Possessive Luke With Aphrodite!reader

possessive luke with aphrodite!reader <3 he'd have her knees up to her chest, mumbling about "mine, mine, mine."

explicit sexual content; slight breeding kink; MDNI

it's almost like he's trying to convince himself with the way he's saying it. a deep growl in the crook of your neck, all bared teeth and snipped syllables, the harshness of his words matching the intensity of his hips knocking against yours.

you're sure it's the loudest he's been, both verbally and sexually. praising how perfect your cunt is, declaring that no one could fuck you like he does even if they prayed to the gods for assistance, his words ringing out over the clap of your skin meeting. he has a grip on your hips, fingers pressing into your skin with so much determination that you have to seriously consider the possibility of new bruises.

eventually, he decides the position isn't enough. he throws your legs over his shoulders, hinging at the hips to reach deeper. your moan is guttural with the first thrust, eyes rolling back until your head starts to ache.

luke, clearly proud of himself, makes a point to draw attention to the pleasure you feel, quickly reminding you that he is the one making you feel like this.

it's as if he's driving himself to insanity, spewing out broken phrases that follow no rhyme nor reason. through them all, with concentration you shouldn't be using in this moment, you pick up only half of his words.

something along the lines of, "need to make sure everyone knows you're mine," following the logic of, "i'll put a ... put a baby in here. make you my pretty girl for life."

⌗︙・breeding kink with connie ⸜⸜・

connie is a sex obssesed freak, that's why you become concerned when he fucks you gentle.

"fuck con," you moan, your back arching from the bed, "this is new."

your boyfriend is rough and he likes to see you cry and bounce on his cock. even when he swears he's being gentle, you end up with filled puppy and unable to speak from the screaming.

that's why it's so weird when he sinks into your pussy today. he's slow with his thrusts and he takes his time to explore every inch of your pussy. he has you moaning in seconds, but this time because of the passion.

"don't think I haven't noticed." he says, locking his hands in yours. he drags his cock up your walls and you choke on your moans. you're confused, he wouldn't be possibly talking about....?

"you're off birth control." he says seriously. how could he notice? few weeks ago, you were finally sure that you want to spend the rest of your life with connie, that's why you decided to get off birth control and start trying for a baby. you haven't told connie yet, but you knew he would be happy.

"maybe if im sweet, i will get you pregnant faster." you moan at his words, feeling extremely close to your orgasm.

"im gonna breed this pussy until i have 4 mini me's running around." you cum in that moment. connie and you both had raging breeding kink, but it's different now.

"that's all it took you to cum?" he laughs at you, "come on, im gonna give it to you."

spurts of his cum fill you pussy and paint your insides. your back arches at the thought of being so full. he pumps his cum deep into your womb, the motivation to get you pregnant, driving him forward.

"good girl. don't ever go on birth control again. i have so much more to give you."

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ B⍣CKSHOTS MAKE YOU FEEL RELIEVED!

★ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 ⎯ After the kids leave to a friend’s, it’s just you and your husband. You and a 6 foot 2 s⍣x addict who’s not afraid of f⍣cking another child into you.

★ 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 ⎯ toji x fem!reader, smut (mdni), breeding k⍣nk, stomach bulge, unprotected, implied breeding k⍣nk, implied size difference, bigd⍣ck!toji, established relationship, reader referred to as (baby, princess.)

“Toji—“

“C’mon, baby. Know you want it too.”

“I do but—“

“You do. So open your legs ‘n let me have my way with you.”

All you could do was nod and watch as the bigger, built man on top of you smirked—and, fuck you could just die right then and there from the way his eyes hungrily surveyed your body, practically undressing you of the skimpy set of pajamas you had on.

Toji licked his lips, tongue sliding over his scar as his large hands made way to your core. “Promise I’ll take good care of this pussy.”

A blink and he already had your bottoms off, whistling to himself as he instantly found a wet spot on your panties. You looked away and he chuckled, his thick fingers already moving the material aside and swiping up your folds.

“Dirty girl.”

You whimpered from the contact and instinctively tried to close your legs around his arm—to no avail, of course. To think Toji would let you deprive him of even a second of seeing the succulent sight of your cunt is laughable.

Watching as he frees himself from his sweats, your mouth waters. You’re proud to say your husband is well over average, and feeling it inside you is a whole other level

. Feeling Toji Fushiguro inside you is as if taking two average cocks at the same time. You throb at the thought, eyes already rolling back from the stimulation his fingers provided.

“Eyes up here,” your body obeys quicker than your brain, and you’re giving him those ‘innocent’, succubus eyes that you know he can’t resist. The same look that got you here in the first place.

“Hurry, want it so bad,” you whined, pulling him down to your lips with your arms around his neck, grinding against the tip pathetically. “Please.”

And who was Toji to resist such temptation?—he could never say no to such a needy wife such as you.

So, with one swift snap of his hips, he was fully immersed in your wet heat, sucking his teeth as he felt your walls clamp down on him so tightly. Toji’s hands gripped on your hips harshly, steadying both you and him for the onslaught of thrusts to come.

You looked up to his eyes, tears already falling from yours, strings of moans pouring from your open lips. Toji has never loved a sight—a sound so much.

Your moans spurred him on more than anything, causing that rapid smack! of skin to skin contact he loves oh, so much. So much it has his head spinning and his body trembling in euphoria.

He looked down, sweat dripping from his forehead and a thin sheen on his body, groaning as he saw himself moving inside of you. “Look at that,” he hummed, approval and pride laced within his voice, pressing a hand to your lower stomach where the bulge formed. “Feel that, princess? That’s me.”

From that point on, Toji was set on making you feel every part of him. His pace quickened and his words were dirtier, his touches lit fires of temptation on your skin in their wake, and his overwhelming presence alone had you ready to cum at any moment.

“Y’know, I been thinking..” his voice was deep, intriguing. “It’s about time I put a baby in ya.”

this isn't proofread at allllllll i rlly couldn't be fucked i'm sorry. (babydaddy)plug!connie (with abt a paragraph of eren🙈),smut,dirty talk,connie has a breeding kink,unprotected sex,creampie.. that's it?

𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭 — 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢 (𝐮𝐧𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐝)

you were being practically folded in half atop the crisp,white sheets of an uncomfortably sanitised hotel room as your phone rang.

a loud groan was let out from the man above you,but he allowed you a slither of space to pick up the facetime as you argued - "what if something's happened?"

you had entrusted your son with his daddy for the long weekend as your new,although not inherently a stranger,boyfriend pampered you with a trip from philly to new york.

he had coerced you into a sex-filled getaway with the notion that,as a 'single mother',you deserved some time off and that your son would adore some quality time with his dad.

you agreed on the promise that your baby would be out of all that 'gang shit',to which connie swore on his life he would keep.

that now left you and your son in different states and a slightly uneasy feeling in your stomach for the majority of the day. however,as if connie telepathically knew when his presence would be most annoying,he decided to call you just as things were progressing with you and your new beau.

you picked up the facetime,watching connie's face light up the screen with a shit eating grin. "hey,mami."

he had the dark hood of his custom all-black clothing pulled over his head,the slight peak of a ski mask able to be seen framing his face,highlighting the small cross decorating his cheekbone,as well as your name in cursive bending just above his eyebrow.

immediately conscious of the lack of the noise on his end of the line,you asked,"where's my son at,connie?"

"relax,ma,he sleepin' right next to me." he shuffled the camera to display your baby's sleeping figure,lips pursed and long lashes touching the fat of his cheeks as he slept. so serious,just like his daddy.

the phone was then brought back to connie,his jawline sharp as he pushed his tongue into his cheek,reaching over to adjust your son's blankets with the end of a pacifier hanging out of his mouth,phone resting against his chest.

after sorting your son,he looked back toward you,readjusting in his seat against the cream-coloured couch to take in the sight of you.

your hair was strewn out all over the pillows,your dark lip liner smeared down your chin and a content expression on your face having seen your child. although he had the joys of being blissfully unaware,seeing connie beside your own state through the facetime had you slightly reconsidering. you looked nothing like how you usually did after a fuck with connie,your makeup and lashes usually cried off with smears of drool down your chin simply from the delicious feeling of him pounding you. you shook off the thought almost as quickly as it came,not allowing yourself to indulge in it until you were at least back home.

"you been feedin' my baby?" the way you said it held a warning to it,but it never really worked with connie.

"you think 'ion know how to look after my son? he been eatin' good,ma,none of that formula shit."

you hesitated to praise him,not wanting to irritate your boyfriend further with any ex-to-ex pet names.

there was a few moments of content silence,but it was short-lived as it always is with connie,"so you not out with all your lil' girlfriends tonight?"

you had almost forgotten you had told him it was a 'girls vaca' to blow off some steam,mikasa and sasha covering for you while cosied up in their own homes.

eren scoffed beside you,dropping his head to laugh into his chest. you slapped his arm,demanding him to be quiet with your eyes alone,hoping to god connie hadn't heard the deep grumble of a painfully obviously male laugh.

"yo,you got someone else in there wit' you?"

the immediate reaction probably should've been to deny,deny,deny,but instead your instinct was to clap back at him just as hard.

"'n what if i did? we not dating,connie,you just the dick that impregnated me."

"no puedo creer," he mutters with a hand to his forehead,"who the fuck is it?"

"why do you care?" you knew you were being defensive,but who was he to stop you seeing other people?

"estupida,you on some fuckin' bae-cation with this mámon?"

"leave him alone,connie!"

"oh,so he there 'n he not gon' speak?coño."

you began to formulate an argument to fire back at him,as well as eren opening his mouth to speak,but the 3 of you were cut off by the shrieking sounds of a baby crying as your shouting had awoken your son.

connie was quick to place his phone down,carefully taking your son into his arms. he then leaned down to pick you up,bouncing your son on his hip as he pointed toward the camera,"look,you want your mami? say hi to mami,chico."

your son almost immediately settled,nuzzling into his daddy as connie pressed his lips to the swell of your son's cheek,giving a few kisses before moving to place one against his forehead.

you stopped your cooing at the screen to snap at connie once your son with settled. "look at you,now you done woke him up!"

he didn't reply,just continued to rock your son,now hyper aware of the fact that there was some guy balls deep in his baby mom listening in on your conversation.

"so you not gon' answer me now?"

"watchu want me to say?"

you were almost speechless. it wasn't like connie to ever avoid an argument like this,usually by this point having severely lost his shit. did he not care anymore?

you huffed,shifting around in the bed uncomfortably,pursing your lips,"'kay,i'll call you tomorrow morning before my drive."

your bags made an awful screech across the hard wood floors of connie's home,one the two of you previously shared. it had been up to you to design the interior,and not a day went by that you didn't severely regret your choice of flooring.

you quickly rid yourself of your scarf and jacket,hanging them neatly beside an array of both yours and connie's coats. even after moving all your important shit out,there was still bits and pieces of you filling connie's home,one that he still considered to be just as much yours as it was his. you were left in the knitted two piece you travelled in,paired with the chestnut uggs connie had gotten you last year,a fact about most of your outfits eren wasn't privy to. the beige tracksuit was one connie had always appreciated you in,which maybe contributed to your decision on the outfit this morning,although you'd never admit to it. it really did look good on you,but whether you mostly believed that because of his words and inability to keep his wandering hands off you you weren't exactly sure.

you practically skipped into the sitting room,having missed your two favourite boys for 3 days. the cheesy grin you were wearing grew ten fold when you were greeted with the sight of your son cuddled up on the couch in your baby daddy's arms,both almost completely immersed in connie's phone.

his eyes flickered up to meet yours for just a second,before breaking the contact and staring back at the screen. you couldn't help but frown slightly,almost dragging your feet over to him as you bend down to pick up your son,his eyes growing when he recognised your face. connie almost felt smug when he noticed your long nails curling around your son's chubby torso,ones he had paid for with his initial tattooed into your ring finger.

"you gon' stay silent the whole time,connie?"

his gaze snapped up to your face,feeling almost caught out by the cat-like grin spread across your face as you cuddled into your son.

"nah,jus' thinkin'." he shrugged.

"about?"

"-how good you gon' look wit' another one of my babies in you."

he leaned back with one arm spread across the headrest of the couch,a shit eating grin plastered across his face as he eyed you watching him,jaw dropped and spluttering for words.

"that's! no,connie.. i told you,that's not gon' happen again."

"what's not gon' happen? you lettin' me fuck you or gettin' you pregnant?" his grin only grew,head cocked at you with narrowed eyes,taking deep pleasure in catching every bit of your reaction.

"enough,connie!"

"gon' put another baby in you,yeah?"

you shook your head desperately,hot tears wetting your fresh lashes and cascading down your red cheeks. "no,,no—" he clamped a hand down over your mouth to stop your wailing,shushing you as he leaned down to press his lips to the back of his knuckles. the fog clouding your brain and the bruising snap of his hips had you convinced you could feel his plump lips brushing against your own as he spoke.

"shh,ma,you gon' wake him up."

your heavy-lidded eyes drifted to the sleeping figure of your son,wrapped up next to the two of you in the portable bassinet you insisted connie bought to transport your son between houses when the two of you split for the third - or fourth - time. shallow breaths were leaving his full,parted lips. you couldn't help but feel shame bubble inside you at the feeling of your wetness spread embarrassingly over connie's thighs while he drilled you.

you opted to close your eyes,leaning your head back with connie's hand muffling your cries. the bastard laughed at you,leaning back to readjust the angle at which he ploughed you,now using the hand against your jaw as leverage to his thrusts.

"you wan' a lil' girl this time,ma?"

you whined in response,pushing against his hips in a feeble attempt to get him to let up on your abused pussy.

"she gon' look jus' like you.. dios mio.. all pretty n' shit.."

he started to pant,pushing his thumb against your lips. you opened your mouth to him,too fucked out to deny him any longer. he pushed the digit flat against your tongue,allowing your lips to close around him while he tipped his head back,letting a loud groan out into the room.

you hummed around his thumb,pulling him toward you with a tight hand around the bone of his hip,tits almost smacking you in the face with the force of their bouncing as he sped up.

he brought his unoccupied hand from your waist to rub at your overstimulated clit,pouting his lips at the pure horror that wash over your face,"one more so i can fill you up n' i'm done,baby."

you felt your next climax crash through you almost immediately after he came in contact with your sore nub,too overstimulated to hold out against his teasing. he spilled inside you soon after,fucking his cum into you as he kissed at the fat of your cheek,doting on you after such aggressive sex.

his eyes moved to the side of his head to quietly check on your son,still soundly sleeping,while you fought against passing out and staying the night.

though,you eventually woke up to connie's aggravating snoring right in your ear and a heavy,tattooed arm slung over your waist.

soraphic 2k23 — please do not copy, repost or translate any of my works on other platforms: i do not tolerate them at all.

friendly attachment, luke castellan.

cw: pure smut, fwb (friends w benefits), nerd!luke, roommate!luke, praise, alluding to religion, oral, fingering, breeding kink, attachment.

the way they’d sit crooked on his nose, his glasses were sleek, black specs that he had always left in your room. his forehead was slick with sweat as he pushed his cock deeper into your cunt. “luke,” your eyes were teary, sure to be puffy by morning, “you’re so good… so perfect.” and he’d just dumbly nod right along with you.

as much as he tried not to, he got attached.

you’d be on his bed, knees to your chest as your pretty holes were exposed to him. he’d kneel in front of the foot of the bed, hands all clammy before he planted a thumb on your clit. he’d circle it slowly, pressing down as he spoke under his breath, “beautiful. all mine.” maybe he was possessive. “don’t tease me, lukey, makin’ me wait…” you whined.

he’d nod and lean closer, inhaling the scent of your sweet nectar. you were god to him essentially, he’d worship your body, being in an indefinite spell under you.

luke would kiss your inner thighs before moving closer. it’s sweet. sugary sweet. he’d take the soft flesh of your cunt into his mouth, lapping gently before progressing into something animal-like. he’d hold your tummy in place as he savored every sweet juice that drips onto his tongue. he’d groan softly as he tastes your nectar, feeling the wetness of your cunt on his tongue. “more?” and you’d nod.

he slips two fingers in, curling them to rub against that perfect spot. that warm, tingly, delicious feeling in your clit–everywhere–threatened release. his fingers were deep, bruised knuckles only visible. you tried so hard not to cum on your friend.

you’d cry and moan pathetically as you came all over him, cunt pulsing as those salty tears began to stain your cheeks.

after, he’d just stand, pulling his fat cock out of his cock, pre-cum dripped onto sheets of his bed. he would tap his puffy tip on your clit, making you jerk your body. his hands were planted on your waist firmly as he pushed into you, cunt sucking him in perfectly.

you moaned loudly, the sounds reverberating around the room, other students being sure to hear. you cried so much, too, legs trembling out of control as he slammed into you.

your cunt drooled all over the bed, sticky juices at the base of his cock made him dig deeper. “too much, is it too much for you?” you were intoxicating—he couldn’t pull out of you.

“jus’ give me a baby, luke. let’s have a fucking baby.” as he moaned pathetically while your cunt milked him.

how pretty you’d looked, lips puffy, eyes watering, mascara running, eyes half-lidded; in all of your glory.

he couldn’t let go. no, this was real. you came messily under him, becoming overstimulated as he stuffed you even more, begging for him to move slower. he didn’t stop.

this was real.

he hunched over, holding you in his arms—giving you what you so desperately wanted.

your noses touched, and you looked the others eyes. he thrusts even harder his cock hitting all the best spots inside as he chased release. feeling you clench around his cock, luke holds you tighter, filling you with his hot cum as he groaned loudly.

he didn’t let go, no, he continued to hold you. his cock softened before releasing a few more spurts of his cum. you took it all. “my… my god.” he groaned.

and god you were.

Pov: You knew slashers, when you was a child (Slashers x fem!reader)

I'm back! Well, it os a lazy post from my drafts, until I end my new idea <3

TW: no

Characters: Thomas Hewitt, Brahms Heelshire, brothers Sinclair

P.S.: English is not my native language, so lot of these words was translated by simple translator, sorry for misspells and e.t.c.

Enjoy this!

Thomas Hewitt

The transition to a new school has always been a great stress for a child, especially in the middle of the school year.

You and your parents often moved from city to city. Maybe it was their work, or maybe they just wanted to show you as many different places as possible so that your childhood would remain really memorable — you didn't know. But the constant moving was followed by a change of schools and kindergartens. On the one hand, you liked it — new acquaintances, interests and a lot of positive emotions, after all, you were a cheerful and active child — but it also brought its inconveniences — you didn't have "best" friends, you had no more than a couple of months to communicate with each of them, and multiple the change of the team has made you a real chameleon in society.

You were ten years old when you and your parents moved to Texas. The age when most classes have already been divided into peculiar interest groups, which are quite difficult for a new person to join. That's why your mom decided to bake cookies that you could distribute to new classmates. Who doesn't like homemade cakes? You actively participated in the cooking process. A little more practice, and you could learn these cookies on your own. As soon as the treat was ready — several pieces were successfully taken away by your father — your mother beautifully put it in a colored box, now tied with a ribbon. The inscription "Welcome" was painted on the lid in gold paint.

It was very hot in this area of Texas. Therefore, on your first day of school, you decided to limit yourself to a beautiful white T-shirt with some simple pattern and black shorts. The first impression is the most important, right? Your mom took you to school by car. At the reception desk, your mom introduced you and found out the number of the right office. After kissing you goodbye on the cheek, she left you to your own luck. Although you were already used to it, a nervous feeling of anticipation bubbled somewhere in your chest; your palms were sweating.

After a good seven minutes, you were standing in front of the right class, 212, clutching a box of cookies to your chest. Adjusting the strap of the gray backpack, you exhaled anyway.

Your homeroom teacher, Mrs. Sullivan, introduced you in the office. A lovely woman with curly locks hanging down on both sides of her face and freckled cheeks. Her soft figure, dressed in a white blouse and a black pencil skirt, caused a surge of strength and confidence in you. The woman lightly put her arm around your shoulders, so motherly, and asked you to tell about yourself.

"My name is Y/N Y/L," your voice trembled slightly while your gaze ran over the children sitting in the classroom, "I'm ten. I like animals and beading... Mm, my parents and I move around a lot, so I don't think I'll stay here for more than two months. I hope we'll become friends."

You ended your performance with a sincere warm smile. Mrs. Sullivan asked you to take an empty seat. Your choice fell on the farthest place by the window; a guy was sitting behind it, hunched over and staring at the street. Was he weird? No, rather unusual. He had long black hair, so unusual for a boy; his gaze was lowered somewhere on the dusty road near the school, so you couldn't see his eyes. Sitting down next to him, you quickly took out a notebook and pencil from your backpack.

"Hello?"

The boy seemed startled by your voice. He looked at you uncertainly, and you saw a face wrapped in bandages. Sad cornflower blue eyes peeked out from under the white cloth.

"I'm Y/N," you whisper, holding out your hand to the boy, "And what's your name?"

There was no response. Disappointed, you lowered your hand, now paying attention to the teacher's explanation. The woman was writing down her words on the blackboard, and you quickly began copying them into your notebook, clutching a pencil until it crackled.

There was something about this boy that attracted you. It doesn't matter if it was his shyness or isolation — you decided that you definitely want to make friends with him.

At recess, you approached a group of girls. They were dressed up like girls from fashion magazines that you often saw in kiosks by the road.

"Hi," — you said with a light smile.

"Well, hello," said one of the girls, popping a bubble of gum.

"I want to ask. M, that boy," you pointed to the long—haired boy, "What's his name? I asked, and he ignored me."

"Haha, he won't answer you. That's our little Tommy," another girl hissed sarcastically, giggling, "Thomas Hewitt is weird. Very strange. I heard that his father is his brother!"

"And he's also a terrible freak!"

You awkwardly put your hand in your hair. Thomas didn't look as disgusting as the girls described him. It's all rumors. And what to take from these children, they probably didn't even try to talk to Hewitt!

You didn't talk to this company anymore. After waiting for lunch, when all the children went out to the garden at the school, you again approached the boy. He didn't budge. It seems he hasn't even written anything since you sat down next to him.

"Hey, hello?" you waved your palm in front of the guy's face, "Thomas, right?"

This time the boy paid attention to you. There was no emotion visible under the thick layer of bandages, but you were sure that he arched an eyebrow questioningly. He's wondering how you know his name?

"You were sitting alone, so I came over. Your name is Thomas, right?" you repeated the question, finally the boy nodded, "That's wonderful! I'm Y/N, let's get acquainted."

Smiling happily, you hand the guy an open box of cookies. Golden crust with chocolate chips. You had no desire to share such a delicious thing with such terrible and tactless people. And Tommy. Tommy was different. He was timid and calm, unable to cause harm.

"Help yourself," you babble, sitting down next to Hewitt, "I made them myself! Not without my mommy's help, of course..."

You blush slightly and see Thomas's eyes narrow. He smiled! He seems to be starting to like your company.

"Can I call you Tommy?"

• Thomas has become noticeably happier since you met him. The boy began to spend more time outside the house, in your company (Luda was very surprised by this, because usually after school Tommy always came home and sat in his room).

• For your birthday, Thomas himself sewed a soft toy for you, a fox, as he found out later, this is one of your favorite animals. The toy was sewn from different, but matching pieces of fabric, a little sloppy, but quite skillfully. It made you smile. You threw your arms around Hewitt for joy.

• Once you praise him, Tommy immediately blushes a lot. It's good that it's not visible under the layer of bandages. From the moment you became friends, Thomas's self-esteem has risen a little.

• When you first offered to help Thomas change the bandages, he strongly refused. The boy just couldn't let you see his face. But when he finally gave up, Hewitt was pleasantly surprised that you didn't scream and run away. You didn't call Tommy a freak or a monster, but only sympathetically stroked his scarred cheeks.

• Over time, you began to understand Thomas without words, absolutely. You found the right answers in his movements, grunting, awkward head turning or excessive gesticulation. Even Luda was a little amazed at your nonverbal communication, but the woman was glad that her son finally found a real friend.

• Tommy often showed you his drawings. It was like the scribble of a five-year-old child, but you were always happy to accept the leaves and hang them over your bed. Basically, Thomas drew his family: angry Charlie in the corner of the paper, Monty sitting next to him in a chair, a little further away, Luda was cooking, and in the center of the drawing you and Thomas holding hands and smiling.

• It was the first time you begged your parents to stay in this city longer. Fortunately, they agreed after seeing your enthusiasm for the "strange boy".

Brahms Heelshire

• Your parents and the Healers kept in touch for a while, you can say your families were very close. You first met Brahms on his fifth birthday. He was a very well-mannered but private boy, so Mrs. Heelshire was only too happy to introduce you.

• At first, your communication did not work out. Brahms was a rude child in places, took away your toys and teased you.

• His true attitude towards you showed up when you didn't come to his house, although you were visiting the Heelshire family every Monday and Wednesday. He was seriously worried. All morning Brahms sat in his room by the window and looked at the road going through the forest, waiting for your little body in your favorite blue dress to appear from behind the trees. But you were never there. It turned out that you were just sick. That day Brahms went to your house and did not leave your bed, squeezing your hot palm.

• Your parents worked most of the time, so they were not against your games with Heelshire Jr. You stayed in their house more and more often, sometimes even overnight, and you and Brahms made noise all night, forcing his mother to swear. But still, the woman was glad that at least Brahms was behaving quite comfortably and boldly with someone.

• You were only a couple of months younger than Brahms, but you thought it was a good reason to tease you.

• The boy allowed you to enter his room without knocking, consider it a worthwhile privilege, because Heelshire does not let everyone into his personal space.

• When you were sad, Brahms brought you bouquets of flowers hastily made with his own hands. That's why his palms were green most of the time.

• Brahms makes wonderful sandwiches. He often makes them when the two of you are having a "picnic" in the garden. Although in fact he agrees to it only to admire you.

• Heelshire loves sweets very much. Very. His mom doesn't allow the boy a lot of sweets and cakes, so you secretly bring them to him from home. The boy is insanely happy.

• Brahms loves kissing. This habit, or rather the need, appeared in him because you praised the boy in this way. Has he finally cleaned the room? A kiss. Did he break his mom's precious vase during the catch-up today? A kiss! So now he can demand them for any reason. He especially likes it when you kiss him before going to bed, and Brahms falls asleep hugging you.

• You're his best friend. That's why Brahms trusts you with all his secrets. You are the only one to whom he has told about the strange and frightening thoughts that sometimes sound in his head.

"Good night," Mrs. Heelshire said, turning off the light and closing the door behind her.

You smile and blow her a kiss, covering your mouth with your palm. When the woman's footsteps recede, you exhale with relief, plopping down on the pillow with force. Squinting your eyes, you wrinkle your nose, trying to blow away the stuck strands of hair from your face. Brahms giggles and gently tucks your hair behind your ear.

The room is cool. The window is slightly ajar, letting in a light autumn wind. The curtains are swaying from side to side, taking chaotic frightening shadows.

You get under the covers up to your nose. Brahms follows your example, pressing his whole body against you, and you stroke his head.

"If I ever do something very, very bad, will you stay with me?" Heelshire whispers, looking up at you.

You look into his sad emerald eyes and laugh. He likes to put pressure on your pity, because he knows that at such moments you see him as a tiny abandoned kitten.

"I don't think you'd do anything so bad, Brahms."

"But if I do. What if everyone turns away from me. Even mom and dad. Will you stay with me?"

You pressed your lips together, frowning. Brahms had never asked such strange questions before. And how can a child who is only eight years old think about something like that after a while. Looking down at the ceiling, you turned your head, looking into Brahms' eyes.

"Yes. I'll stay."

"Honestly?" Heelshire asks incredulously.

"Honestly."

"Promise?"

"Yes, I promise you, silly boy!" you abruptly cover his face with a blanket, holding the edges on both sides of his head.

The boy was kicking, trying to get out from under your weight, while you tried not to laugh. Taking pity on his futile attempts, you took off the blankets, admiring Brahms' flushed face. Heelshire was breathing heavily, and his cheeks and nose were burning like Chinese lanterns that your parents launched on your birthday.

"I won. Again," you grin.

Brahms is silent. You sigh and lie down again, turning your back to Heelshire. Your eyes are shining with joy, and your lips continue to curve in a smug grin. You know that Brahms will not dare to do something to you in return. He always let you get away with such antics. Absolutely always.

When you are ready to fall asleep, through the chatter in your head you hear a plaintive whisper. Having opened your leaden eyelids, you groan with displeasure.

"Kiss me," Brahms whines, and you get up on your elbows, chuckling softly.

"Okay," you kiss Heelshire on the lips, "Good night, Brahms."

• "Now I've won," Brahms croaks, pressing you against the wall and spreading his hands on both sides of your head. Just like a child. Except now he's not the victim here, but you. Although was he ever a victim in your games? Rather, he always played the role of a presenter, you just didn't notice it, as if you were looking through your fingers. And who would have thought that that innocent little boy would ever stand in front of you, towering over your body by a good two heads, and grinning with eyes shining in anticipation through the black slits of the mask.

Sinclairs

Christmas is the most mysterious and magical holiday of the year; the day when the whole family gathers at one big table to properly celebrate this moment together; the day when you receive a lot of gifts from all kinds of relatives, which you sometimes did not realize; the day when all wishes come true.

You clumsily shuffled along the road, shaking your back every now and then to adjust the heavy backpack. Things inside rattled a lot, and you tried to straighten your back faster to avoid crumpled packages.

Christmas was your favorite holiday. And although your parents have been working constantly lately, you were glad that you could spend this family holiday with your friends.

You met not so long ago, only about four months ago, when you first moved here. Ambrose turned out to be a very nice and cozy city with friendly and caring people. Mrs. Sinclair, Trudy, and your mom became friends right away— their interests converged on art. That's when I met her sons, the woman suggested that you make friends with them because of their similar age. And it turned out to be a very good idea. The boys quickly became addicted to you.

Once again adjusting the canvas straps of the backpack, you quickly climb the steps requested by the snow and knock on the sand-colored door several times. On the other side, there is a fussy shuffling and dissatisfied grumbling.

"Hello," you say, smiling, when the door swings open in front of you, revealing a view of the timid Vincent.

The guy nods to you and opens the door wider, motioning you to enter. You kiss Sinclair on the cheek of the mask. Brushing off your feet at the threshold, you quickly take off your shoes and leave your backpack at the shoe shelf. Music from an old radio is coming from the kitchen, some station unknown to you is playing old songs from the seventies. As soon as you entered the room, Vincent stood at the stove again, frying something in a frying pan. Whenever Trudy was busy making figures and arranging a museum that she someday wanted to open, it was Vincent who did the cooking and other household duties. Bo was stubborn and didn't want to do "women's" work, and Lester was still too young for such a large-scale activity. The latter was now sitting at the table and skillfully sliced an apple with a hunting knife into neat pieces.

"Morning, Lester," passing by the boy, you leave a small kiss on his forehead.

"Hi, Y/N!" Sinclair winces contentedly, flapping his big copper eyes.

You sit down next to the boy and imperceptibly take a piece of apple from under his nose, throwing it into his mouth contentedly. There were already several plates and cutlery on the table. Vincent loved order, so he prepared everything in advance.

"Where's Bo?" you ask, rocking slightly in your chair, for which you get a menacing look from Vincent.

"Mom asked him to help at the museum," Lester replied, "He should be back soon."

You notice how Vincent turns off the stove and turns his whole body in your direction. The guy takes a notebook lying on the table and quickly scribbles something.

"Have you had breakfast?"

"Yes," you say shortly, when Vincent closes the notebook and puts it back, "Honestly."

Sinclair puts the hot omelette on plates and pushes you a bowl of oatmeal cookies. You happily take one piece. Vincent sits down across from Lester and lifts the mask just enough to see his mouth. You frown, noticing the edge of his deep scar.

"Hey everyone," it was heard from the threshold, when the front door slammed shut with force, "Oh, honey, and you're here," Bo walks past you, lightly touching your shoulder in greeting, and sits down next to Vincent.

During brunch, you watch Lester and Bo actively negotiate. When their plates are empty, you decide to step in.

"Since everyone is here," you babble happily, clapping your hands to attract the attention of the guys, "I want to give you gifts a little earlier than planned, do you mind?"

"Of course not," Bo abruptly pushed away from the table, "I'm all for it, babe."

Bo winked at you playfully, to which you rolled your eyes. Vincent signed something, and you looked at Lester. Your sign language was not yet good enough to understand most of the phrases, you barely remembered the words of politeness. That's why you've always relied on little Lester at times like this.

"He said: "Why are you doing this so early?"", Lester explained, innocently blinking his eyes.

"What's the difference," Bo frowned, "Sooner or later — the main thing is that she gave."

You didn't comment on the elder Sinclair's words, but just got up from the table and went to your backpack resting in the hallway. When you came back, the brothers were already sitting in a kind of semicircle on the floor. Bo sprawled impressively closer to the sofa and grinned in anticipation; Lester, in his usual manner, sat cross-legged; while Vincent tucked his knees to his chest.

You sat down between the twins and put the backpack next to you, unzipping it. You said "Close your eyes" and, as soon as the boys fulfilled your request, you began to take out colorful boxes. All packages had the same color, different sizes. Alternately, you put the gifts in front of them and allowed them to watch. Lester giggled when he saw that his box was the biggest.

"Merry Christmas," you drawled, spreading your arms out to the sides.

The very first gift was opened by Lester. The boy happily tore open the package, scattering the paper around him, and screamed when he saw the cherished surprise. A big stuffed fawn. He had a soft beige body and neat brown horns sticking out in different directions. The muzzle was cheerful, with a big nose and shiny button eyes.

"I knitted it especially for you," you babble, smiling, when Lester looks up at you with an enthusiastic look.

"Thank you!" the boy throws himself on your neck with lightning speed, squeezing your body until the bones crunch; you stroke his back.

Bo was a little surprised when he saw a set of tools under the wrapper. He loved tinkering and was well versed in mechanics; the fact that you remembered about this hobby touched the guy a little; his lips curved in a slight smile.

"Well, thanks, babe," Bo grins, patting your hair.

You're pouting a little. All the time spent in the morning combing this tangled nest has gone to waste. You are dissatisfied with blowing off a few strands that caught your eye.

The last person to open his gift was Vincent. The boy very tenderly unwrapped the package, not trying to tear it, as if stretching and savoring this moment. You watched the deft but careful movements of his fingers with burning impatience. Finally, Sinclair took off all the paper, removing it from the side, and looked down at what he saw. A large set with colored pencils. Exactly the one that the boy looked at with undisguised envy in the window of an art store about a month ago. Did you remember that? With slightly trembling hands, Vincent takes the box and turns it in his hands. There were several more drawing pads under it.

Vincent looks at you, and you see the trembling gaze of his azure eyes in the slits of the mask. Such unbelievers, but at the same time grateful. You crawl up to the boy and hug him tightly, nuzzling his neck. Vincent lets out a ragged sigh.

"Merry Christmas to you, boys," you congratulate them once again, seeing the boys' satisfied smiles.

"So why did you decide to give it to us so early?" Lester asked, clutching the toy to his chest.

"Oh, that," you awkwardly fix your hair, "Well, my parents decided to leave. To another state. We'll leave tonight. So I thought I could have some fun with you now."

There was an oppressive silence in the room. You were afraid to look up, but you could feel the disappointment on the boys' faces. Your heart was painfully squeezed in your chest, from which you gritted your teeth with a creak.

"Will you come back?" Bo broke the silence.

"I don't know. Dad was offered a job in another state. Mom just said I wouldn't be able to see you."

You looked at each of the boys in turn. Vincent's head drooped, Bo's brows furrowed, and Lester's lips tightened into a crooked thread. The elder Sinclair sighed heavily.

"We'll be waiting. All together," he looked at you from under his brows, "Just try not to come back to us."

• Vincent loves sweets; but, often, Bo takes most of the goodies. That's why you put an envelope with several edible bracelets in one of the donated notebooks. Bo will probably consider them girly and will not take them away from his brother.

• You have been knitting a fawn for Lester for about five days; the boy is very happy with your gift. Your relationship is like a brother and a scary sister. He is always ready to rely on you; Sinclair is glad that he has such a caring person, unlike the same brothers (in particular Bo).

• Trudy adores you. You could say that in these few months she began to perceive you as her own daughter. You even know where the spare keys to the back door of the house are.

• Bo always tries to impress you as a self-sufficient high school student. He saw his father's old magazines with tackles, seduction and other materials not for children, so he decided to train on you. He didn't notice how he fell in love.

• Vincent is a good cook.

• Most of Vinnie's drawings in the new notebooks are you. He will paint your portraits for many years after your leaving.