#but somehow it hurts when I touch it?????

[reiderwriter]

Hi, so I have a request, but please don't feel pressured to write it now.

I was wondering if you could please do a scene or scenario where Spencer shouts out in desperation and panic "where's my wife" after a close call with the team on a very dangerous case.

A/N: I put a bit of a twist on your request so I hope you still enjoy it! Thank you for requesting~♡

Warnings: minor injury to canon characters, explosion, temporary loss of hearing, sight, etc.

The force of the blow was so strong that when Spencer Reid finally came to, a few seconds after hitting the ground hard, he couldn't hear a thing. 

Whether it was adrenaline, or an injury, or pure shock, his senses were numb, and the only thought in his head as he started screaming was of you. 

“Wh-where,” he coughed, shaking his head to try and focus. “Where's my wife?” 

His voice was quiet and weak at first, but it didn't matter to him. After all, he couldn't hear the words at all. He just felt his lips form the words and knew the familiar vibrations in his throat meant the sound was escaping into the wind. 

You pushed through crowds with a scream as you tried to get through to your team. Spencer wasn't the only one close to the blast. 

Emily, JJ, Morgan, and Hotch were all in various states of disarray around you as you ran back from the car across the street. You'd run back to check some files, feeling something off, and the heat and loud boom behind you was the confirmation you'd been looking for that you were right. 

After his first few attempts, Reid still couldn't see you, much less hear you or touch you or press his arms around you and not let go. He struggled to his feet and began calling again. 

“Where's my wife? Where is… WHERE'S MY WIFE?” His voice broke, and he  coughed gasped through each word, but he didn't stop. 

He stumbled forward, looking to see you through the haze of dust that had erupted from the blast site. Morgan ran to his side just as he tripped, pulling an arm under his as they stumbled together away from the rubble. 

“Where is she? She was right here, I need-” he coughed, leaning more on Morgan than he was walking for himself as his ankles twisted under him. 

“Hey, hey kid, we're okay. We need to get away from the blast, okay? Away.” 

Spencer kept rambling, though, his ears ringing as he blinked away his confusion and the panic creeped in stronger. 

“My wife, where is she? Morgan, I have to find her, she could be hurt,” he demanded, his voice stronger now as he pushed out of Morgan's grip. 

Ambulances and police cars were beginning to pull up, half of them already having been on route when your team had pulled up. 

Spencer searched through the crowd, sorting through faces until he found the one he desperately needed to see. 

Emily and JJ had been thrown back towards the cars, but both seemed to have missed big shrapnel and other injuries. He watched them clutch each other and stumble behind the cars as they called into their phones, requesting backup. 

Hotch was similarly talking fast to surrounding officers, and though he looked fine, he clutched his knee in his hand. The already dark material of his pants was somehow darker, and shinier in places, and it was only a moment later that Spencer realized a large chunk of shrapnel was jutting out of his leg, just above the knee. 

Rossi had been the furthest from the blast, bar you, and it was him that Spencer saw next, dusting off his clothes as he moved quickly to assess the scene. 

Morgan was still worriedly trailing behind him as he tripped over his feet. 

“Where's my wife? Where's my wife?” 

He finally saw you then, as you dove into the dust and smoke to assist your team. He was just about to fall to his knees when you ran to him, holding him up under his arms as he wrapped himself around you. 

“Found you. I found you, you're okay?” He asked, hands gently cradling your cheeks as he asked, tears in his eyes. 

“I'm fine, Spencer. Are you-” 

He silenced you with his lips, mouth slanting down on yours as he pushed every fear, every emotion, every ounce of adrenaline into your body. He kissed you like you'd never been kissed before, with desperation and longing and relief. 

And when he pulled away, he collapsed into your arms. 

Luckily, Morgan had been only steps away and took some of his weight off you as you stood, gasping for air and reeling from the kiss. 

You were so dazed, you collapsed to the floor, your knees giving in beneath you, and both Spencer and Morgan came down with you. The three of you were weak and traumatized, and emotions were running high, which is why you tried not to be offended by Morgan's line of questioning. 

“How long have you two been married?” He asked, and you were suddenly taken further aback. 

“What?” 

“Reid was looking for his wife. He was shouting ‘where's my wife? I need to find her.’ He was desperate. He was pushing away from me, and then he saw you, and he relaxed.” Despite the blow of the explosion and the now whirl of shrill sirens surrounding them, Morgan laid every word out carefully, like you would blow just as easily given the chance. 

“I'm not… we're not…Morgan, we're not even dating. I don't know what that was but…” 

Your hands carefully stroked Spencer's hair, gently smoothing it out of his eyes as you searched for answers in the man's unconscious form. 

You didn't stop until the paramedics arrived four minutes later, sitting unblinking as they hooked him up to an oxygen tank and carted him off to the nearest hospital. 

XXX 

The second time Spencer Reid awoke, it was dark outside, and the lights were low. But you were at his bedside, sleeping with your head by his legs, and your breathing was steady. So he let his eyes close again, not registering any of the pain the day had inflicted, and let himself sleep beside you. 

XXX

The third time Spencer Reid awoke, you were gone. He wasn't alone, though. Rossi sat upright in a chair beside the window of his hospital room, reading from what looked to be a case file. 

“Spencer, glad to see you returned to the land of the living,” Rossi said, noticing the younger man's movement and walking to his side. He pressed a button, and a doctor raced in, closing the door gently behind him. 

“Where is she? Where is-” 

“Spencer, it's okay. Everyone's okay. The doctor needs to run through some questions with you to check if you're feeling okay. Do your best to answer, okay, genius?” 

Spencer nodded, ignoring the small ache in his head, so similar to the headaches he'd been plagued with in earlier years. 

The doctor ran through standard questions, checked his blood pressure, checked his reactions, and made sure physically he was fine before moving on to more probing issues. 

“Doctor Reid, I'm going to ask you some simple questions about yourself now to assess for any neurological damage.” 

Reid nodded, regretting it instantly, but wanting to get out of the hospital as fast as possible to see you.  

“How old are you, Doctor Reid?” 

“Thirty, I'll be thirty-one this fall.” The doctor nodded and continued. 

“Where did you grow up?” 

“Las Vegas, Nevada. My mom still lives there. She's a patient at Bennington Sanitarium.” 

The doctor nodded and continued. 

“Are you married, Doctor Reid?” 

“Yes, my-” Spencer had to cut himself off as he processed the question fully. Was he married? No. He didn't remember any wedding. He had no romantic arrangement with anyone at this point in time. So why was he saying yes? 

Your face flashed into his head, and he grabbed his chest as his heart ached. It wasn't your face as he usually saw it, but that dazed and shocked expression you'd worn after he'd kissed you. 

He blanched and reclined slightly, suddenly needing all the pillows on the bed for more support as he realized the weight of his mistake. 

“Doctor Reid? Doctor Reid, did you understand the question?”

“What? Oh, no. No, I'm…I'm not married, I guess.” 

Rossi and the doctor shared a look before the doctor took his leave, promising to check in on you again in a few hours. 

The concerned look from Rossi as his bedside was almost too much to take. 

“Stop looking at me like that, Rossi,” he said, grumbling to himself, suddenly upset at the end of his delusions. 

“Like what? I'm not allowed to look at you now?” 

“You're not allowed to pity me. Where's everyone else? They're okay?” 

Rossi took a seat next to him and sighed.

“Hotch is in surgery - non-critical. They just want to be sure the shrapnel that landed in his leg didn't strike anywhere near a nerve or an artery. Morgan survived with a few bruises and scrapes that make him look even more like an action movie hero. He's coordinating with local law enforcement to catch out bomber.” 

Reid nodded along to each revelation, but his patience was growing thin. Rossi was watching him squirm. Reid, waiting for your name to pop up in conversation so he could talk about you, think about you with a valid excuse. 

“Emily and JJ are back at the motels, Penelope met them there to help them out. Emily's left arm is broken, and she has a nasty cut on her face, JJ twisted an ankle and sprained it pretty bad, so she'll be sitting for a while. I, myself, survived with pleasantly few cuts, a boon given my advancing years-” 

“Y/N, what about Y/N?” Reid finally burst, looking pathetically down at Rossi from his hospital bed. 

“Eager, aren't we?” 

“I need to know she's okay, and that... that she doesn't hate me.” 

“You can find those answers out yourself, kid. My shift is almost over.” 

Rossi stood and grabbed his cup of coffee, saluting Reid as he strolled out of the door. 

Reid was confused until the door opened again thirty seconds later, and you rushed in, breathing heavily as you took in his appearance, checking for damage. 

“Y/N,” he said, sitting up again. “Listen, I'm so, so sorry for kissing you yesterday. My mind must've been jumbled after the explosion and- and I thought you were actually my wife, and we were married-” 

You closed the distance between you quickly, grabbing his cheeks like he had grabbed tours only a day before and planting your lips back on top of his again. 

You kissed him the way you'd been kissed once before. With desperation, and longing, and relief. And when you pulled back, there were tears in your eyes that you didn't let fall, as you pressed yourself into Spencer Reid's arms. 

“Don't. Don't scare me like that again. I thought we'd lost you, I thought you'd kissed me and then - and then died!” You ranted, your arms gesturing wildly, every few seconds pausing to rake a hand through your hair. 

“You're not angry?” 

“Yes. Yes, I am angry, Spencer. You got hurt again, I'm seething.” 

“At me. You're not angry at me for kissing you?” He asked, smiling up as you goofily, a little bit worse for wear, but still shining nonetheless. 

“Oh. No. I was confused, but I'm not angry.” 

“Good,” he said, nodding, the two of you falling into an awkward, tense silence. You picked at dust on his shoulder as he stared at you, neither of you bold enough to say another word until the tension was palpable and Spencer Reid burst open. 

“Can I kiss you again?” 

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid criminal minds #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader fluff #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Just Keep Breathing

Sam and Dean & little sister!reader, Castiel & Winchester!reader, Rowena & Winchester!reader

Requested by Anonymous (x2)

Synopsis: You get sick from a mysterious illness, and you just can’t seem to get better.

“Finally!”

Dean’s voice was the first you heard as you stumbled into the bunker after an insanely long school day. You were somehow sweating and freezing at the same time, and it felt like you might collapse any second.

“Grab a book, there’s a ton of lore to go through,” Dean continued. “We’re looking for more info on witches, seems like there might be…” Dean’s voice trailed off when he looked up to see you all but slumping down the stairs. “Hey kid, you ok?”

“Mm-hmm,” you huffed in response as your backpack dropped to the floor—had you done that? You didn’t remember making the decision to take it off, it seemed to just fall off your slumped shoulders on its own.

“Ok, commere.” You blinked and there was Dean, his hand lifting to your forehead and his brow drawn in concern. “Jeez, you’re burning up.”

At Dean’s words, Sam looked up.

“She’s sick?” He asked.

“Yeah.” Dean removed his hand and lowered himself to one knee to look at your downturned, unfocused gaze. “Sweetheart, look at me.”

You tried to focus on Dean’s eyes, but your gaze refused to settle.

“Yeah ok,” Dean sighed. “Let’s get you to bed.”

You let Dean lead you to your room and tuck you into bed. He even helped you take your shoes off when your fingers fumbled with the laces.

“Did you eat today?” Dean asked as you settled in.

“I…” you wracked your befuddled brain. “I had lunch…but then I threw it up sometime after sixth period.”

“Ok.” Dean cringed. “You get some sleep, I’m gonna go make you food.”

“Nooo.”

Dean turned in surprise at your desperate whine.

“What? What’s wrong?”

You grabbed at his sleeve and tugged.

“Don’t go,” you sniffled. “I don’t want food, I just want you to stay.”

“Ok, ok,” Dean relented, figuring that once you were asleep he could make you something. “You better not get me sick,” he said, only half kidding, as he sat on your bed. When you reached out to him, he went to put his arms around you, but the second his hands touched you, you flinched away.

“That hurts!” You were starting to cry now as you backed away from your brother.

“What hurts?” Dean was baffled. “I barely even…” he trailed off as he pressed the back of his hand to your head again, ignoring the way you hissed and tried to flinch away from him. “Jeesh, it’s even worse now,” Dean mumbled. “Just lay back now, you gotta get some sleep, ok?”

“Don’t go,” you begged.

“I’m not going anywhere, just take it easy sweetheart,” Dean promised. “Get some rest.”

Dean waited until he was sure you were asleep before he went to talk to Sam.

“She asleep?” Sam asked, not even looking up from the lore book he was studying.

“Yeah…” Dean’s voice trailed off as he stood there awkwardly for a moment. “Sam, something’s wrong.”

“Wrong? What, with Y/N?”

“Yeah. I don’t know how to explain it…she was getting hot so fast, and when I tried to touch her, it was like I burned her or something. I don’t know, I guess I can’t be sure, but something about her getting sick doesn’t feel…normal.”

“Ok.” Sam nodded. “Well, you call around at the school and see if there’s a bug going around. I’m gonna hit the lore a bit more.”

The boys didn’t speak as they got to work.

…

Sam was heading to the kitchen when he heard you calling for him. He detoured into your room, his heart constructing when he saw you—you were pale and sweaty, the sheets sticking to your skin. He couldn’t tell if your cheeks were glistening from tears or sweat—it was obvious you were in pain.

“Hey honey,” he greeted gently. “Did you need something?”

“Can you stay with me?” You pleaded. Sam didn’t hesitate, coming over to sit on your bed. You reached out to hold his hand, but when your fingers touched his you hissed and pulled away.

“Something wrong?” Sam asked, remembering what Dean had said.

“It hurts.” Now there was no mistaking the tears on your face for sweat—Sam had never seen you so upset and in pain. “It’s like-like my skin is on fire and-and I just want a hug but when anybody touches me it just—it just gets worse.” You were out of breath and choking on your words by the end, and it took every ounce of Sam’s will to ignore his big brother instinct and not pull you into his arms—the last thing he wanted was to hurt you worse.

“Stay right here, I’m coming right back,” Sam said as he stood. You didn’t say anything, you just watched curiously—and a little worried—as Sam left. Sure enough, he returned a minute later with a bowl full of water and a glove.

“Ok, I’m gonna try something, hold still,” Sam instructed.

You started to giggle when Sam pulled the glove on and plunged his hand in the bowl. He grinned at you, happy to hear you laughing again.

“Ok now, hold still,” Sam insisted. “This is serious.” But he was still grinning as he took his dripping, gloved hand and pressed it against your forehead. “How does that feel?”

You closed your eyes in contentment as the cool water hit your skin and the gentle cloth brushed against your forehead.

“Better,” you told Sam with a smile. “Thanks, Sammy.”

“Anytime,” Sam said.

The two of you stayed like that for most of the afternoon, with Sam comforting you and trying to cool you off with the wet glove. Sam was determined to do anything he could to make you feel better while Dean was trying to investigate the cause of your illness. He’d also been calling Cas all day, but he hadn’t gotten an answer.

Dean was just about to give up on the books and catch a few hours of sleep when he heard Sam calling for him. He followed the sound to your room, where he found his little siblings resting on your bed.

“Can you sing me a song?” You asked, shyly picking at your sheets.

“Uhm…” Dean swallowed, a little uncomfortable. “Sure sweetheart.”

Sam relented his spot next to you so that Dean could climb in. He started off just humming “Hey Jude,” and within minutes you were fast asleep.

“You were right, Dean,” Sam said when he was sure you were asleep. “I don’t know what it is but—but it’s bad.”

“Ok well we don’t need to panic,” Dean assured him, noticing Sam’s rising anxiety. “She’s been sick before, let’s just give it a little longer and see what happens. Maybe Cas’ll finally come around and set her straight.”

“I don’t remember,” Sam mumbled.

“What?” Dean asked.

“Her getting sick. I barely ever remember her being sick.”

“Dad always sent you to school whether she was sick or not. I usually stayed behind to take care of her.” A ghost of a smile passed across Dean’s lips. “Most of the time I had to convince dad that I’d caught whatever she had so that he’d let me stay with her. I never wanted to leave her when she was sick.”

Sam was quiet for a long moment before a thought occurred to him.

“I don’t ever remember you sick.”

At this, Dean shrugged.

“I usually just powered through it. I had a job to do, after all.”

Sam was about to comment on that when his eyes suddenly snapped to you.

“Dean, is…is she breathing?” Dean jumped up as Sam moved closer to you. “Dean she’s not breathing!”

Dean blocked Sam from getting in the way and grabbed hold of your shoulders.

“Hey…hey!”

You jolted awake when Deans shook you, taking a great gulp of air the moment you were awake.

“Hey…ok…” Dean breathed a sigh of relief, holding you in his arms until he heard you crying as you tried to pull away. “You ok?” He asked as he let you go.

“It still hurts,” you sniffled. “What…what happened?”

“You stopped breathing,” Sam said. “It…jeez kid, you scared us.”

Dean noticed that your breaths still sounded labored.

“Are you ok?” He asked.

“It…it kinda hurts,” you muttered almost to yourself as you rubbed at your chest.

“Breathing?” Sam met Dean’s eyes—they were terrified.

Your only response was a tiny nod as you continued to take shallow breaths.

“I’m gonna try Cas again,” Dean said, standing from your bed.

“I’m…” Sam hesitated, as though he didn’t want to tell Dean what he was thinking. “I’m gonna call Rowena.”

“Rowena?” Dean demanded. “Why?”

“Because we don’t know what this is, Dean!” Sam insisted. “For all we know, she got cursed! We were looking into witch activity in the area. Maybe Rowena can help.”

Dean backed off.

“Fine. Call her.”

…

“I can’t heal her.”

“That’s because it’s a spell, you idiot.”

“I can’t be sure of that.”

“Well I can!”

“Ok, ok,” Dean interrupted Rowena and Cas’s argument. “This isn’t helping anything. Rowena, what can you do?”

“Not much I’m afraid,” Rowena sighed. “I can’t undo the spell.”

“Well can you at least tell us what the spell is?” Sam cut in before Dean had a chance to get angry.

“That’s easy enough. It seems to be some kind of…anti-body spell.”

“What does that mean?” Dean demanded.

“It means that her body is slowly starting to reject what it needs or wants the most. Basic needs like food, water, probably even sleep, will start to hurt her.”

“It hurt when I touched her skin,” Sam interrupted.

Rowena shrugged, and continued. “I suppose the need or desire for physical affection counts. It will get worse, though. Things that she can’t live without will be too painful for her to do. Eventually even breathing will be unbearable.”

“It already hurts to breathe.” Everyone had all but forgotten you were there until you made yourself known. Your voice came out in a terrified whisper, but everyone heard you clearly.

“We’re gonna fix it,” Dean asserted. “All we have to do is find the witch, right? Then kill her.”

“It might not be that simple,” Rowena sighed. “I mean, it could’ve been anyone. For all we know, they put a spell on Y/N to make her forget them.”

“Then what are we gonna do?!” Dean demanded.

“You and Cas try to find that witch,” Sam jumped in, trying to find a way to keep panic down. “We already have a head start, since we were pretty sure one was in the area anyway. You know where most of the strange activity was, start there. Rowena and I will stay here, try and see if there’s an undo spell.”

Dean didn’t hesitate to agree. If he wasn’t so preoccupied worrying over you, he would’ve been very proud of Sam, stepping up while he was panicking. Now that Dean had a direction, he was calmer—he was ready.

“Ok. Let’s go.”

…

“Please don’t leave me.”

Dean and Cas had already left, and Rowena and Sam were halfway out of your room when you tear-strained voice reached Sam. He turned to face you, and his resolve to hit the books in the library crumbled when he saw you, shaking in fear and taking shallow, painful breaths.

“Bring me some books to look through,” he muttered to Rowena before coming to sit on your bed.

It was silent in your room for a few deafening seconds, before your shattered gaze met Sam’s and you spoke, breaking his heart.

“I don’t wanna die, Sammy.”

“Hey,” Sam turned to face you, resisting once again the urge to pull you into his arms. “Me and Dean are never gonna let that happen. You know that, right?”

“It-it hurts to breathe,” you cried. “And it keeps getting worse. I don’t—I don’t know how long I can do it.”

“Hey, hey…” Sam was reaching for you when he remembered that that would only make you hurt worse. His hand froze in the air, halfway to your face. “I…” Sam‘s voice cracked. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Don’t…don’t say that, ok? You have to keep fighting, ok? We’re gonna find a way to fix this, but you just have to keep fighting.” Sam was so desperate to hug you that he pulled his sleeves over his hand to cover his skin and pulled you into his arms. You allowed it for several seconds, wanting so desperately to just sink into his arms. But you couldn’t.

“That…” you struggled to get the words out; you didn’t want to say them. “That hurts, too, Sammy.”

Sam flinched back like he’d been shot, looking down at you in utter defeat.

“I’m…I’m sorry,” he mumbled.

The despair in the room was total.

…

“I’ve got it!”

Sam regretted his outburst when you jolted awake. Rowena had warned the both of you that sleeping might end up making you hurt more rather than feel better, but you had all but passed out from exhaustion and pain, and Sam didn’t have the heart to stop you. Even in sleep, or body and face twitched in pain periodically.

Now that you were awake, it was obvious that Rowena was right; it had made it worse.

“What—“ your breathing was labored as each breath pained you. “What happened?”

Rowena stepped into the room, having heard Sam’s declaration.

“I found the spell,” Sam insisted, holding the book up. Rowena approached him with a dubious frown. However, once she started to read the spell she slowly nodded.

“This might just do it,” she said.

“I’m gonna call Dean.”

…

Dean and Cas returned within an hour.

“Not a single lead,” Dean said, annoyed. “So this had better work.”

“Let’s hope so,” Sam sighed, looking at Rowena. She nodded.

“It’s a good thing that this bunker is well-stocked,” she said. “I believe we’re running out of time.”

Your gaze turned downwards when everyone glanced at you at Rowena’s words. Sure enough, your breaths had been getting shallower and shorter in your failed attempts to make them hurt less. You were also weak and pale from the lack of food and water you’d had over the past two days.

“Do it.” Dean was the first to look away from you as he spoke to Rowena.

Rowena handed you a cup filled with a mixture of herbs and things you didn’t want to know about. Your lip was quivering as you lifted the cup to your lips—you’d avoided food and water for a reason; if breathing was like a stab to the chest, how would swallowing down a potion feel?

Sam’s heart was breaking as he watched you struggle to swallow through the pain, and Dean couldn’t even look.

As soon as you had the potion down, Rowena started reading a Latin incantation from the book. Sam watched you carefully as Rowena finished it. He crossed his fingers behind his back, holding his breath as he hoped that your own would become less labored. Instead, your eyes widened in surprise as your breaths became even more panicked.

“What’s happening?” Dean demanded, his eyes flashing from you to Rowena. “What did you do?!”

“I-I don’t understand…” Rowena muttered, flipping through the book. “It should have…”

“Sam…De…” you whimpered.

Dean’s panicked eyes met Sam’s, then yours, before they went back to Rowena.

“Found it!” Rowena breathed relief, before her eyes once again clouded with worry. “Oh no.”

“What?” Sam and Dean demanded in unison.

“The-the counterspell…it takes an hour to work, and as it works through the curse, the curse…fights back.”

“What does that mean?” Dean’s breathing sounded almost as labored as yours as he struggled to keep down his fear as well as his anger.

“It means that it’ll get worse before it gets better. If we…if we had found this at the beginning, it would’ve worked easily, but…”

“But she might not survive an hour like this,” Cas finished for Rowena, realizing what she was saying before either brother.

“What can we do?” Sam asked.

“Nothing.” Rowena shook her head. “This spell was her only hope, so…so we just have to wait and see if she outlasts the curse now. It shouldn’t take any more than an hour.”

“Ok,” Dean said, coming to sit by you. “You can do this kiddo, ok? We’re gonna be right here, you’re gonna be fine.”

The seconds crawled by one eternity at a time. Every time Dean thought you couldn’t look more in pain, your face twisted again as you tried over and over to take a deep enough breath to satisfy your starving lungs. Once it reached fifteen minutes left, Dean noticed that every minute or so you stopped breathing completely.

“Hey, c’mon.” Dean resisted the urge to cup your face. “C’mon keep breathing, you can do it.”

Suddenly you were reaching your arms out to Dean, and he was backing away.

“I-I don’t want to hurt you,” Dean said.

“Don’t…care,” You whimpered. “I…n-need y—“ you couldn’t seem to get out full words, but Dean didn’t need anything more.

“Ok, yeah.” You were in Dean’s arms in a second. “Ok, I’m here sweetheart. I’m here, you just gotta keep breathing. Keep breathing for me.”

You burrowed against your big brother despite the pain, trying all you could to keep breathing. The pain was so blindingly unbearable that you started to feel your vision blur and blacken. Sam was the first to notice you drooping in Dean’s arms, and he reached down and pulled your face away from Dean’s chest so he could look at you.

“Hey, you gotta stay awake honey,” Sam insisted.

“Don’t let her sleep!” Rowena commanded. “Her body will stop breathing automatically if she passes out.”

“Hey, hey,” Dean’s gentle taps to your face felt like full-on punches, but they did the trick. Your eyes fluttered open once more, and your hands gripped onto Dean even harder. Sam had joined Dean on your bed, his one arm wrapped around your shoulders from behind while Dean continued to hold you in his lap. Their touch was like fire on your skin, but never had a burn been so welcome.

“Keep breathing,” Dean was repeating over and over, and without that mantra you truly would have stopped ten minutes ago.

“Seven more minutes,” Cas announced.

You went to take another small breath, and you couldn’t keep the cry of pain in when it was the worst pain yet. It hit you so hard that you felt the darkness returning.

“No no no, hey,” Dean pleaded. “Breathe kiddo, you’ve gotta keep breathing.”

You’d barely even noticed that you stopped. It felt so good to stop. The pain of your unfilled lungs wasn’t nearly as horrible as the pain of breathing.

The relief was so great that you barely even felt when the blackness finally took over, and you slumped in Dean’s arms.

…

“No no no no…” Dean was shaking you over and over, but you were out cold. “Come on, breathe!”

“Six minutes,” Castiel said.

“She won’t last that long,” Sam breathed.

“It-it’s not an exact science,” Rowena cut in. “It might…maybe it will work a little faster.”

With nothing else to do, the four watched, barely breathing, as your body lay unnaturally still on your bed. Cas was watching his watch like a guard dog, counting the seconds until you would have brain damage…until you could die…

The great, gasping breath that escaped your lips as you sat up had all four onlookers nearly crying in relief. Sam and Dean had already been crying, but even the witch and the angel couldn’t hold in their emotions anymore as you began to breathe deeply again, tears of relief streaming down your own face.

Dean held you in his arms without fear, and you clung to him without pain. Sam’s arm was still around your shoulders—he hadn’t moved an inch.

“You’re ok,” Dean breathed as you cried on his shirt, and no one was sure if he was reassuring you or himself. “You’re ok sweetheart, I’ve got you.”

You refused to let go of your brothers, having spent two days unable to take comfort in them when you needed them most. The three of you stayed like that for so long that eventually Rowena left, but Cas stayed to watch over the Winchesters he had sworn to protect—to watch over the one he’d almost lost.

He watched silently as the three siblings fell asleep—you first, then Sam, then—once he was sure that his little brother and sister were ok—finally Dean.

He watched, knowing that they had almost lost everything today.

He watched, knowing that they would only be closer because of it.

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl

#dean winchester #the winchesters #dean and sam #dean winchester x reader #supernatural dean #dean winchester x you #winchesters x reader #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #winchesters x sister #dean winchester x little sister!reader #dean winchester x sister #sam winchester x sister!reader #spn sam winchester #sam winchester x little sister!reader #sam and dean #sam and dean x child!reader #castiel & winchester!reader #castiel x winchester!reader #castiel & reader #castiel x reader #spn castiel #castiel #sam x sister!reader #dean x reader

[melodic-haze]

HIIIII, I NEED MORE SUB ARLECCHINO CONTENT PLEASE I'M BEGGING YOU 😭😭

☆ — DEMO TRACK: sub!Arlecchino x dom!Reader pt. 3

☆ — TYPE: NSFW

☆ — CONTENT WARNINGS: Dacryphilia, squirting, other than that it's soft sex 🤷‍♀️

☆ — NOTES: THANK YOUBFOR GIVING ME ANOTHER REASON TO WRITE HER LOLLLLL

☆ — PARTS: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 (you are here)

Saur I've raved on about ROUGH sex Arlecchino but yk what's special? Soft sex with Arlecchino

This woman's been through HELL in her life. Even if she was already "cold and unfeeling", she describes herself, there's only so much a person like that can take before she reaches a breaking point. Really, she definitely already has, the poor girl

She's shut herself off from anyone that isn't in her inner circle, and even THEN they still find it hard to get her to open up

But like. They're not you so 😜

I feel like as much as she is all for it rough, she's actually much more hesitant to recieve a gentler touch. Kindness and love in any form is smth she isn't used to—aside from her children, the one figure that supplied her with that is dead with her past. Being with you was already enough of a stretch, now you want to show her how much you care for her? It's.. scary, like a sudden blackout as a child

Reassure her that it'll all be okay, please. Tell her that you'll take care of her properly and that she can let go of the walls she's built around herself this whole time to defend herself. Give her an easy out if she genuinely isn't ready for such a different form of an emotionally-charge exchange. When she's ready, she'll give you a wordless nod before tugging at your clothes

You take it slow with her by hugging her at first, letting her settle down like you're lulling a scared, hurt predator back into safety. Your hands slowly and carefully wander around her body as your lips press soft kisses on pale skin, with the exposed areas increasing as you take your time in taking her clothes off

She reciprocates in action, though her hands often still on your skin, lightly squeezing you as if there's a chance that you might fade away and this has been nothing but a delusion of hers. Take one of her hands in yours and press a kiss on her palm as you reassure her that you are right here and you aren't leaving her and that you are going to show her how much you love her to the point where she doesn't even know what to do w herself :(

As you take your time undressing each other, you lead her to the bed and sit her down on the edge by kissing her and pushing her down, and you feel her hum as she tries to settle her breathing. She lets you take the lead, not just because she gives you all the power over her behind closed doors but because she's in unfamiliar territory—hell, even when I said she needs it HARD to actually feel it, just the soft, caring gestures you're making is enough to make her shiver in need for you

Neither of you knew just how much of an effect it would have on her, but it's VERY clear when it's as it somehow her sensitivity had gone up quite a few levels from the way she's practically whimpering at you whenever you praise her for being so good for you.....that you're going to take such good care of her.......that you won't ever leave her alone..........

You kiss every inch of her body, leaving marks here and there against gorgeous pale skin. You mark her up from top to bottom, switching back and forth between branding her as safely yours and kissing her dumb and drinking her in. You practically sing praises and words of reassurance to this broken example of a person, telling her that you're going to give her so much pleasure and so much care that she wouldn't know what to do with herself.

By the time you finally press your fingers and rub on where the Harbinger needed you most? She's so utterly wet despite the lack of impact and roughness to your minstrations. And when you finally sink your fingers in within her, as if locking the both of you together, you hear a sob that leads you to look up in worry, thinking you've done something wrong.

..But if you did, then she could easily push you away, right?

When you finally see her face, her glossy eyes, her tears that slowly run down from her perfect face, you find your answer with that beautiful feeling of arousal rising within you at the sight.

She isn't mad at you, you hadn't done anything wrong. If anything, she's begging you to move within her.

"Please," she says as her blackened hands reach down to grab yours in an effort to insert you even deeper, her hips grinding on your palm, "I need you, I..."

She needs you.

Needing someone isn't an easy thing for the 'cold and unfeeling Father' to admit, and yet here she was.

And who were you, to refuse your lover's needs?

It's a tender exchange, one that's entirely new to your relationship. At first glance at her in a normal setting, perhaps even at a time before you two were together, and you wouldn't even think that she'd be crying underneath you at how good you make her feel, sobbing out heavy proclamations of love and clinging to you as you take your time in bringing her to her pleasure

Usually the pain you would inflict on her would've dulled out any other external pain she would've been experiencing—emotional pain, pain from the curse she bears—and yet for some reason it's as if you were guarding her from all of it, nullifying the effects they have on her and protecting her in your hold despite the obvious power gap between you

It takes her a while to cum. Not because it's hard for her to do so (it may actually be the easiest it's ever felt), but because not only does she want to savour this feeling of being taken care of for once, she's also waiting for your command. And when you do, it's as if a dam broke within her

She cums so fucking hard you wouldn't even have thought that you were going at it softly, though really maybe this was what she needed the entire time. And it probably didn't help that you dragged this on for such a long time too. All that pent-up release finally gets let out and she practically screams at the overwhelming feeling, with you helping her ride her high

Her legs shake, her thighs are involuntarily bucking up and she glitches violently for a brief moment that you can't help but feel slightly worried (you laugh about it later, much to her expense) but then you feel something warm squirt out of her. You look down and see it as she goes to claw the sheets—you couldn't help but smile.......and maybe indulge yourself a little

Your hand speeds up its minstrations, even as she comes down, and she look at you with slightly wide eyes as she basically starts up all over again. You just want one more from her, surely your pretty baby can do that, right? All for you?

Doesn't take long for her to squirt again, the corners of your eyes creasing with undisguised wonder and unfiltered love for her as she cums herself silly until no energy is left in her body. Hell, with the show she practically put out, it's not a surprise when you realise that you came with her

As you two settle down and you both lie on the bed, all wet and sweaty (though you can't bring yourself to care right now, why you have Arlecchino breathing heavily beside you), she wants so badly to return the favour. But you tell her that her enjoying the moment was all you needed. You both just lay there wordlessly after, perhaps even tangling your limbs together and kissing each other tenderly and showing how much you love each other

Arlecchino is a powerful woman in the end, much more powerful than you despite the reversed dynamic you have with each other, so it doesn't take long before she regains her stamina. She tells you to stay there (though you don't really have the energy to get up anyway) before she goes off to run the bath and bring back a glass of water for you. She treats you less like a cold and unfeeling woman and more of a warm and caring lover, utterly devoted to you, as she brings you to the tub and places you in front of her to clean you up and service you in any way, shape or form you want

It's really funny when it's you who fucked her silly and yet YOU'RE the one getting pampered, but she wouldn't have it any other way

And when you finally get out and get ready to sleep? When she hugs you, clings to you in your rest, you know full well that she has never been more devoted, more reassured, more loved than when she's with you

She's not alone and unloved anymore. You've made sure of that.

#hazy demos! #hazy explicits! #arlecchino #genshin arlecchino #genshin impact arlecchino #arlecchino x reader #arlecchino smut #sub arlecchino #genshin impact #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact x reader #sub genshin impact #genshin impact smut #genshin #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #sub genshin #genshin smut #dom reader #gn reader #genshin women #genshin women x reader

[drafthorsemath]

Brotherly Love

Synopsis: Crosshair can't sleep and Tech appears to him as a force ghost. Lots of comfort.

A/N: I need some kind of conclusion for my brain. Whether you accept the finale and that Tech is dead, I think I need to get this out of my system to grieve.

Word Count: 846

It was nearly pitchblack in the bedroom, save for a sliver of a moonbeam shining through the window. Pabu was quiet this time of night and usually Crosshair found comfort in that. Tonight though, he was struck by sadness. He thought of Tech and the nights they'd spend together as cadets. Crosshair's eyes would hurt from the bright lights on Kamino after long days of training. Tech would turn off the lights, get into bed with him, and read to him. Crosshair smiled as he thought about all the different things Tech read. History, science, even the occasional holonovel. He would always find comfort laying next to his brother and hearing his voice. He wished he could hear him again now.

Crosshair sat up in bed and sighed as he looked out the window. He could swear he felt Tech's hand on his shoulder; steady and comforting as it always was. He sniffled and leaned into the sensation, only to realize that it wasn't just a figment of his imagination.

"Tech?!" Crosshair jumped up and turned to see a kind of blue light around what he could have swore was his brother. "What the kriff?!"

"Yes," Tech replied, examining his glowing limbs with curiosity. "I could ask the same thing."

Crosshair reached out to try to touch him. He felt a presence and yet could see through him.

"Is it really you?" Crosshair asked.

"Of course it's really me," Tech replied with an eye roll.

"How are you doing this?" Crosshair asked.

"I am unsure," came the honest answer. "However, matter is never created nor destroyed. It simply changes form. For whatever reason, this is the form I am currently taking."

Crosshair sat back down and without warning, sharply inhaled and let out a sob. Tech put his hand back on his brother's shoulder.

"I've missed you," Crosshair said, trying to compose himself.

"I'm still here," Tech said. "I've always thought of you before I fell and I've been with you since. I cannot fully explain the latter part."

"This is the first time I've seen you like this, though," Crosshair noted.

Tech nodded. They sat in silence for several minutes. Crosshair somehow understood now. All those times he felt like Tech was with him and he tried to suppress the feeling for fear it wasn't true when in reality, his brother had never left him.

"Tech?"

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry," Crosshair looked into his brother's familiar eyes and couldn't help but let a tear slip despite his best efforts. "I'm sorry I didn't leave the Empire sooner. I missed out on time with you. I should have done better."

Tech shook his head and pulled Crosshair into a hug.

"I am just glad you came home," Tech said. Both men felt relief. Relief that there were no hard feelings between them and that they cared for each other as they always had.

After awhile longer, Tech asked, "Shouldn't you be getting some rest?"

"I don't want to wake up and find you're not here."

"I'll still be here, Crosshair. Even if you can't see me and I promise I'll do my best to show up so you can. There has to be some interesting science behind this and now I have an infinite amount of time to try to figure it out."

Crosshair chuckled. That was so like him. Then, even though Tech had changed form, Crosshair could sense his brother had a question as easily as if they'd both been there in the flesh.

"What is it?" Crosshair asked.

"Are you going to get a prosthetic for your hand?"

"I'm not sure yet. I still have my left hand and Echo's given me some tips on getting by."

"If you do get a prosthesis I would be happy to help you optimize its utility."

"Can you even hold a spanner?" Crosshair asked dryly.

"I'm sitting on your bed and just gave you a hug. If I can do that, I do not see why I cannot use tools to fix something."

"Fair point," Crosshair replied with a grin. "I'll let you know."

Without a word, Crosshair and Tech both laid down as they had done when they were cadets. Instead of reading, they talked about their brothers and Omega. How much time it took them to truly relax on Pabu after the intensity of all that had happened. How Omega was growing, having something of a childhood, and how her piloting skills were improving all the time. They were both filled with pride in her.

It took awhile, but Crosshair finally let himself sleep, still feeling his brother right next to him. When he woke up in the morning, he startled a bit. He couldn't see Tech anymore. His eyes searched his room, but Tech was no where to be found. Had it been a dream? Was his brain taunting him? Just as he wanted to curse these mind games, he felt Tech's hand on his shoulder again and took a deep breath. Tech was still there. Crosshair would never have to be alone again.

#the bad batch #tbb #tbb spoilers #the bad batch spoilers #crosshair #tech #force ghost tech #tbb crosshair #tbb tech #brotherly love

[pin-k-ink]

the sequel // suna rintarou

tw ⇢ childhood friends to lovers, so much angst, hurt/comfort, alcohol consumption, yearning, happy ending

wc ⇢ 5k

a/n: i never cried so much while writing something

Suna felt like he was watching a movie. A sad, tragic fucking movie that he couldn't tear his eyes away from no matter how much it hurt to keep looking.

Frame by frame, moment by excruciating moment, he watched you - his best friend, the love of his life - fall in and out of love with someone else. Again.

If his life really was a movie...what role would he play? The sidekick? The comic relief? No, he decided with a bitter twist of his lips. He wasn't even important enough for that. He was just an extra. A background character that no one noticed or cared about.

Someone who faded into the scenery while the bright, beautiful protagonist - that was you, always you - took center stage and shone.

Suna had known you his entire life. His earliest memories all featured you, front and center, with him orbiting around you like a satellite, like a moth drawn to a flame.

You'd taken your first wobbling steps together, hands clasped and eyes wide with wonder. Babbled your first words to each other in a language only you two could understand. Gotten into mischief and skinned your knees and learned about the world side by side.

For as long as he could remember, you'd been his constant, his touchstone. His north star. The axis his whole world turned on. Life without you was unfathomable. Unthinkable.

But somehow, as the years scrolled by like frames on a reel...Suna started to feel like he was watching from a distance. Like there was an invisible wall between you, thin as glass but strong as steel, that he could never quite break through.

No matter how close you were, how many secrets you traded and inside jokes you laughed over and half-spoken conversations you could hold with just a glance...you always felt just a little bit out of reach. Like a mirage that would dissolve into mist if he tried to touch. Something too good to be true, too precious for the likes of him to grasp.

And how could he even think of reaching out, of trying to hold onto you the way he desperately wanted to? How could a mere background character ever hope to stand alongside the radiant lead, the brightest spot in every scene?

No, Suna was content to stay in the shadows. To watch and support and be there in whatever way you needed him, even as it killed him by inches. As long as he could keep you in his life, as long as he got to stay by your side...that would be enough. It had to be.

But god, it was getting harder. Harder to paste on a carefree smile and listen to you gush about your latest boyfriend. Harder to swallow the jealousy and longing clogging his throat when he watched you with stars in your eyes, so incandescently happy in someone else's arms.

Harder to bite his tongue against the confessions that always wanted to spill out, to choke back the pleas and promises and declarations his treacherous heart whispered in the dark.

"I love you," he wanted to say, every minute of every day. "I've always loved you. You're my forever, my reason, my home. Pick me. Choose me. See me. I swear I'll spend my life making you happy, if you'll just let me try."

But he never said it. Never took that leap of faith, too terrified of shattering the fragile status quo. Too scared of losing you entirely.

So he stayed quiet, stayed still, even as he felt like he was cracking apart inside. He watched you fall in love again and again, watched each bright-eyed boy promise you forever. Watched your smile dim and your shoulders droop when they inevitably let you down, broke your big, beating heart so carelessly.

It was a particular kind of agony, holding you while you cried over someone else. Seeing the light go out of your eyes, powerless to do anything but wipe away your tears and murmur empty platitudes. Every hitched sob was a barb in his skin, every sniffle a dagger to his ribs.

He wanted to shake you sometimes, wanted to scream "Why can't you see what's right in front of you? Why can't you see how much I love you? How I would never, ever hurt you the way they do?"

But he never did. Just folded you close and stroked your hair and let you dampen his shirt with your grief. Let you give him tiny glimpses of the mosaic of cracks in your chest before you pasted on a wobbly smile and soldiered on, determined not to let the world see you bleed.

Those cracks scared him. Scared him in a bone-deep way few things ever had. Because he lived in dread of the day they splintered apart entirely. The day your seemingly endless capacity for love and joy and trust finally ran dry, bled out by a thousand careless cuts.

He couldn't bear the thought of your light going out forever. Of those glorious eyes going flat and dull, that incandescent smile withering on the vine. You were the sun and he was just a planet in your orbit - he genuinely didn't know if he could survive without your warmth. Without you, everything would wither.

So he would endure. He would be your rock, your safe harbor, your shelter from every storm. Even if it killed him, even if he shattered to pieces in the process, he would hold you together.

Because a world without your laughter, without your brilliant, untamable spirit...that was no world at all. And maybe his love could be enough to keep you shining. Maybe if he believed hard enough, if he poured enough of his own flickering light into you...you would be okay.

And just maybe, someday...you would turn that supernova smile on him. Maybe you would finally, finally see him. Not as a background character, not as a sidekick...but as a man who loved you with every fiber of his being.

As someone who had been there all along, just waiting for you to look a little closer. To see the shape of his devotion, the staggering depth of his feelings written in every line of his face, his heart in his eyes and your name carved into his bones.

But until that impossible day, he would watch. He would wait. He would bide his time until the credits rolled and the movie ended...and just pray that there would be a sequel. One where he finally got to step out of the background and into the spotlight of your eyes.

Where you were his co-star, his partner, his love. Where you wrote a new story together, one frame at a time, and the only tears were happy ones.

It was a beautiful dream, fragile and gossamer and so painfully far out of reach. But it was all he had, so he clung to it in the hidden depths of his heart and kept watching the scenes play out.

Kept hoping that someday, if he was patient enough, if he loved you hard enough...the dream would become reality.

And you would finally, finally be his.

As the years scrolled by, Suna watched you grow and change, always from a step behind. He watched you navigate the perilous waters of adolescence, cheering you on as you blossomed into a beautiful, vibrant young woman. Watched you stumble and pick yourself back up, watched you learn and evolve and become more yourself with every passing day.

He was there for all of it, every milestone and heartbreak, every triumph and disappointment. When you got your first period and cried from embarrassment, he was the one who biked to the store for pads and chocolate, the one who held you and reassured you that it was all normal and okay.

When you got your heart broken for the first time at sixteen, he was the one who showed up at your window with ice cream and terrible movies, the one who let you sob into his chest and rail against the unfairness of it all.

When you got accepted into your dream college, he was the first person you called, screaming with joy down the line. He'd shut his eyes against the sting of tears, against the yawning ache in his chest at the thought of you leaving him behind...and told you how proud he was, how happy he was for you.

Always, always, he was your person. Your touchstone, your safe place. The one who knew you inside and out, backward and forward and every way in between. He was there in all the big moments...and all the little ones in between that made up a life.

Like the lazy summer afternoons spent lounging in the park, shoulders brushing as you read your respective books, content to just exist in the same space. The midnight walks under a canopy of stars, hands casually entwined, no words needed in the warm, honeyed dark.

The cups of coffee he'd bring you on drowsy mornings, made just the way you liked. The way you'd curl into his side during scary movies, face hidden trustingly in the curve of his neck, his arm a protective shield around you.

All those insignificant, in-between moments...they were everything to Suna. He hoarded them like a miser, turned them over and over in his mind like precious gems on nights when the ache in his chest got too big to breathe around.

Each one was a flicker of light, a tiny ember of hope that maybe, someday...you would see. You would understand just how much he loved you, how much he had always loved you. You would realize that he was right there, that he had been there all along, just waiting for you to really look at him.

But you never did. Your eyes always seemed to skim right over him, to look through him like he was made of glass, transparent and inconsequential. He was furniture to you, he sometimes thought despairingly. Part of the scenery of your life, always there but never really seen.

Never the one you wanted, the one you yearned for. He was the one you settled for, the one you came back to when the newest bright-eyed boy let you down. The one you cried on, the one you leaned on...but never the one you loved. At least, not the way he wanted you to.

God, how he wished you would love him. It was a physical ache, a bone-deep longing that never went away no matter how hard he tried to ignore it. He felt hollowed out with it, scraped raw and empty.

Late at night, he let himself imagine it. Let himself paint a picture of a world where you wanted him back, where you looked at him with even a fraction of the desperate, clawing need he felt for you.

In his weakest moments, he let himself believe it could be real. That someday, you would wake up and realize that he was everything you'd ever wanted, that he could make you happy in a way no one else ever could.

That you would take his face in your hands, eyes wide and wondering like you were seeing him for the first time. That you would breathe his name like a prayer, like a revelation, and kiss him with a tenderness that set his soul alight.

That you would tell him you loved him, that you were sorry for taking so long to understand, but you wanted to make up for lost time. That you wanted to be his, wholly and completely, for the rest of your lives.

It was a beautiful dream, fragile and perfect as a soap bubble. But like a bubble, it always burst, leaving him blinking away stinging tears and feeling like a fool.

Because this wasn't a movie, no matter how much it felt like one sometimes. There was no guarantee of a happy ending, no artful resolution scripted in the stars.

In the real world, the guy pining in the background didn't always get the girl. Sometimes he just stayed in the background forever, watching her life happen without him, until the credits rolled and the lights came up on his lonely little corner of the world.

But oh, how he wanted to believe. He would never be the leading man, he knew that. He was too quiet, too steady, too content to let you shine while he basked in your reflected glow. You needed someone as brilliant and dazzling as you, someone who could match you spark for spark and set the world on fire.

Someone braver than him. Someone who would risk it all for a chance at your heart, instead of staying safe and silent on the sidelines.

He wasn't that guy. He never would be. But a tiny, desperate part of him still held out hope that maybe, someday...he could be enough for you, just as he was. That even if he wasn't the star of the show, he could still be an integral part of your story.

The one who was always there to catch you when you stumbled, to hold you up when you couldn't stand on your own. The one who knew your secrets and your scars, your hopes and your fears. The one who loved every messy, imperfect, beautiful inch of you, unconditionally and irrevocably.

Maybe he could be your co-star, your partner in crime and love and life. Maybe you could write a new story together, one where the quiet, steadfast best friend got his chance to step into the light and be seen, really seen, by the only eyes that had ever mattered.

It was a slim hope, gossamer-thin and liable to tear at the slightest touch. But it was all Suna had, so he held it close and carried it with him, a tiny flicker of light in the dark.

And he kept watching, kept waiting. Kept loving you with everything he had, even as it wore him down to the bone. He would play his role in your movie, would be whatever you needed him to be...until the day came when he could finally step out from the background and into your arms.

Until the day when "I love you" wasn't just a secret whispered in the dark, but a vow made in the light of your smile, your hands in his and your heart beating against his chest.

Until the day when the movie of his life finally got its happy ending...and you were right there beside him, radiant and real, as the screen faded to black and the credits rolled on a love story for the ages.

He just had to hold on until then. Just had to keep believing, keep loving, keep watching.

Because in the end, he knew it would all be worth it. You would always be worth it.

Even if it took a lifetime, even if it killed him...he would wait for you.

Always.

As the years went by and you both grew older, Suna watched you evolve and change in a thousand tiny ways. He watched you graduate college, watched you land your dream job and move into your first adult apartment. Watched you navigate the ups and downs of adult life with the same resilient grace he'd always admired, always loved.

Through it all, he was there. Your constant, your touchstone. The one you called when you got a promotion, voice bubbling with excitement. The one you leaned on when your grandma died, eyes swollen and voice thick with grief.

He was the one who helped you move, lugging boxes up endless flights of stairs and quietly assembling IKEA furniture while you flitted around like a hummingbird, arranging and rearranging. The one who showed up at your door with soup and medicine when you got the flu, who sat with you and watched terrible reality TV until you fell asleep on his shoulder.

He was woven into every part of your life, as essential and invisible as air. Always there, always just a phone call or a text away. Your best friend, your rock, your safe harbor in every storm.

But still, even as you grew closer than ever...there was a distance there. A wall that Suna could never quite breach, no matter how hard he tried. Because no matter how much of your life you shared with him, no matter how many secrets you whispered into the dark...there was always a part of you that held back.

A part that you kept locked away, hidden behind bright smiles and breezy deflections. The part that held your heart, your deepest hopes and dreams and fears. The part that Suna longed to know, to understand...but that you never quite let him see.

It hurt, that distance. It ate at him like acid, slow and corrosive. Because he wanted all of you, every messy, complicated, beautiful part. He wanted to crack you open and crawl inside, to burrow into the hidden depths of your soul and make a home there.

He wanted to be the one you turned to with your whole heart, the one you trusted with your most vulnerable self. He wanted to be your person in every sense of the word, not just the one you leaned on but the one you loved, the one you chose.

But you never did. No matter how much he longed for it, no matter how many nights he spent staring at the ceiling and wishing...you never saw him as anything more than a friend. A best friend, sure, but still just...a friend.

And god, it was getting harder to bear. Harder to swallow back the words that always wanted to spill out, the confessions and pleas and promises. Harder to bite his tongue and smile when you gushed about your latest boyfriend, to offer a sympathetic ear and a shoulder to cry on when they inevitably let you down.

He felt like he was drowning, sometimes. Like he was being slowly crushed under the weight of all the unspoken things, all the pent-up love and longing and desperation. He felt like he was fading away, bit by bit, worn thin by the constant effort of holding himself together, of keeping his heart locked away behind a friendly smile and an easy laugh.

He wasn't sure how much longer he could do it. Wasn't sure how much more he could take before he shattered completely, before he just...broke.

But what choice did he have? He couldn't lose you. Couldn't bear the thought of a life without you in it, even if being near you was slowly killing him. You were oxygen to him, necessary and vital. Cutting you out would be like cutting out his own heart.

So he endured. He swallowed the hurt and the jealousy and the desperate, clawing need, and he was there. Always, always there, waiting in the wings. Waiting for you to see him, to really see him.

Waiting for his chance to step out of the background and into the light of your love.

It was getting harder to hold onto hope, some days. Harder to believe that there would ever be a right time, a perfect moment. That he would ever find the courage to lay his heart at your feet and beg you to take it, to cherish it the way he'd always cherished you.

But he had to believe. It was all he had, this fragile flicker of faith. The tiniest spark of possibility, glowing in the dark.

So he fanned it carefully, tended it like the precious thing it was. He held it close on the nights when the loneliness got too much to bear, when the ache in his chest made it hard to breathe. Whispered it to himself like a mantra, a prayer:

Someday. Someday. Someday.

Someday, you would see. Someday, you would understand. Someday, he would be brave enough, strong enough, to reach out and grasp the future he wanted so desperately.

Someday, your movie would reach its climax. The music would swell, the camera would pan in...and he would finally, finally step into his destiny. Into the starring role he'd always been meant to play, the one he'd been rehearsing for his whole life.

He would take your hands in his, look into your eyes...and he would say it. The words that had been living in his throat for years, the ones that beat against his ribs like caged birds, desperate for freedom.

"I love you," he would say, simple and honest and achingly true. "I've always loved you. And I know I'm not the kind of guy you usually go for, I know I'm not exciting or flashy or whatever, but...I'm here. I've always been here. And I always will be, if you'll let me. Because you're it for me. You're everything."

And maybe, just maybe...you would hear him. Really hear him, the way you never had before. Maybe you would look at him with new eyes, with dawning realization and wonder and joy.

Maybe you would see all the love he'd been holding back, see the shape of his devotion in every line of his face. Maybe you would understand that he was your person, your forever...just like you were his.

"Oh," you would breathe, soft and reverent. "Oh, Suna. I...I never knew. I never saw..."

"I know," he would whisper, leaning in to rest his forehead against yours. "I know, baby. But I'm here now. And I'm not going anywhere. Not ever again."

And then...then you would kiss him. Soft and sweet and filled with promise, filled with all the love he'd always dreamed of. You would wind your arms around his neck and press close, and he would hold you like he'd always longed to, like you were the most precious thing in the universe.

Because you were. God, you were. And finally, finally...you were his.

His best friend. His soulmate. His happy ending, the one he'd always been chasing.

The credits would roll, the music would fade out...and a new story would begin.

The evening had started like countless others - just you and Suna, a few too many drinks, and a forgotten movie playing in the background as you laughed and joked and reminisced. It was comfortable, familiar, the kind of easy intimacy born from a lifetime of friendship.

But as the night wore on and the alcohol flowed, Suna found himself growing quiet, a melancholy settling over him like a fog. He watched you through increasingly blurry eyes, taking in the way the soft light played over your features, the way your laughter seemed to fill the room, bright and effervescent.

God, you were so beautiful. So vibrant, so full of life and joy and everything good in the world. And he loved you so much it hurt, a physical ache in his chest that never went away, no matter how hard he tried to ignore it.

"You know what's really pathetic?" he found himself saying, the words slipping out before he could bite them back.

You turned to him, head cocked, a curious smile playing about your lips. "What's that?"

Suna swallowed hard, suddenly feeling like he was standing on the edge of a cliff, toes curling over the precipice. He knew he should step back, laugh it off, change the subject. But the alcohol had loosened his tongue, lowered his inhibitions, and suddenly...suddenly he couldn't hold it in anymore.

"Me," he said, voice rough and scratchy with emotion. "I'm pathetic. Because I've been in love with you for so fucking long, and I've never had the balls to tell you."

Your eyes went wide, lips parting in shock, but Suna barreled on, the words pouring out of him like water from a burst dam.

"I've loved you since we were kids," he said, staring down at his hands, vision blurring with unshed tears. "Since the day you punched that kid for making fun of my haircut in third grade. Since the summer we were twelve and you broke your arm falling out of that tree, and you held my hand the whole way to the hospital even though you were the one in pain."

A smile flickered across his face, small and fond and aching. "I loved you when we were sixteen and you got your heart broken for the first time, and you cried on my shoulder for hours. I loved you when you accidentally burnt toast because you were singing in the kitchen. I loved you when we graduated high school, and you looked so beautiful in your cap and gown that it took my breath away."

He risked a glance up at you, finding you staring at him with a stricken expression, tears tracking silently down your cheeks. "I loved you through every boyfriend, every breakup, every lame movie night and inside joke and 2 AM phone call. I loved you on your best days and your worst days and every day in between."

Suna's voice broke then, a sob catching in his throat. "I love you now," he whispered, raw and ragged. "I love you so much it's like a physical thing, like a part of me. Like I can't breathe right when you're not around, can't think straight when you're near. You're in my veins, in my bones, in every beat of my fucking heart, and I...I can't keep pretending anymore."

The tears were flowing freely now, hot and fast down his face, but he made no move to wipe them away. "I know I'm not...I know I'm not what you want," he choked out, chest heaving with the force of his emotions. "I know I'm just your best friend, just the guy you call when you need a shoulder to cry on or someone to laugh with. But god, I want to be more. I want to be everything to you, the way you are to me."

He reached out with shaking hands, cupping your face, thumbs swiping at the tears painting your cheeks. "I love you," he breathed, pouring every ounce of longing, every shred of desperate devotion into the words. "I am so fucking in love with you, it's like...it's like I don't know how to be anything else. And I just...I needed you to know. Even if it ruins everything, even if you don't feel the same...I couldn't keep it in anymore. I couldn't keep lying to you, to myself."

Suna closed his eyes then, unable to bear the sight of your face, the pity or gentle rejection he knew must be written there. He felt flayed open, raw and exposed, heart lying shattered at your feet.

But then...then he felt your hands on his, warm and steady. Felt you lean in, forehead pressing against his own, the salt of your tears mingling with his.

"Suna, you idiot," you whispered, and he flinched, bracing for the blow. But your voice was soft, achingly tender, suffused with a warmth that made his eyes fly open in shock. "How could you not know? How could you not see that I...that I love you too? That I've always loved you, from the minute we met?"

He stared at you, hardly daring to breathe, to hope. But you were smiling through your tears, eyes shining with a light he'd never seen before. "You're not just my best friend," you said, hands sliding into his hair, cradling him like he was something precious. "You're my soulmate, my other half. The one person who knows me better than anyone, who's always been there, always loved me, even at my worst."

You pressed your lips to his forehead, his cheeks, the corners of his trembling mouth. "I love you, Suna Rintarou," you murmured against his skin, each word a benediction. "I'm in love with you. And if you want me...I'm yours. Forever."

A broken sob tore from Suna's throat, disbelief and joy and overwhelming relief crashing over him in a tidal wave. He surged forward, capturing your lips in a kiss that was messy and desperate and perfect, pouring every ounce of love, every year of longing into the press of his mouth on yours.

You kissed him back just as fiercely, hands fisting in his shirt, holding him close like you never wanted to let go. And god, he never wanted you to. He wanted to stay in this moment forever, wrapped up in you, in the love he'd craved for so long, the love he'd never dared to hope could be his.

When you finally broke apart, breathing hard, Suna couldn't stop touching you - hands skimming over your face, your hair, your shoulders, like he needed to convince himself this was real. That you were real, that this was happening.

"I love you," he rasped, resting his forehead against yours. "God, I love you so much."

You smiled, radiant and blinding, and pressed a kiss to the tip of his nose. "I love you too," you whispered. "Always have, always will."

And as Suna gathered you into his arms, as he buried his face in your hair and breathed you in...he felt something slot into place in his chest. A piece he hadn't even known was missing, a hole he'd carried for so long, suddenly filled by your love, your presence, your promise of forever.

From those early days when you first stumbled into each other's orbits, he'd watched your lives play out together like adjacent movies running on parallel screens. Two stories inching closer with each passing year, edging tantalizingly near but never quite converging into one. He was the yearning protagonist, you the luminous star burning bright just out of reach.

But now, in this transcendent moment, the projectors had merged. The credits were rolling on that old, achingly familiar film that had been his constant lonesome companion. And when the lights came up, when the screen flickered to brilliant new life...it was a sequel. Your sequel together at last, 3D and eye-searing in its vividness.

No longer was he resigned to loving you from afar, playing the supporting role in your story. Now you were his co-star, his perfectly matched lead - twin suns burning brilliantly side-by-side in their own cosmic romance.

This was just the beginning. Your beginning, the sequel he'd waited his entire existence to see... and it was more extraordinary than anything he could have ever imagined.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu angst #suna x reader #suna fluff #suna x reader fluff #suna rintarou #suna rintaro x reader

[salamandergoo]

STWG Prompt: Crack Fic

“Eddie, I need you to stay calm.”

Those were always the words Eddie wanted to hear when he was waking up out of a haze, sprawled across his bed with the blankets tangled around his limbs.  He smacked his lips a few times and grimaced at the taste in his mouth before sitting up and rubbing his eyes.  “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”  He untwisted his shirt and got out of bed, kicking dirty clothes on the floor aside as he yanked the door open.  “Why are you telling me to be calm?”  He yawned into his fist and froze in the middle of the hall.  “Wayne…?”

A hairless… thing was sat on the floor, pressed in close to his uncle’s leg.  It chirped and whined, sounding like a cat being mangled by a bird.  “I found him by my truck at the end of my shift.  Poor thing’s got a messed up leg, it was limping around looking all pathetic.”

“So you’re telling me, I can’t get a pet, but you get to drag this… this THING into our trailer?”

“I never said you couldn’t get a pet, I said you couldn’t keep a pregnant opossum, Ed.  This is different, he’s a hurt dog.  And we ain’t keeping him, he’s just going to stay a couple days until he’s walking better.”

“That’s not a dog!  Dogs don’t look like that!”  Eddie crept forward and squinted at the thing.  “It doesn’t have a face.  Or fur.”

“It was probably hit by a car.  One of them hairless terriers.”  Wayne shrugged off his jacket and took off his hat.  “Get it a little something to eat, will you?  I’m going to take a shower.”  He stepped away and the creature rumbled, standing up and hobbling after Wayne, head bumping against his ankle.  “I ain’t going far Benny.”  He bent and patted it on the side.

Eddie softened.  “Oh.  You… you’re calling it Benny?”

“Got a better name?”  Wayne didn’t quite meet Eddie’s eyes this time as he kept stroking the thing.  It leaned into the touches, its backside wiggled and, hey, it had a nub of a tail.  “It’s been almost a year.  Thought we ought to honor him somehow.”

“I don’t know what about a weird, naked dog reminds you of Benny, but… okay.  I’ll get it something to eat.”  Eddie made his way to the fridge, giving the thing- the dog- …Benny a wide berth.  He didn’t like the sounds it made, but Wayne was clearly taken with it.  “You keep a naked dog but not an opossum,” he grumbled.

He fixed a plate with some leftover chicken, scraping off as much of the seasoning as he could.  He could hear the shower running as he sat on the couch and set the plate on the floor.  “Come eat.  Dog.”  Eddie squinted at Benny while he sat by the bathroom door.  It was like he was staring at the door, but Eddie could’ve sworn the thing didn’t have eyes.  “Benny, come.”

It looked at him with its empty face before crossing the trailer.  It didn’t walk quite like a normal dog either, and not just because it the damaged leg..  It was like when Eddie would scramble up stairs and put his hands on the stairs like he was an animal so he could go faster.  It looked like it would just stand up on its back legs at some point.  It sniffed at the chicken and then opened its face.  Eddie clapped a hand over his mouth and watched in disturbed horror as it ate.

He didn’t dare move a muscle until Wayne was coming out of the bathroom with damp hair, changed into his lounge pants.  “Wayne.”  His voice was hushed and high pitched.  “Wayne, there’s something wrong with Benny.”

“Yeah, I know.  He was probably hit by a car.”

“His face OPENED!”

“My nana had a dog that was missing half his bottom jaw.  Looked ugly as sin but loved nothing more than a good lap to lay on.”  Wayne filled a mug with water and took a long drink.  “Benny must’ve healed wrong, doesn't make him less of a dog.”

“I don’t think he’s a dog at all!”  Eddie yelped when Benny turned his head to look up at him.  “I think you’ve brought a demon into our home.”

“Only demon in this house is you.”  Wayne dropped a hand on top of Eddie’s head and ruffled his already messy hair.  “We ain’t keeping him long.  I’m sure there’s someone nearby who can take better care of him than me.”  He set up his bed and grabbed his blanket.  “I’m gonna get some shut eye, so try and keep it down, alright?”

“…yup.”  Eddie watched as Wayne got settled and then watched Benny hop up onto the bed and curl up at Wayne’s feet.  He didn’t have a good feeling about it, but… Wayne seemed happy.  Lighter, somehow, with the dog on his bed.  Eddie could live with it for now.

But he’d be keeping a close eye out for any signs of what it actually was.  Because that was no dog.

#stwgdailyprompt #stranger things #eddie munson #wayne munson #demodog

[dyaz-stories]

open the blinds, let me see your face || gojo satoru x reader

synopsis: After the death of one of his former students, Satoru insists he's fine. He's lying.

word count: 1k

cw: canon compliant, teacher!reader, angst, minor character death, hurt/comfort, implied fwb relationship with gojo

a/n: reader is the same as in say my name and everything just stops (smut, please only read if you're comfortable with that)

soundtrack

You stand by the door of the morgue, leaning against the wall, arms folded against your chest. Less than an hour ago, you received Ijichi’s report. Factual, direct, stern words. A curse was misclassed. The exorcist sent to deal somehow still managed to complete the job, but passed away as he was being taken back. It’s a story you’ve heard before; it’s a story you’ll hear again.

Except this time, you knew that name.

Of course, you have a good knowledge of most registered exorcists in Japan. Your job requires that. This particular exorcist, you hadn’t met personally — but you’d heard stories.

He was one of the students Gojo taught during his first year as a teacher at Jujutsu High.

You know he’s already inside, and you don’t want to interrupt him at a time of grieving, but you couldn’t bring yourself to stay away.

Just a few minutes ago, Shoko passed by you, giving you a polite nod. She looked tired, unlit cigarette hanging from her lips as she entered the room. You know it’s only a matter of time before she starts handling the body, which means any moment now, Gojo will come out.

You’re not sure what you will do, not really sure why you’re here. You suppose what it comes down to is that you don’t know that he’ll have anyone else. The idea of him being alone, at such a time, makes your heart ache.

So you wait.

It’s a few minutes more before he steps out. He looks the same as he always does: blindfold on, hair an elegant mess, shoulders relaxed. A smile forms on his lips when he sees you, with just an instant of delay, just a moment too late, and in a few steps, he reaches you.

“Aw, did you miss me already?”

His tone is light, his body language playful, in the way he leans forward to tower over you.

You know better than to buy into it.

“I came to check on you,” you say. “I got Ijichi’s report.”

“Ah, about that?” he asks, pointing towards the closed doors. “That’s handled, don’t worry about it. Unfortunately,” a heavy sigh, “I’m afraid I got some things to take care of now, so I’m going to have to cut this short.”

He pulls away so fast all you can do is blink, turning away from you to keep walking. You follow after him, struggling to keep up with his wide strides.

“I’m fine,” he lies without so much as glancing in your direction. “It’s not the first person we lose.”

“Satoru,” you say, and he pauses for a second, tilting his head to look at you.

“Aw,” he teases, “pulling out the ‘Satoru’? You’re really worried aren’t ya?”

Annoyance bubbles inside of you, but you know that’s why he’s doing this. It would be so easy to throw your hands up and decide that he is fine and you should just let him be.

Except if you do that, he’ll truly be alone.

“I am,” you answer genuinely. It’s the best way you’ve found to deal with this. Honest, direct answers, engaging with what he means instead of his tone or behavior. You watch him swallow, and you know you’ve made the right call.

“I’m fine,” he says, a little colder this time.

“Satoru…” you say again, reaching out to touch his face — except your hand stops, a few inches away from his body.

It takes you a second to understand what happened, and once you do, cold washes over you. Outside of sparring session, he’s never used the Infinity to shut you out. You’re aware that the spell is active at all times. You’re also aware that he can choose what he does and does not let in.

“I really do have to go,” he tells you, no longer playful, but he does nothing to move away.

You don’t remove your hand.

After a few seconds, during which neither of you move, he sighs, and the spell allows you in. Gently, your fingers brush against his cheek, and he leans into your touch, ever so slightly.

“I’m fine,” he repeats for a third time, voice even weaker.

There is no need for you to be the strongest right now,’ you want to say. ‘You get to be weak, too,’ you want to say.

“You don’t have to be,” you say instead, cupping his cheek and lightly stroking it. The moment feels fragile. This is not what your relationship is supposed to be — but then again, it had never been just sex, either.

With a trembling sigh, Gojo’s body melts into you. His arms wrap around you, he buries his face in your neck, and he relaxes fully. The hallway is empty except for the two of you, and on another day maybe you would worry about getting caught. Today, it doesn’t matter, and you just close your arms around him, and let him be.

When he pulls away, long fingers tilt your head towards him, only the fingertips brushing against your skin, as if you were made of porcelain and he feared breaking you. He kisses you oh so softly, a caress of his mouth against yours. You press your lips back against his, tilting your head back to give him a better access. It only lasts a second — a second during which you can feel him containing himself — before he takes a step back.

“I need to go check that there’s nothing left out there,” he says, composing himself once more. “But I’ll make sure to visit you when I get back, m’kay?”

He points a finger at you, and you’re sure he’d be winking, if not for the blindfold.

You roll your eyes and scoff, letting him put the mask back on. It’s not the first time someone he knows dies, it won’t be the last either. Everyone, in this line of work, has come to terms with that — but Satoru Gojo is one of the few who never gets a moment to grieve, before he’s needed elsewhere.

“If you must.”

“Oh, but I must, you’d miss me too much if I didn’t, right?”

“If you wake me up, I swear you’ll regret it.”

“A small price to pay,” he grins. “I’ll see you soon.”

He’s gone in the blink of an eye, and you’re left standing in the hallway, alone.

He was right. You would have missed him.

just a quick little thing, hope you liked it! please consider reblogging and commenting to support me if you enjoy my work and would like to see more of it ^-^

you can find more of my gojo x reader writing here if you're interested

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo angst #jjk angst #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen angst #gojo imagine #gojo drabble #jujutsu kaisen drabble #my writing #jjk imagine #jjk x y/n

[justauthoring]

his light.

because a light always fades eventually.

a/n -> i love angstttttttt

pairing -> choso x f!reader

tw.-> implied sex, implied death

it was a love that didn't come easy.

a love that burned and ached and left you trembling and scared and thinking of a life where it was all just a little bit easier. but you refused to give up.

the idea of giving up was more painful than anything else.

he didn't understand love. not completely and not always. he knew how he felt for you, came to understand the feeling of his welling at the sight of you. he knew of the reason why you never left his thoughts or when he'd close his eyes, you were always the first thing that he'd see.

smiling, eyes twinkling, shining and as beautiful as the first time he saw you.

and he remembers the moment his eyes landed on you for the first time perfectly.

you'd come barelling towards yuji, worried and scared as you checked over him, asking him if he was okay. you'd begged him to explain everything, eyes glancing around for gojo and nanami, along with your other students and your eyes filling with tears when yuji shakingly told you that they didn't make it.

you hadn't even noticed him yet. your eyes had welled at the news that gojo was trapped and apparently it had been a man named geto who had done it. choso hadn't known then why that had torn you up so deeply inside.

and you'd apologized when you heard about nobara and nanami.

apparently, you'd been sent on another mission instead of to shibuya; somewhere overseas and had returned at the tail end of everything.

choso had watched you, watched as you cried and fussed over your student. watched as you were told about the friends you'd lost and the students you'd failed to protect. his heart had ached in a way he'd never experienced before, unsure of the emotions coarsing through him.

yuji had shakily introduced him after you'd calmed and that was a mess of things in of itself, but what surprised and confused choso the most was the way you'd smiled at him (albeit shakily and not completely meeting your eyes) and had thanked him for protecting yuji.

you hadn't doubted him once, trusting yuji's words with ease and had accepted him without hesitation.

choso hadn't understood then, but the emotions burning through him had been of love.

and that was just the beginning.

tentative looks, hesitant touches, words spoken in secret. there had been shared moments any second either of you could have them, hidden away from eyes and from the danger of what you were both stuck in. choso relished in the moments, greatly enjoying your company and being given the privilege and chance to learn what it was like to be human.

and you? you'd basked in the warmth he flooded you with, after all of it had been ripped from you cruelly. he was safe and kind and sure, you knew he was a curse, but that hadn't mattered to you the moment yuji told him that, somehow, someway, choso had decided to help him.

that he was good.

and he was a good that you'd never experienced before. he lit your whole world up in a way that the past seemed so dull in comparison. filled your darkness with rays of light and the emptiness in your heart; he patched the broken pieces of you up piece by piece in a way you're sure he wasn't even capable of understanding.

yet, all of it hurt.

ached.

burned.

because you knew it wouldn't last. it... couldn't last.

the two of you were doomed from the beginning.

you just hadn't known it'd be so quick.

-

"you're doing it wrong."

stilling his movements, choso chances a glance behind him, meeting your eyes and the soft smile on your lips.

"oh?" he asks, confused and curious as his eyes flicker back to the bowl in his hands. he thought he'd been doing it right... but if you said he wasn't, then...

"here," you call, stepping forward from the door and over to choso. you send him a soft smile when you reach him, his eyes trained on yours, captivated by you as you gently take the whisk from his hands. "i'll mix, you hold the boy, okay?"

nodding, choso tightens his grip on the bowl just as your hand starts to move. you start small, testing his hold before your movements become strong, swiping your hand around in circles. choso watches as the batter is mixed together with ease.

"this way it cooks properly," you explain, head tilting back to send him a soft smile. "it'll taste better."

lips forming a 'o', choso nods. "i've never made a cake before," he says after a moment, voice faint. "i don't think i've ever had cake before."

"can curses enjoy sweets?" you ask, and choso feels no insult by it given that he can tell you're genuinely curious. you were always asking him questions about how it worked to be a curse, trying to understand him better since, before him, you'd never tried to get along with a curse.

you'd just kill them. or trap them if you couldn't.

"i'm sure it's not the same as it is for you," he admits with a solemn expression. "but i can taste how sweet it is."

you beam at that, eyes sparkling in delight. "oh perfect," you gush, clapping your hands together in excitement. "i would've felt bad if you wouldn't be able to enjoy it properly."

choso pauses; "why?"

having turned your focus back to the batter, you pause; "hmm?"

"why would that bother you?"

you seem confused at his question at first, before your face seems to ease and relax with a knowing expression. letting the whisk balance at the edge of the bowl, you turn to face choso completely, taking his hands in your own and squeezing. "because i care about you. and cakes are delicious."

"oh," choso mumbles.

he's not sure if he completely understands your meaning but he knows it's heartfelt and sincere and that's enough for him. he may not understand everything or function the way a human would with you, but it doesn't seem to bother you and choso relishes in that fact.

"then i thank you," he finishes.

you just laugh, bumping your hip with his. "no need."

-

he's aware he's staring. and that he has been for five minutes.

and he's aware it's starting to freak you out a little.

but... there's something he wants, he just doesn't know how to express that want.

"choso?" you call, face filled with concern as you turn to face him fully. you'd been debriefing the plan for tomorrow regarding the culling game when choso had suddenly zoned out, a distant look in his eyes and you'd known he'd stopped listening then. "is everything okay?"

"i..." but he hesitates. he doesn't even know the words he's looking for.

"yes?" you prompt, making sure to keep your voice light; you don't want to pressure him. "you can tell me, choso. anything."

his eyes blink at your own, before you notice the subtle shift down, right at your lips. and by the longing in his gaze, it isn't hard to figure out what he wants then.

"do you want to kiss me?"

choso blinks out of his stupor, flinching back. "what?"

"kiss," you emphasize, leaning towards him until your inches apart. "press your lips," and you tap them for explanation, "against mine?"

yes, choso realizes. that is what he wants.

lips parting, choso swallows thickly. "is that what someone does to someone they care about?"

"depends," you shrug. "you wouldn't do it to a friend or a sibling... but a boyfriend would."

"boyfriend?"

"means to be together intimately with someone," you clasp your hands together, demonstrating your meaning. "to date someone... you'd kiss and... other things."

"i want to kiss you."

a smile graces your features at that, soft and demure as your shoulders easy and a pretty pink dusts across your smooth cheeks. choso is entranced by the sight, unable to pull away; at least, he is, until he feels your warm, soft lips against his.

he stiffens at first, unuse to the touch. but then he finds he rather enjoys the sensation and even more, he enjoys having you so close. his body relaxes on it's own and his hands twitch, hesitating for a moment, before reaching for your hips to pull you closer.

you end up in his lap, pulling away with a laugh as choso chases your lips.

you laugh louder at the pout on his lips.

"we should really focus on what's going on," you mumble, blinking lazily, intoxicated by the way he's staring at you. "yuji-kun and megumi-kun are relying on us..."

"i wanna kiss more," choso whispers, trying to pull you close again.

you try to push away, giggling, but then your eyes meet his and he sends you this look that has you reeling and all your determination fades.

"okay," you concede, just as love drunk as he is. "one more."

it's not just one more.

-

"don't stare."

your face is red, cheeks burning as your hands hold yourself, trying to cover yourself from choso's unwavering stare. he liked to stare a lot, and usually you didn't mind, but it felt entirely different when you were so... exposed.

nothing but your arms to cover your breasts, with choso hovering over you, his hair hanging loose like a halo around you. all you could focus on was him, shrouded from anything else because of his figure, and he seemed just, if not more, solely focused on you.

"i've never..." but his words fade and he swallows thickly, and this lidded, lust-filled expression floods his eyes that has you squirming. "you're beautiful."

the warmth intensifies and you turn your head, desperate to get away from his heated stare.

choso is quick to rectify it, his hand reaching out to clasp your jaw and pull your attention back on him. your jaw slacks as he does, not used to choso to... hands on and demanding. it was usually you instigating things, with his permission and at his pace of course—but nonetheless, you.

this... was different.

not bad, just... overwhelming.

"don't hide," he whispers, voice husky. "i want to see you," he confesses, "all of you."

"it's embarrassing," you mumble, biting your lip. "no one... no one's ever seen me like this."

that gives choso pause. stilling over you, his eyes widen as he pulls back slightly. "no one?" he asks, clarifying. "not even someone like gojo?"

you recoil at that. "gods no," you rush to deny. "gojo is... is a dear friend, of course. but—but not like that. never like that."

oddly, choso seems eased at that and it catches your attention because you never thought... never thought choso was capable of feeling such an emotion like jealousy.

"good."

he leans forward a second later, face close and imposing and it fills your stomach with butterflies.

"i'm going to make you feel good," he promises and you feel yourself grow wet at his husked whispers, legs brushing against each other. "so you'll never forget me."

-

your body is dead, heavy weight in his arms.

there's a mix of emotions that flood him and none of them make complete sense; but the worst part is he doesn't have you to explain them to him. you were his guide, his light and you'd taught him what it was like to feel human.

not because you didn't love him for who he was, but because he wanted to know. you taught him love and happiness and compassion and passion and...

and now, all he feels is this indescribable and unavoidable deep burn of pain deep in his heart that aches and pulls and twists.

bloodied, bruised, your chest remained still, no heart beat and no breath.

you were just... gone.

he'd known he was a curse and you were a human; the both of you had known that he would outlive you... that was just a matter of fact and no matter how much he'd wished it so, it would never change.

but this? this was too early.

this was too painful.

and there wasn't anything he could do about it.

he cries for the first time then; something he hadn't even known possible for him. that burn in his chest alights a fire in him and his eyes are welling out of his control, blurring his vision of your limp body pressed against him and streaming down his cheeks in a feeling he's never felt before.

but it's the only thing he knows to do then.

so it's the only thing he does

#jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #choso kamo #choso #choso x reader #choso angst #choso fluff

[hauntedwitch04]

Neighbor

Steve Harrington x reader

Words: about 0.8k words

Warnings: smut, possessive!Steve, swearing, kinda voyeurism, not proofreaded

Author’s note: Hi loves! New day new kink, hope you like it, your witch Becky

Requests are open I Ask

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KINKTOBER ...........-..........KINKTOBER TAGLIST 2023

DAY 13: Caught masturbation

-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-

Steve Harrington and you have been neighbors since you were born. When you were younger you spent hours and hours playing in the backyard, and when your parents forced you into the house, you kept playing in your rooms, since your windows were in front of each other. You used to spend hours looking out, imagining adventures and exploits of the older heroes, playing at being big, not knowing that after all, you grow up too fast.

You and Steve remained very good friends until high school, when he decided that you were not popular enough to be seen with him and that he needed to find new, "cooler" friends to really be somebody. This of course had made you feel very bad, but fortunately you had met other people, better than King Steve, who had become your friends, like Robyn, a skinny blond girl who played in the school band and was a real genius as well as being a very good friend. You and Steve didn't even say hello to each other anymore when you walked past each other to go to your rooms Those windows that used to be portals into each other's world were now nothing more than what they really are: cold pieces of glass, allowing each other to peek into the other person's life hoping it would be worse than their own.

Everything had remained that way until this evening.

Steve recently returned from yet another party; he doesn't even know how he managed to get home to tell the truth, since he doesn't even remember getting into the car.

The boy is lying on the bed, still looking at the ceiling and wondering how many drinks he has had, when he realizes that your bedroom window is open, which is not so strange since it is the middle of summer and the muggy heat is unbearable at night, but usually the curtain was always drawn so that no one could see your little piece of heaven.

Steve, confused by alcohol does not realize what he is doing, and so in the dark, he sits on the bed and starts looking at you, trying to figure out what you were doing.

Your room has not changed that much since you were children, but some posters and books now adorn those walls that little you had so insisted on, being your favorite color. The desk is covered with open school books and notes, while on the floor was a pile of clothes, probably dirty, among which Steve could make out some clothing you had worn in the past few days.

The boy's eyes roam all over the room, trying to absorb the details of your life, looking and hoping to recognize deep down the little girl he was in love with as a child. All until he sees you.

You're lying in bed, in semi-darkness, but somehow Steve can see you, wearing a simple tank top and a pair of summer shorts, hoping to fight the heat; but it's not how you're dressed that shocks the boy, but what you're doing.

Your eyes are closed, while your head is resting on the pillow. Your right hand squeezes your right breast, since you are not wearing a bra, from above your shirt, while your left hand is in your shorts. Your mouth is ajar as you let muted moans slip from your lips as you chase your pleasure.

Steve freezes for a second looking at you knowing it is wrong what he is doing, yet he cannot shake his eyes off you. He feels his erection growing in his pants, to the point that it hurts so much that he can no longer avoid touching himself, first from above the fabric, then in desperation, he unzips the zipper of the jeans he is wearing and pulls out his member, beginning to lightly massage it. All this without ever taking his eyes off you, as if you were a magnet.

She watches as your fingers continue to circle your most sensitive spot, faster and faster and hungrier. Your breathing becomes labored and uneven, until a few minutes later you reach orgasm. Slowly your fingers stop moving, and you try to catch your breath. Your eyes are still closed and you can't see in the house in front of you, your neighbor masturbating at the sight of you climax.

Steve also comes to orgasm, a couple of minutes after you do, thus making time to hide well in the shadows, when you open your eyes, looking around as if you have the feeling you are being watched. He watches you settle down for a moment, before getting up to go to the bathroom, and at that moment Steve Harrington, the king of Hawkins High School, decides something.

The next orgasm you have will be at his hands.

TAGLIST

@digitalhearts @samanddeansannoyingsis @minkiles @ash04w3 @123345566 @the-house-of-rose-and-ember @nightfiress @theyluvtrinity21 @supernatural-lvr @starsval @imaraccoon @CaptainsBaby @titinkaaa @newtdumbledoorstarksoot @aunicornmademedoit @AlohaStitch0626

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #stranger things x reader #stranger things smut #kinktober 2023 #becky's writing

[johannestevans]

Suckle

Read on Ao3. Rated E, Marcille/Falin, nipple play and sleepy sex.

Marcille is stirring in bed, turning over and over, and Falin shifts, opening her eyes and looking over at her. She gets like this, sometimes – Falin wonders sometimes if it’s from them leaving the dungeon behind, because she feels affected by it herself at times. Magic just isn’t as thick outside of the dungeons – it’s not as thick anywhere as it used to be.

It keeps her awake sometimes, but she’s got her own methods of dealing with it, isn’t as badly affected as Marcille. She reaches out for her, tugs her closer – Marcille grunts in her sleep, but she softens when her head comes to rest against Falin’s breast. She mumbles something Falin can’t wholly make out – hungry, maybe? – and nuzzles closer.

Falin likes to sleep naked, doesn’t love to have extra fabric weighing her down if she can be cosy in bed with Marcille, even cosy in bed alone – it had made Marcille uncomfortable once, and Falin had gotten used to sleeping in a shirt at least, to ease her discomfort. She’s less uncomfortable now.

If anything, now, Marcille is enthusiastic.

Her mouth opens over Falin’s breast, and Falin lets out a breathless squeak of sound as she feels the tip of Marcille’s tongue touch hot and wet against the underside of her nipple, and then her lips lock around it. She sucks on Falin’s nipple concentratedly, devotedly, and Falin squirms underneath Marcille’s dead weight on top of her. She’s still asleep, her chin resting on the meat of Falin’s breast, one of her arms banded loosely around Falin’s waist, and she’s so warm.

Marcille suckles on her like she thinks in sleep that she’s actually going to taste milk, and it sends shocks of pleasure up Falin’s spine and rushing hot over her skin, makes her fist her hands in the sheets to keep from making any louder, sharper sounds that might wake her up. Her clit is throbbing with want and aching to be touched, and she can feel how wet she is, feel the heat gathering between her legs.

Marcille is sucking so hard that her cheeks actually hollow and it hurts, just the slightest bit, and that’s even better, somehow. Falin presses her knees together and breathes in as best she can through her clenched teeth, her fingers slipping up Marcille’s neck and touching the back of her hair, gripping a fistful of it, and Marcille’s eyes flutter open.

“Mngh,” she grunts. “Falin?”

Falin drags Marcille’s mouth to her other nipple, and Marcille lets out a surprised noise but obediently opens her mouth and suckles at her, looking up at Falin with her eyes wide, and Falin tugs Marcille’s hand between her legs, grinding up against the heel of her hand.

“Oh,” Marcille mumbles, her cheeks flushing as she looks at Falin with her eyes half-lidded with sleep. “I can suck on your…?” she starts to ask, indicating downward, and Falin shakes her head.

“No,” she says, “please…” and tugs Marcille’s mouth back to her breast instead.

Tip jar if it suits you.

#farcille #musings #marcille donato #falin touden #dungeon meshi

[ltcolonelcarter]

I’m not like other girls. I browse the anti tag for l stuff I love bc I’m fucking stupid

#oh look a bruise #but somehow it hurts when I touch it????? #unfathomable #misc shitposting

[hisgoodgirl666]

ooooomfg do i have fractured rib cartilage from doing kinky shit??…. (and why is my first reaction to be turned on?? lmao)

#that’d be what you call a whoopsie #this happened when I was reaching & twisting for something after having taken punches in that spot the last few days #including this morning #best case scenario is somehow a pulled muscle in my lower left rib cage #?? #or it could be a rib or my spleen #🙃 #I have a tendency to overreact so it’s probably fine but I just felt the weirdest crack/pop #and there is no mobile joint there lol #it fuckin hurt and it shocked me so hard i was just sitting there for a min recovering and wondering wtf just happened #still hurts bad too when I touch it or breathe deep #also got a headache now #if it really is fractured cartilage tho I think I’d faint from subbyness #injuries on the more serious side are not the goal but if it accidentally happens then i'm not going to not be turned on by it lol #personal

[witherbythesword]

I feel like a fucking feral animal that needs to be pinned down by the throat and stabbed.. i mean fucked argh no what i wanted to say.. is i need to be fucking sta

#nsfwtext #loosing my marbles #thinking about fucking provoking them #acting out #scratching them #to make them violate me and fuck me to pieces because i need it so so much #but they just think it's cute #poking fun at me for being so desperate for them #being pinned by the throat i slowly start getting weaker and they praise me for being good and relaxing #fucking me oh so slowly and it's NOT ENOUGH #but it's all I am going to get #struggling #trying to fuck myself back into them #but it just makes them press harder #until I am all still #like a little doll #teary eyed from my endless need and how feeling them rut into me so gently doesn't give me any relief.. it just makes it worse #feeling like going crazy and breaking down while they push a finger into my mouth to suck on #slapping me and then going back to chockeing me. #feeling my arousal built more and more #wanting them so much it doesn't matter if it's pleasure or pain begging to be kicked or fucked harder or cut or punched or skull fucked #just anything to truely feel them #argh #i am about to start biting people i need this #thinking about the times someone made me hurt so bad during a scene i felt like I need to throw up #like me brain was all pain and somehow it still got worse with each hit #that pain is so bad i feel like blacking out #saying yellow and #how just one touch was enough to flip the switch and what was pain just a second before was now arousal uggh am so needy for pain rn #when you are so full of pain in a scene it's like your consciousness morphs and all there is is you and pain and your partner

[daz4i]

so if bungou abilities are based on a person's trauma. besties what would your ability be. rb and tell me in the tags (no need to elaborate on the actual trauma)

#I'm thinking of a few options for me. it's interesting :^) #going by earlier stuff. mind would be creating clones of myself probably! #or. and i know it exists already. possibly freezing time for everyone but myself #if the abilities kinda change according to newer trauma ig the clones thing works better #bc then i can adjust it by like. sharing injuries with the clones. but healing/regenerating whenever i summon them back #it's not perfect yet but i like the brainstorming :P #another option is maybe like. people getting hurt somehow when they touch me hm #tho that'd be depressing. i don't want this. but ig abilities aren't always what we want

[weathernerdmando]

Me: despite knowing that I will be in a lot of pain later if I don't do it for the five hours shift, I don't put my knee braces on.

Me five hours later with my entire lower body in enough pain to make me want to not walk around at all:

#heds #probably #hypermobility spectrum disorder #hypermobility #pots possibly #apparently i was around an 8ish on the pain scale when i asked my fiancee to see where #“pushing through it but having to sacrifice some things getting done tonight because i wont do a lot of it otherwise bc of the pain and #being tired“ was on the pain scale. apparently the way i said it described around an 8. i thought i was naybe at a 4/5? lmao #i apparently had gotten to the oint of out of it/derealizing/disassociating/something when i got to my car #took a half hour to just drive the mostly empty interstate and blast music at full volume #and then called my fiancee when i felt real/like a person/aware again #basically when i could turn the music down bc it began to be irritating and overloading instead of comforting. #usually that measn im more regulated. somehow. lol. #chronic pain #if i dont wear knee braces tommorow this only gets WORSE lmaok #also i think i might be developing allodynia or whatever its spelled when touch causes pain? #specifically on my legs. no knee braces means any contact on legs hurts. including clothes 😭

[paranoidgemsbok]

lads wear your seatbelts btw. do it for me 

#seatbelt my beloved #sorry for all the accidentposting ive never been in one before and i still feel very nervous and shaken #like it was a t-bone that pushed me into another stationary vehicle #it was a lot and it couldve been so fucking bad #and that scares me so much #harrowing experience 0/10 would not recommend #im still like. well i cant go to sleep what if i somehow have secret internal bleeding that still isnt making itself known #nothing is hurting except touching the bruises but what if #when am i safe from secret internal bleeding the EMT vital checks didnt pick up on is it more than six hours is it days