah, what about you?”
“Yeah I was, but it's getting dark now, i’ll walk you back home first” Ellie says with a smile.
“Who said chivalry was dead” you joke, it was a nice gesture, as much as you were confused by Ellie’s sudden intentions you couldn’t help but feel a type of way when she looked at you. Her green eyes danced over your face like she was memorizing your features. You wondered if she always looked at you this way?
She had. Ellie for the past few years had been keeping such a distance from you because when you were around she felt her whole body tense up. She felt like she was on fire if you looked in her direction. And god help her if she tried to speak around you, she ended up tripping over her words and losing her train of thought. Truthfully, she didn't know what magical queer fairy blessed her with the confidence to talk to you today. But she had taken in a chance earlier in the garage, and when she saw you in the store she knew it wasn't a coincidence.
The walk back to your house was short, only a few blocks. You and Ellie joke together and talk about summer plans in the meantime. Both of you slightly high still, making your balance shifty, occasionally you would brush shoulders, sending sparks down each other's spines.
When you get to your house you stop at the walk way, a little awkwardly since you knew Ellie had been in your house before.
“Thanks for walking me home! And buying me this, um and the joint '' you say, taking in all of Ellie’s courtesy today, a little unsure what to do with yourself.
“Any time!” Ellie says with a smile, she fidgets where she stands for a second before reaching her hand up to your face. She tucks a small strand of hair behind your ear, without breaking eye contact.
“Have a good night y/n” and with that she turns around and walks away, putting up her hood.
She left you solidified on the sidewalk, body unmoving but nerves on fire with a simple touch. You float for the next hour or so, barely registering going into your house and up to your room. Trying to make sense of what had just happened, and why now? And why so suddenly?
Later that night you receive a notification on Instagram
* @www.ellie followed you *
#ellie williams#ellie williams x reader#ellie x reader#ellie tlou#ellie williams smut#ellie smut#the last of us
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[7:16 AM]
"I'm gonna dieeee," you wailed, curling up on the couch. Pouting, you glanced over at Jongho, who was busy preparing breakfast—or at least you thought so—in the kitchen of your shared apartment.
He snorted and shook his head. "You say that every month, yet here you are, alive and well time and time again."
"Would it hurt to console me a little? Try being a woman for a month and see how you like it." With a scoff, you reached for a pillow, ready to throw it at him, but a wave of cramps hit your lower half. Wincing, you clutched the soft material close and waited for the pain to pass.
Damn it, being a woman sucked. If you get pregnant, you suffer for nine months. If you don't, you still suffer every month. Why did you have to be a woman? Life would be so much easier if you were a man. Like that bastard standing there, engrossed in whatever he was doing, neglecting his poor girlfriend who was in so much pain—
"Here you go, babe. I got you your heat pad."
Oh.
Suddenly, you felt guilty for thinking of him that way when all he had been trying to do was ensure your comfort. Your lips quivered as you reached out to him with grabby hands. Damn your period mood swings; they were driving you insane.
His eyes widened in panic at your tears as he rushed over, kneeling beside you and gently pressing the pad onto your stomach, knowing exactly where to hold it by now. One hand on your tummy, the other instinctively cupped your face. "What is it, babe? Are you hungry? I can make you something to eat."
You shook your head, mumbling, "No, that's too much work."
He hummed thoughtfully. "I can cut you some apples, at least?"
"Break them in half, you mean."
He nodded. "Yeah, or that too."
Just as he moved to stand up, presumably to go break some apples, you whined and tugged on his hand. "No, you idiot. I don't need anything else. I just want you to stay here with me… please."
Your boyfriend finally understood the cause of your morning grumpiness. Though your period cramps were always terrible and tended to affect your mood, today you appeared even more restless than usual. He softened as he realised his mistake in fussing over you when all you really wanted was for him to stay by your side.
"Hey, hey, it's okay. I'm here now. I'll stay with you for as long as you need me to," he whispered, settling beside you and pulling your smaller frame close. His heart fluttered when you immediately snuggled up to him as if it were second nature.
"Good, then stay forever," you murmured, leaning up to kiss his jaw. He gave you a comforting squeeze, his heart skipping a beat at your words. Pressing his lips against your head, he nuzzled his face into your hair, wondering why he hadn't done this sooner.
"Maybe I will," he said, savouring the feeling of you in his arms, pressed against him. The soft sensation of your breath on his skin, the warmth radiating from you, the rise and fall of your chest against his side, and the dreamy way you looked up at him—all of it made him think that staying like this forever wouldn't be so bad. "Be careful what you wish for. You'd better not grow tired of me when I do cling to you forever."
You bit your lip. "Never, Choi Jongho. I'll never get tired of you." With that, you sealed the promise with a kiss that seemed to make all the period cramps in the world disappear.
ATEEZ Masterlist
The way I'm tired asf but felt the need to get this out of my system before going to bed. It's that time of the month for me HAHA I'm in pain and honestly, nothing makes me feel better than being delulu🤡
Anyways, hope y'all enjoyed this random little timestamp and as always, let me know your thoughts! <3
General ATEEZ Tag list:
@aurasblue @marievllr-abg @itsvxlentine @minghaoslatina @huachengsbestie01 |
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@sharksandminhos @writingwieny @heyitsmetonid @tinyteezer @hollxe1 |
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@haven-cove @idfkeddieishot
All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.
#edenesth#ateez#ateez fanfic#ateez fanfiction#choi jongho#ateez jongho#ateez timestamps#jongho x reader#jongho x you#ateez drabbles#jongho drabble#jongho fluff#ateez fic#ateez imagines
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thinking about patrick getting hired by some wealthy rich man to teach his daughter tennis. she's in her 20s and she can't help but be attracted to him and the same goes for him like ... idk
public sex; oral (f receiving); coach zweig once more; MDNI 18+
w/ PATRICK ZWEIG
for the first couple of sessions, it's blatantly obvious that you don't want to be here.
patrick sees it in the way you zone out every few seconds. the way you have absolutely no hustle when you're hitting. the way you're more focused on your chipped nail polish than on his instructions. really, if the check wasn't as big as it is, then patrick wouldn't want to be here either. but the check for one session is enough to keep him going for three months and patrick wants to keep the money flowing. so he's here, and he cares just enough, and he really would prefer it if you cared too.
he meets you on even ground in the middle of the second lesson. you're drinking from an expensive water bottle while patrick drinks from a plastic one. your skin has a light sheen of sweat from it, but not nearly enough in patrick's opinion. he's sure the sweat is from the sun and not your effort.
he kicks the front of your sneakers with his.
"what's your deal?"
you're looking up at him, squinting even though the brim of your visor shields your eyes from the sun. "my deal?"
patrick nods. "you clearly don't wanna be here. so why are you?"
it takes you a second. your jaw ticks as if you're a smoker, or maybe you're used to chewing gum. patrick usually keeps both with him, and he would've offered either to you if you weren't on a court in your backyard.
eventually, you respond. "i agreed to come home for the summer and i could either sit on the board with my father, or play tennis. anything to keep me from lounging around all day."
a small, knowing smile came to patrick's lips. he glanced behind you at the shape of your house. standing here, patrick sees you. he understands you. he, too, learned tennis to escape the future set up by his father. while yours is on a smaller scale, and something more temporary, he still understands.
he caps his water bottle and places it on the bench. "if you put in a little effort, tennis can be fun."
you snicker and place your water bottle next to his, humming noncommittally.
"i'll believe it when i see it."
it isn't long until patrick starts to see effort put into your movements during your sessions. instead of letting the ball fly past you, you're attempting to run for it, sometimes even succeeding. your skin shines with more than a light sweat. you're actually out of breath when you attempt to respond to patrick mid session.
it's nice to see you putting in work. it's attractive when you're bent over with your hands on your knees, heaving for air. it's alluring when you pout at patrick, a plea for a break already on your emphasized lips.
he doesn't know if your sudden enthusiasm is of your own doing, or from the way patrick rewards you. because no matter how much he pushed his desire down, no matter how often he tried to hide it in the name of professionalism, he still found himself drawn to you. glances up your skirt turned to his head up there. fleeting touches to your lower back turned to his rough hands gripping that very area as he took you from behind. watching the sun beat sweat down onto your skin had a completely different meaning when he fucked you on the court, both of you tucked away on the bench and barely hidden away from anyone—notably your father—who could come outside.
it's obvious that you wanted him, too, your sudden need to impress him on the courts whenever he rewarded you with kisses was a testament.
he asks you one day when he'd lightly smacked your ass with his racket when your session was over. "is tennis fun yet?" came his question, and you smiled at him, throwing a hand over your eye to shield your face from the sun. the shadows cast onto your face and your clavicle did nothing to hide the obvious hickey patrick gave you a few days ago and he found his eyes drawn there when you answered.
"dunno. maybe i need a few more sessions."
#clearing the drafts out#+ diorrfairy#celeste writes challengers#patricksworld!#patrick zweig x reader#patrick zweig x you#patrick zweig smut
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WIBTA if I tell a couple I'm a mistress for both of them?
this is a long one and a very weird situation but here we go. I (28F) have been seeing two people recently. I've been seeing C (30F) for a little over 5 months and M (29M) for almost 6 months. both relationships are currently in a state of non-commitment, even though I've expressed feelings in both relationships and theyve been reciprocated, but I'm naturally not a super commitment-focused person and both of the people I'm seeing have respected that a lot, so yeah.
anyways, both relationships have been great and I'm incredibly happy w them, and since neither are committed to me I've kind of just assumed that both C and M were likely seeing other people as well even if we haven't talked about it.
WELL. about a week ago C came over to my place to spend the night, which she does like once a week or every other week. she goes to take a shower and I start gathering laundry and grab her stuff to throw in with mine and take her phone out of her jeans. I glance at the screen and see a few texts from a contact called "my love <3"
I was kinda surprised by this because while not talking to me about casual relationships is not something I would care about, the contact name made me think she had a more serious relationship going on, which I don't mind but would like to be informed about.
soooo okay I did an admittedly asshole thing and read the text. and then read a few more. and it became apparent that this was a REALLY committed relationship. like, I love yous, I'll be back home soon, please remember to grab so and so from the grocery store, stuff like that.
the contact picture looked kind of familiar too so I clicked on it to see better and it ended up being a picture of M.
I kind of flipped at this bc this is kind of a ridiculous situation, and I left my apartment for some air. I came back like 30 minutes later and C was waiting for me and confused where I'd been (she didn't see/hear me leave since she was still in the shower).
I apologized to her for looking at her phone but told her that I saw the texts from her partner, and that I was feeling kind of hurt that she hadn't told me that she had a more serious relationship going on, since she knows I value transparency. I specifically did not mention that I was also dating M or knew who he was because I felt I needed to scope out the situation more.
she ended up breaking down in tears and spilled everything. told me that M is her husband, that he doesn't know she's been seeing me, that shes felt so conflicted and guilty because she loves him but has really grown to love me too, that she feels wrong and dirty for keeping everything secret. I'm upset that I've been made into a mistress without knowing, but I try to talk to her about everything, we end up staying up super late talking and crying and pouring our hearts out. I still don't mention that I'm dating M too because I feel like I need to talk to him about this before any big decisions are made on my part.
I ended up inviting M to stay at my place a few nights later, and I confront him about the fact that I know he has a wife (made up something about my friend seeing them out together) and ask why he's kept this from me. his reaction was really similar. guilt, not understanding why he's attracted to two people at once, saying he very deeply loves C and doesn't want to leave her but really loves me too, says he's confused and doesn't know what to do. I don't mention to him that I know C or that I'm dating her.
I asked him if he's heard of polyamory before, and he said yes but he doesn't know anything about it really. I ended up encouraging him to maybe talk to his wife to see if that's something she'd be interested in, but he was terrified that she'd be hurt by the suggestion.
I really do love both of them and don't want to leave them. I've been poly for a long time and am very familiar with navigating ethical non monogamy, and to me this feels a lot like two poly people struggling to come to terms with and accept a facet of their sexualities, and they're just navigating that confusion and self discovery in ways that are...not great. but, I want to give them grace for their mistakes I guess?
so this is the part where I think I might be the asshole if I go thru with it. I've talked with both C and M separately about talking to their spouse about what's been going on and about polyamory in general, and they're both fucking terrified and really don't want to. so, I was thinking of inviting them both to my place at the same time to hash it out (without telling them that the other person will be there, since they still don't know I'm dating both of them). I think once they realize they've been dating the same person things might be easier to navigate, and will force them to confront what's been going on?? but also idk if springing this on them is the best thing I could do, but I really have no idea how to navigate this differently.
to be frank, if they love each other and both love me, my ideal outcome is that we continue things as they have been but with no secrecy and 100% transparency. I'm also afraid that even though they've both been seeing the same person and have expressed interest in polyamory after talking about it with me, they might feel personally betrayed by each other and everything could backfire spectacularly, AND I could possibly explode their whole marriage.
so, WIBTA?
What are these acronyms?
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hi can i request girl dad!aaron 🥺🥺 i am such a sucker for him, anything would be amazing thank you so much <3
hope this is okay!! —you have big news for your small family. 1.5k pregnant!mom!reader
When you first married his father, you weren't expecting Jack Hotchner to like you very much. Losing his mom so young, you wouldn't have blamed him for resenting you, or even hating you. You were like a stranger in his home.
Things are different now. Jack lays in your lap with his head on your shoulder, and maybe he's a little too old for such a coddling cuddle, but who really cares? You love him and you love holding him, and if he wants some extra comfort tonight you're happy to give it. Plus, you have something you've been meaning to tell him.
“He doesn't have real headlights, did you know?” Jack asks. “They're just stickers.”
You raise your brows at the car on screen. “No kidding.” You brush your fingers through his hair. He's blonde like his mom, though that blonde has turned brown the older he gets.
“Race cars don't have headlights.”
“They don't need them,” you say. Jack smiles at you shyly and leans into your neck, clearly pleased.
You're very, very glad that you ended up being someone he loved. It's a privilege to get to look after him, and to be his step mom. In the same way you're lucky to be Aaron's partner and Jane's mom, too.
“Think dad's made dinner?” you ask.
“No, he's probably just talking to your sister.”
Yes, well. You can't blame him, nor would you want him to stop. He talks to Jane like she understands, and Jane, not even two years old, nearly brand new to the world, soaks him in. You can hear him if you strain, the dulcet cadence of his voice under the steady hum of the dishwasher.
“That's okay, sweetheart, don't get upset,” he's saying, “it's okay. Come here, I've got you.”
Jane starts to cry. You and Jack give one another the look, apprehensive in hoping it won't turn into a full blown melt down.
“Honey?” Aaron calls. “Sorry, where did you put her other pacifier?”
You kiss Jack's hair. “Sorry, bub. Wanna come with me?”
Jack wants to stay and watch Cars. You wrap him in a throw blanket and make your way into the Hotchner kitchen, where Aaron rifles through the drawers and cabinets with Jane held snugly to his chest. “I know,” he says, “I know. I'll get it.”
You nudge him aside. You only know where the spare pacifier is because you put away the wooden spoons last night and pushed it back. You fish for it, a ladybug made of glittery red plastic, and Jane's crying slows as soon as you pull it free. She grizzles while you rinse it, but she settles when you hand it over.
“This is not the best, is it? The pacifiers?” you murmur.
“She dropped her other one and it rolled under the oven. And no. Not ideal.” He pats her back gently. “As long as she stops before she gets her big teeth, she'll be okay.”
“Do you think it's a comfort issue?” you ask.
“No,” he says. You worry about stuff like this constantly, but he knows kids are more hardy, and he isn't worried. “Sorry for making you get up.”
He hates when she cries; he may see his kids as a hardy bunch, but he takes their upset as a personal failure half the time. His concern for her overrides his concern for you, but in a few weeks that might change. You can't imagine him calling you to find something again when your stomach is round as a honeydew.
You've been meaning to tell him about that, too.
You're not secret-keeping immorally, he does want another baby, but you've been having a little bit of fun. He's gone on cases so often lately that he hasn't been able to keep track of you, or your doctor's appointments.
You watch him with Jane, and you think about him with Jack, and you know he's going to be happy. He's told you as much before.
“My poor girl,” he says, covering the back of Jane's head with his hand and pulling her under his chin. He looks as fine as ever, tall, dark and handsome to a fault. Jane's lips smack as she sucks and digs her teary cheek into his chest.
You can feel his gaze on you. “Is now a good time?” he asks.
You shrug. “For what?”
“To tell me what you're not telling me.”
“Oh, busted,” you croon, aiming for his shoulder.
You do as Jane had and press your cheek to his front, your eye forced shut.
“What do you think it is?” you ask.
He makes a strange noise. You can practically hear the possibilities for your secret running through his head. His birthday is vaguely soon, so that's what he'll settle on first. But Aaron likes to disregard the obvious as most people do, only circling back to it when there's no other lead to follow.
“How big of a secret is it?” he asks, rubbing Jane's back diligently. She makes a happy sound, and for a moment he forgets his plight to kiss the top of her head.
You speak quietly, carefully, because it is big, huge news. “The pamphlets say it’s about the size of a strawberry.”
He puts his cheek to Jane's head softly, looking at you in confusion. A second, another, and his eyebrows start to relax, rise, a smile on his lips like it's too good to be true. “You are?” he asks in surprise.
Jack appears in the doorway with the throw blanket trailing behind him. “Y/N, when are you coming back to watch TV?”
“Jack, lovely, come here. I have something to tell you,” you say.
Aaron grabs your wrist. When you meet his eyes, he squeezes gently. “You're sure?” he asks.
“The doctor seemed pretty certain, handsome.” You lower your voice as Jack comes to stand in front of you. “Are you happy?”
“Happy about what?”
You put your hand on your stomach cautiously, worried about Aaron and how quiet he's being, and if it's as okay to tell Jack as you'd thought, but that action is what gets him. “I love you,” he says quizzically, as though his being happy is totally dependent on the fact. “Of course I'm happy. This is the best secret you could've kept.”
“About what?” Jack asks, patting your arm.
You bend down just a bit to see his face properly. “It's a secret you can't tell anyone for a while, okay? The only people who can know for now are me, you, and dad.”
“Can I tell Jane?” he asks.
“Yeah, buddy, you can tell your sister,” Aaron says.
You peer at him from the corner of your eye, both concerned and pleased to see the wetness ringing his waterline, and the tenderness with which he holds Jane close, his thumb rubbing little circles into her back.
“I'm going to have another baby,” you say.
Jack's jaw drops. “Right now?”
“No, not right now! You still remember last time?” you ask with a laugh, taking his shoulders into your hands.
“You were crying and shouting for dad to hold your hand.” He pokes your stomach. “So it's like Jane?”
“Maybe one day, sweetheart. For now, it's just a tiny baby.”
Jack wants to see your stomach. He's expecting a much bigger bump than you have to offer, but you explain that eventually it'll get bigger again, and he seems quite pleased. Aaron makes sure to give him a hug and ask him if he's okay, to which Jack says, “Yes, but can we have a brother this time?”
You rub the soft top of your stomach. “I'll see what I can do, Jack.”
Aaron commandeers your attention, kissing you more times than you can count. You don't think you've ever seen him this happy now the reality has truly set in, asking Jane in his murmur, “Do you want to be a big sister?”
She gurgles around the pacifier, leaving drool in a line down his chest.
“I know, honey. I'm excited too. Let's clean you up, mm? And make mommy a cup of hot cocoa…” He narrows his eyes at you. “Would you sit down?”
“I'm only ten weeks, I'm fine.”
“She's keeping secrets from me, and now she won't do what I'm asking,” he says to Jane. “Can you believe it? Anyone would think mommy doesn't like me as much as she claims.”
You kiss his cheek. “M'having your baby, Aaron, again.”
“That is a compelling argument.” He wipes Jane's cheek. “What do you think? Should we forgive her?” Jane laughs. He smiles at you, lovesick. You're not sure who for. “I guess we're letting you get away with this one, sweetheart. But no more secrets.”
“None,” you promise.
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