#(different wardrobe fail)

[watchyourbuck]

half of my skirt came undone in the middle of my uni campus and a friend just texted me: “campus sighting: bubble but.” A WIN IS A WIN

[luveline]

how about spencer x badass reader and they are wearing couple or similar clothes intentionally or unintentionally?? I think that would be cutee

tysm for requesting ♡ fem!reader

"Are you kidding me?" Derek asks, sounding like a kid in a candy store, a crisp twenty in his back pocket. 

Emily follows his line of sight and feels her cheeks apple unbidden, a delighted smile on her painted lips. "Oh, my god." 

"Yeah, Garcia?" Derek asks, phone to his ear, Penelope first on his speed dial. "You need to come and see this. Like, right now. Don't worry, baby, just come and see it for yourself." 

"I don't even know what to say." Emily stares at you. 

You usually dress in line with the other women in this profession: pants that aren't too tight so you can run in if needed, a simple blouse, and a blazer if you're feeling formal. 

Today, you've opted for something softer. It was a slow change, one day you were wearing a cashmere sweater, thin and fitted to your form. Another day, you chose to layer your shirt with a cardigan of a similar colour. 

Right now? You're all Spencer. Your slacks remain unchanged but your blouse has been swapped for a shirt with a stiff starched collar and layered under what can only be described as a grandpa sweater. It's not quite ugly, but it's almost identical to Spencer's. 

What's more, you've swapped your boots for converse. 

Spencer holds the door for you. He's chosen to wear a tie at least, clinging to that last strand of professional business attire. He has two coffees, one in each hand, while you carry a box. He's all elbows as he talks to you, and you, ever his fan, follow every word with a fond smile. 

"Hey, are you guys sharing a wardrobe now?" Derek asks, absolutely unwilling to hold back.

Emily piles on, "It's cute! You're totally an old married couple, you look like my grandparents." 

"What happened to your boots, lovergirl?" Derek asks, nodding at your cons, arms crossed over the back of his chair casually. "Don't get me wrong, I'm loving the sneakers." 

"You guys totally match," Emily coos. "You could be on a Christmas card." 

You smile —you smile, Emily might just call the news— and walk past them to your desk. Hotch has moved you away from Spencer knowing you'll encourage his endless chattering, which places you on a different island of desks next to Anderson and Agent Camille. 

Spencer put his coffee down on his desk, taking off his messenger bag. "Nice going, guys. She brought you donuts. You know, to apologise for calling you both antagonistic losers yesterday," he says, smiling at the mutual horror that crops up on their faces. "The fancy kind, too. She knew your favourite flavours without asking." 

From her desk, Emily can see you've opened the box and offered them to your desk mates, your expression unperturbed. "Just don't touch the chocolate sprinkle ones, they're for Spencer," you say.

No matter what they say, how sorry they sound, you give out the donuts to anyone who'll take one until they're all gone. When Garcia arrives, she finds you sitting in your desk chair with your head leaning against Spencer's stomach, taking alternate bites of the same sprinkle-covered donut like it isn't the most domestic, coupley thing you could be doing. 

Unlike Emily and Derek, Penelope genuinely thinks you look cute. "You guys are like Brangelina," she breathes, eyes wide, her smile infectious. 

Spencer fails to hide a grin, his hand on your shoulder. You're better at controlling your emotion, sliding a small parcelled package across the desk toward her.

"Thank you, Pen," you say. "I like the shoes. They're comfy. And the sweater was a gift." Spencer nods enthusiastically. 

That explains why you'd taken such an offence. Anything to do with Spencer raises your hackles. If you felt someone was making fun of his present to you, you'd defend him with your last dying breath, or, in this instance, punish your coworkers in his honour. 

"I'm sorry," Derek apologises again, "I was kidding! What do you want me to do, you want me to wear a sweater vest too? I can do that." 

You reach back to touch Spencer's side, levelling Derek with an impartial look. Not mad, not sad. Totally indifferent. "That could be a good start." 

Spencer hums. "I think so. You wanna borrow one of mine?"

The barest hint of a smile plays on your lips. "That's generous, Spence. You're a philanthropist."

"I am." He strokes the slope of your sweater-clad shoulder proudly. "You know me, I love sharing my wardrobe." 

[samkerrworshipper]

underneath the surface

umm so i’m back.. kind of? this fic was a rollercoaster but i hold it very near and dear to my heart. i hope you all enjoy it and find some comfort in it because i definitely do <3

warnings: no warnings just some medical jargon and talks of endometriosis!

Alexia has always been credited for her attentiveness.

Most people say that it’s the reason she’s such a good captain, and of course, she denies to everybody that she just goofs around less than some of her teammates.

But, inevitably, it’s true, Alexia is a lot more attentive than other people. She pays attention to the small things, the under the surface things, things that most people wouldn’t bat an eyelid at.

Although, in her opinion, she doesn’t need to be observant nor attentive to be curious about this one part of your relationship.

It doesn’t take brilliant observation skills to recognise a pattern, from the age of two most people are able to recognise patterns. For a two year old, it’s colours and shapes and different farm animals. For Alexia it’s become an observation.

It’s routine, a pattern, a constant repeat in your relationship that for the first few months she ignored.

Like a broken record constantly repeating itself, every month, without fail, you disappeared for a couple of nights.

Not literally, for those days you’ll retreat of the pitch and inside to the gym but Alexia still sees you everyday, and for the most part, you’ll still go out for coffee with her and go on walks together, but for at least three nights, sometimes up to 7, there are no sleepovers, no late night movie binges, no dinners.

It went unnoticed by Alexia for longer than normal, love was Alexia’s biggest weakness and it subtly impaired her abilities to be as observant as she prided herself.

Who could blame her? It was hard to be detail oriented when she was too busy enjoying the puppy dog love that came from realising that she was so in love with her life with you, even if it was still relatively new.

But, even with her focus partially impaired, it didn’t take a whole lot of skills to recognise the abnormality of what was occurring.

It was particularly abnormal, because for every other day of the month, you spent your nights at Alexia’s. Alexia would even go as far to say that you're pretty much moved into her apartment. Your dog had a bed in her apartment, your training kit and bag had a permanent spot at her door, most of your clothes were now sitting next to Alexia’s in her wardrobe.

Your apartment, for the most part, existed purely for the sake of storing all of your furniture. Alexia had brought up leasing it, you’d been dating for almost a year now and whilst it was a short time to move in with each other, the two of you spent so much time together that to her it made the most sense. Beyond that, it was her way of testing the water, to see if her observation was as real as she began to think it was.

Your immediate denial of the idea confirmed what she had been beginning to think.

Originally, she’d thought that maybe you were overwhelmed from constantly being around Alexia, it was a lot being at training together all day and then heading home to each other.

It didn't make sense though.

When you were together, you were attached at the hip. You were both naturally clingy towards each other and after questioning Mapi about it, as ambiguously as she could, she was backed up in that it wasn’t normal behaviour for an overwhelmed person to be so eager to be so connected.

So, the theory was canned and when the following month the same thing happened, Alexia’s curiosity peaked once again.

She moved onto a theory that maybe it was some kind of homesickness, that you just needed to sleep in your own bed a couple of nights every month.

But not only did you constantly complain about your own apartment and how unhomey it felt in comparison to Alexia’s, it was always the same week every month.

Which should have been the biggest clue, and yet for whatever reason it had completely slipped past Alexia.

It was only when one of the team doctors had approached Alexia about her cycle changing, that it all clicked for her.

Alexia’s period had skipped, and they’d logged it a couple of months ago. Obviously, without noticing, it had been because the two of you had synched up, which made plenty of sense.

Alexia’s period was an inconvenience, but it wasn’t a true bother, just something she had to put up with. In all honesties though, for her, her period was nothing to her, she had hardly any symptoms, her body functioned the exact same way, everything was almost the exact same.

Yet, every month, when apparently your period came around, you happened to disappear for a couple of days. Alexia would have loved to think it was a coincidence, but with her new knowledge, she decided to put it to test.

She wasn’t surprised, when the following month her own period came, a couple of days later you were back to hiding out at your place for a couple of nights.

Like lightwork, when you came back to Alexia, you were the exact same, like nothing had happened, and yet Alexia was certain that there was something being hidden underneath the surface.

A lot of people were insecure about their period, Alexia had grown up in a house full of girls, her period had been anything but stigmatised, and she was grateful for that.

She was self aware enough though to know that not everybody was fortunate enough to have that same experience. She was also aware that unfortunately, sometimes peoples partners could be unaccepting and close minded about those kinds of things.

So, when the following month, Alexia got her period and without fail, four days later you mentioned that you would drive yourself to training so that you could head back to your apartment afterwards, Alexia was already plotting away.

She had time to think about it during video review that day, there wasn’t a lot to focus on then when the team was coming off of a 4-0 win to Atletico and anything that was of importance, aAlexia had already noted when she’d watched the immediately after the game.

It was a sound plan in her mind, chocolate, a heat pack, your favourite italian takeaway, Alexia’s favourite hoodie that you always tried to steal and your favourite blanket from her apartment.

Alexia wanted you to know that you could be just as comfortable in her home, regardless of what was happening. Hopefully, in knowing that, you’d let go of the part of you that was so clearly avoiding Alexia.

Alexia, above being observant, liked to be a problem solver. She liked to take initiative, she liked to fix things.

So, after a shower and a quick snack when she’d returned home, she packed up all of the supplies. On the way to your apartment, which she hadn’t visited in months, she picked up food and then was on her way.

In the early months of your relationship, it had just been easier for the two of you to spend time at Alexia’s because it was closer to the training grounds and more lived in.

Whilst you’d been living in Barcelona now for nearly three years, your home was still in England, and it had been hard for you to fully settle into Barcelona even if it was your home for now.

Alexia knew it, so she’d welcomed you into her home with open arms. It had been heartwarming for her to slowly watch you integrate yourself into Alexia’s life, it made her happier then anything else.

So, she made her mind up that whatever this bump was, she was going to help you get over it, so that she could have all of you, and most importantly so you would feel like Alexia cared.

The feeling that Alexia got as she pulled up next to your car in the lot of your apartment was chilling, in her gut it felt like something was wrong. It was a feeling that set into Alexia's stomach as she stepped out of her car and hurried to collect her things before making her way over to the elevator.

Alexia stays as composed as she can manage, even though on the inside, the worry is starting to set in.

It’s not like theoretically she has anything to worry about, it’s not like this is an abnormal situation, but the weird feeling in Alexia’s stomach is putting her off and the only thing that she can think will make it better is seeing your face.

All Alexia wants to do is wrap you up in her arms for a moment, for her own peace of mind, to stop the off feeling that has been resonating inside of her as she’s tried to get to the bottom of this problem, that’s not really a problem. It’s an inconsistency, and one thing about Alexia is that she doesn’t like inconsistency. She fixes problems, she doesn’t enjoy living life whilst there is something that isn’t quite right, and she needs to make this right.

Alexia knocks at your door quietly, two little raps that she hopes you hear.

When she receives nothing in response, she knocks again, this time a little bit louder.

Alexia waits a few seconds, whilst it’s been a couple of hours since your session there is the off chance that you're in the shower or bath.

After quite a bit of waiting with no noises from the other side of the door, Alexia knocks once more, already pulling her keychain from her pocket and feeling for the spare key to your apartment.

When she finds it, she pulls it up to the lock, waiting just a few more seconds before slotting it into the keyhole and twisting it until it clicks.

The first thing Alexia notices is that your apartment is completely pitch black and if it weren’t for the fact that she saw your car earlier, she might have just left.

Alexia tiptoes her way through the entryway and into your kitchen, it’s hard to see much with all of the blinds pulled shut and none of the lights on, so she blindly feels around for the light switch until she finally finds it and flicks it.

The immediate groan that comes from the direction of your couch definitely does not go unnoticed by Alexia.

“Lights off.”

As fast as she can, Alexia turns the light back off, before curiously tiptoeing over to the edge of your couch.

You’re a lump under a pile of blankets, but she’s able to make out the shape of your body underneath it.

“Hey baby.”

You groan again, and the feeling in Alexia’s stomach only gets worse.

Alexia takes a few steps forwards, assessing you in front of her.

Her hand reaches out tentatively for you, she feels around the mass of blankets until she feels a part of your body underneath the pile of fluff, she follows the lump until she makes her way up to your head.

Your whole body is warm, or the blankets are warm, she isn’t actually quite sure where the blankets end and your body starts.

“Why are you here?”

Your voice is all croaky, and Alexia is certain you must be sick and she’s somehow missed all the symptoms of it.

“I wanted to spend the night with you.”

Alexia’s hand finally finds a bit of skin on your neck and she traces her fingers until she finds your jawline.

“Go home, Ale.”

The sound of your voice is making Alexia antsy, she can’t believe she’s missed the fact that you are sick.

“No, bebita, you’re sick and I’m here to look after you. I have your favourite food and chocolate, we can cuddle up in bed and you can sleep this off. I brought my hoodie for you.”

Alexia turns your head up, so your hair is peaking out of the blanket mound and she can see your squinted eyes.

“I’m not sick, Alexia.”

You keep your eyes crammed shut for the sake of not making the pounding headache you have any worse.

“Bebita, you’re all hot and croaky, it’s okay to be sick, I’m here to look after you.”

If you weren’t working so hard to keep your eyes closed you’d roll them, but that seems like far too much work for right now.

“Alexia I’m not sick, I’m just on my period.”

Alexia’s brow furrows, if your eyes weren’t closed you’d catch it. It’s the same furrow that always happens when Alexia thinks somebody else is wrong and she’s right.

“Bebita, this seems like a little bit more than a period. It’s okay, I’m here.”

You groan and Alexia recoils slightly.

“It’s just my period.”

Your deadpan makes Alexia confused.

“Your period shouldn’t be this bad. Are you having some heatstroke? It’s been warm out today, or are you having a migraine? You need to remember to hydrate.”

Your head is throbbing and Alexia’s theories aren’t helping.

“I have endometriosis Alexia, this is what my period looks like.It’s not fucking heatstroke or a sickness it’s just how my body is..”

Out of everything Alexia had been suspecting, that wasn’t it.

It suddenly dawns on Alexia that she can’t fix what you’ve just told her, she’s standing in front of you completely dumbfounded at what to do in this moment.

Alexia is a problem solver, she finds solutions for the biggest and smallest problems, and yet she doesn’t have a solution for the problem she is being faced with.

“Baby, just go home, the first night for me is always the worst, if I feel better I can hang out with you tomorrow.”

Alexia doesn’t have a solution to the pain you are going through, but she knows she isn’t going to let you suffer alone. The information that you’ve been doing this by yourself for a year now is making Alexia feel like the worst girlfriend ever and she’s going to change that.

“No, bebita, no. I’m staying here tonight, I’m here for you mi vida. Would it make you feel better if we got you into bed or into a bath? What’s going to make you more comfortable? Have you had medication? How about some food?”

When another groan leaves your lips, Alexia becomes aware that she’s approaching this the wrong way.

“How about I go and put the food in your kitchen and you decide what’s going to make you feel best. I’m here for whatever you need, okay?”

Alexia quietly tiptoes back into your kitchen, taking her time to put her things away and pulling two bottles of water from your fridge before making her way back into your living room.

You’ve emerged from your pile by the time she is back, your eyes are still closed but just seeing your face makes Alexia’s nerves settle just a little bit.

“Can we go to my bed, please?”

Alexia smiles at you softly.

“Of course amor, do you want me to carry you or do you think you can walk?”

The apprehension on your face is enough of a answer for Alexia.

She walks over towards you, picking up your blanket fort and body like it’s nothing and gently lifting you up, stepping carefully in the direction of your bedroom.

You groan out at the change of position, nothing feels good at the moment but Alexia’s arms are more comforting than the scratchy material of your couch cushions.

When she makes it to your bed, she lowers you down like you are the most delicate piece of glass, making sure that you’re tucked underneath the sheets before easing you out of your arms.

“Do you need anything? Heat pack? Water? Talk?”

Again, all Alexia’s words do is make the itching pain all over your body ten times worse, it’s all consuming and makes you feel choked.

“Bed, hugs, that’s all I want.”

Alexia is antsy, she wants to make the pain you are in better, she wants to know what to do right now instead of being completely blind in the situation.

“Are you sure? How about some pain relief or a cold compress?”

Alexia is no doctor, and up until five minutes ago she had absolutely no idea about this whole situation and whether she feels like she can admit it or not she’s terrified about it all.

She’s made up her mind that as soon as you're asleep she’s going to go on a deep dive of google searches to get to the bottom of this whole situation, but that will have to wait.

“Alexia, if you want to be here, just get into bed and give me some fucking hugs. I’m not in the mood to be told what to do with my body when I’ve been dealing with this for years, make up your mind of whether you want to be here or not.”

Alexia avoids conflict with you at all costs, she’s earned the title around your football friends of being your puppy dog, because she simply agrees to anything and everything that leaves your lips, and hearing you remotely mad at her makes her crumble.

“Sorry bebita, I’m so sorry, you’re right. I’m here for whatever you need.”

Alexia makes quick work of slipping her shoes off, something she never got around to in the darkness of your entryway.

She follows by taking her socks and outer layers off, stripping down until she’s in her tank top and a pair of old Barcelona training shorts.

Once she’s done she creeps around to the other side of your bed, slipping underneath the covers as subtly as she can manage.

When she’s completely covered, she lies back, unsure of how to approach all of this new information.

“You’re lying like a rigid corpse.”

Alexia gulps, she can see you in her peripherals, you look absolutely exhausted and in the kindest way possible, ten years older with the amount of wrinkles across your skin, bumps and ridges she can only imagine are the tightness holding in all of the struggle that you’re going through underneath the surface.

“Alexia, I’m okay, I’m not dying.”

Alexia knows theoretically that is true, she doesn’t have endometriosis and she’s not close to anybody who does, but she knows what it is. She knows it’s not cancer or something life-threatening, but the depth of the realisation that you’ve been suffering for so long and have kept it from Alexia is slowly pulling her apart at the seams.

You roll over slightly, it causes shocks of pain to go up and down your back and stomach, but you need the comfort as much as Alexia does, even if she isn’t ready to accept it.

She’s going through her process, compartmentalising all of it so she can be the brave and stoic face she always is.

You’re used to it, and you’ve come to realise that even though in these kinds of situations it seems like Alexia needs to be left alone, in reality she needs to be kept close by her nearest and dearest.

So, you worm your way on top of her body, it makes the cramps ten times worse and the nausea takes control of your stomach, forcing somersault after somersault, but when Alexia’s arms reach around you out of instinct it’s worth it.

You’re in pain, your uterus feels like it’s got knives embedded along the lining of it, like there are needles poking in and out of your back and gunshots being fired across your lower abdomen. But you’re well used to it, you’re used to the feeling of needing to throw up from having such intense throbbing pain across your whole core.

You’re used to the pounding headaches and migraines that come naturally from your body being so inflamed and agitated that all the tension eventually spreads to every single inch of your body, from the tips of your fingers to the edges of your toes.

Your head settles on Alexia’s shoulder, and her hand snakes it’s way down to the outside of your thigh, she’s being more cautious than she’s ever been with you and the normal you would probably be heartwarmed by her sweetness but the part of you that is currently seeing the worst kind of stars because of the cramps coursing through your body is just desperate to climb into her bones now that she is here with you.

It’s been ingrained in you since you were a kid that it was best to not bother other people with your weakness, it was your own struggle, your own burden.

You’d kept it from Alexia for this sole purpose, for the purpose that you knew she would take it all on as her problem, that she would try and fix it all and spend all of her time and energy trying to solve it all when you just wanted her to treat you the exact same.

She treated you like a princess everyday, but add a crippling reproductive condition and you knew she’d treat you like a priceless artefact. You were grateful you had a person in your life who would move heaven and earth in such a way for you but it was suffocating sometimes, when you were functioning on a normal level.

It was with those thoughts running rampant in your head that you slipped off into the same light sleep that you were lucky to drift into in these circumstances.

Whilst you drifted off, Alexia was left alone with her own thoughts.

Insecurity wasn’t something Alexia experienced often, she was secure in her body, she is as secure in her football as she has been since her knee injury, she’s secure in her family and up until today she felt completely secure in her relationship.

Now, she doesn’t know how she feels.

She knows that it’s likely you have a good reason to have kept this a secret, or a reason that you’ve justified to yourself. She knows underneath it all, you’re the one who’s secretly been hiding a big insecurity from her and she has no right to be truly mad about it, she’s disappointed that you haven’t felt able to share this with her when it feels like Alexia has bared all of her deepest, boniest secrets with you.

She does what makes sense, she reaches for her phone from her short pocket and begins to google all of the big questions that are swirling around in her mind.

You might have wanted to keep this a secret from Alexia but now that she knows about it she’d be a bad girlfriend if she didn’t educate herself on this.

So, instead of drifting off to sleep, Alexia drifts off into the land of medical journals and words that she doesn’t understand the meaning of but she’s determined to figure out.

You wake up in the morning in less of a state of excruciating suffering, instead of being stuck in a fiery inferno of hell you feel like you're dancing more on the periphery.

Your body is warm, in a way that makes you feel less like your insides are scorching you from the inside and more like you're generally just hot.

It feels like a caterpillar emerging from its cocoon as you try to unroll from the blankets that you’d swaddled yourself in the night beforehand in an attempt to try and make yourself feel as small as possible in hopes it would somehow shrink down everything you were feeling.

It’s a feverish dream, and as you recall your night, blotches begin to come back to you and the memory of your girlfriend appearing somewhere along the way makes the dull cramps across the front of your stomach beat in a way that makes you uncomfortably uneasy all over again.

As you assess your surroundings and open your eyes for what feels like the first time in months, you notice that Alexia is no longer in bed with you.

It’s all extremely faint in your head and there is an off chance you’ve dreamt it all up, but the very faint smell of coffee drifting through the air and folded up clothes sitting on the dresser on the wall across from your bed.

You’re feeling less deathly than last night, so you wager your chances with slowly sitting up in your bed, when you don’t feel any different you begin to lift your legs up.

Your muscles ache in the same way they do every time your period comes around, they tweak and they constrict like you’re an eighty year old instead of a twenty something.

It’s rough, it’s uncomfortable and it’s painful but it’s life.

It’s your life, it’s your burden, it’s your problem and knowing that Alexia is now a part of it all makes you queasy in a completely different way.

Your heavy on your feet as you stand up and begin to creep towards the door of your bedroom, with every step every one of your toes grinds against the floorboards. Your heel digs in, your ankles crunch, your body moves in a way that mirrors the way that you are crumbling from within. On these kinds of days, weeks and months, everything hurts. Everything is an effort.

Once you make it to your open door, you steady yourself against it, your nerves are working against you, everything inside of you is actively trying to stop you and you’ll be damned if you let it happen.

You only stand still long enough for it to be classified in your brain as a stall, not a break, not a stop. You can’t stop in times like this, if you stop then you’ll never get going again and that is a whole pit of fuckedupness that you aren’t ready to dive into.

From the door, you try your hardest to tiptoe your way through the hallway to your living space, but it’s impossible in your body.

As you inch closer, the sound of Alexia only becomes more apparent and obvious, and as you creep closer the agitation across your body only gets worse.

As you reach the archway between your hallway and living space, the sight in front of you makes your heart throb and your uterus ache even worse then it already is.

Alexia is swaying in your kitchen, apparently to whatever music she has playing in her head. There is coffee on the counter, accompanied by two bottles of juice and water, like she couldn’t decide what would be best. To accompany the extra drinks is toast, eggs, bacon and pancakes on the stove.

It’s too much.

With the combination of hormones in your bloodstream you’re honestly impressed that you don’t burst into tears.

Alexia’s still here.

Alexia, sweet, loyal Alexia.

You’ve been conditioned to keep all of this a secret, that during this week it’s best to keep yourself and everything you’re going through hidden, for the best of yourself and for everyone around you. Yet, here Alexia is doing way too much for you.

You’re downward spiralling when her voice breaks you out.

“Hey bebe.”

Her voice is close to a coo, the same voice she uses with Irene’s son. You don’t let it affect you in the moment, but you’ll think about the tactic of it later.

“I have food for you, and coffee if you want it, but google told me that sometimes that’s not always good for endometriosis. So I got juice as well, because google also said it might help with inflammation.”

The thought behind it is extremely sweet, and you feel slightly overwhelmed by all of the options.

“You didn’t need to do that for me.”

Alexia frowns, it’s slight and hardly noticeable, but the little wrinkle between her eyebrows is an immediate tell.

“I wanted to, I want to help you, however I can.”

The sentiment behind her words is lost in the sudden shock that you experience as her words settle in, you’ve never met a single person, besides a doctor whose job it was to help you, that gave a shit about this.

When you have no words, Alexia finds some for you.

“I want to talk to you about this, I want to know about it, I want to help you. We’re partners, we do everything together, and I want to do this with you. I don’t want you to lock me out and I don’t want you suffering alone. I’m here for this, I’m here for you to lean on.”

You nod your head, her words feel like a drug, like it’s lifting away some of the pain you’re going through.

“I’m serious, this isn’t something you can hide from me. You looked after me when I hurt my knee and I am here to look after you in the same way when you’re in pain. Bebita?”

Alexia’s hand falls to your side, caressing your hip gently.

“I’m not used to people knowing about this, and I’m even more not used to people caring, I’m sorry, it’s just a lot to process.”

Alexia’s face softens, and before you can say any other stupid mumbles, she pulls you from the hip into her body. Her arms are warm, and yet oddly they soothe your prickly skin.

You melt into Alexia, you feel like shit but she makes you feel marginally better.

“Coffee, or juice?”

You stifle a giggle that falls from your lips.

“Juice, please.”

Alexia relaxes her arms, taking a step back.

“Can I get you any pain relief, or a new heat pack? Is your headache better?”

Alexia looks at you with so much genuine care that it’s hard to not feel embarrassed.

“Pain relief doesn’t sit well in my stomach on a good day. I save heat packs for when the cramps are really bad or else they don’t have the same effect. My headaches normally are at the end of the day as a result of tension build up during the day.”

Alexia looks as if she’s taking mental note of everything you’ve just told her, for later.

“How about some food, hmm?”

You want to say yes, because Alexia’s clearly gone to so much effort for you, but you know that if you eat this early and then train your stomach contents is going to end up on a pitch or somewhere inconvenient.

“My stomach won’t keep it if we train later, I’m better to eat afterwards.”

Alexia’s brow furrows once again.

“I called the doctor and Pere this morning, we’re both taking today off.”

Everything warm and good about the moment fades, and suddenly all you feel is confusion.

“Why did you do that?”

Alexia steps away from you and retreats into your kitchen, grabbing a glass for you and picking up the bottle of juice that she knows you prefer.

“Because I thought you were dying last night, and you can’t tell me that all of that has just disappeared this morning. You’re struggling and you don’t need to push through pain to prove that you are worthy or good enough. You’re self worth shouldn’t be dictated by you proving to yourself that you can work through a chronic disease. I’m sorry that I didn't notice earlier and that I wasn't there for you earlier but I'm here to advocate for you now.”

You want to tell Alexia that you don’t need an advocate, you can advocate just fine for yourself. But a part of you knows that she doesn’t want to hear it and that part of you is also the part that is crippling from the inside and simply doesn’t have the energy to argue with your girlfriend.

“I train just fine normally.”

Alexia can’t argue that, even though you spend the time in the gym, she’s never heard of anything out of the ordinary occurring.

“But you don’t have to. In fact when I talked to our doctor she told me that she’d been insisting on you being more cautious of your cycle and spending more time resting during it considering your history.”

You roll your eyes, taking the glass of juice Alexia offers you.

Alexia plates up a breakfast that could feed a family of four, but it makes you feel less bad for not eating any of it.

“It’s my body, I know my limits.”

You focus on your glass of juice and not the face Alexia makes at you.

“You know how to continuously meet and exceed your limits, but what about just leaving them and giving yourself some peace. I know nothing about what you are going through, I can only sympathise. But I know this must be incredibly hard and I know you definitely do not give yourself enough grace and definitely don’t care for your needs enough. I’m here for you to confide in, I’ve done my research, I’m prepared to help however you need.”

It’s endearing how clearly prepared Alexia has made herself.

“You’ve done your research, hmm?”

Alexia nods proudly.

“Lots of it. Like about how orgasms can help with cramps.”

She looks like she’s going to say more, but you splutter your juice straight back into your cup, causing her to stop.

Alexia’s always been more open with her sexuality then you are, it’s culturally more acceptable in Spain but she also grew up with it being slightly more normalised.

“Alexia.”

Her grin is broad, like she’s proud that she’s managed to embarrass you.

“It’s true! Although for some people endometriosis can cause pain whilst having sex, so if you’re one of those people then it may not work but if you want to try I’m happy to help, fingers, toys, everything but mouths is on the table.”

Your blush only gets more cemented.

“I’m okay for right now, the thought of any kind of intimacy makes my fallopian tubes ache.”

Alexia nods her head, you are certain that sometime in the future this topic will arise again. Alexia’s rabbit-like sex drive makes it hard to not involve sex in everything you do together.

“Can I ask what your symptoms normally look like?”

Alexia’s lip is caught between her teeth, it’s the first time she’s looked nervous this entire conversation.

“Of course. Normally for me, I get bad pelvic pain which never really goes away, sweats, fever sometimes, cramps everywhere, i bloat, i get quite nauseous and occasionally it can make me moody. Furthermore, it can cause me to have migraines, some joint pain, insomnia, there are other things but those are the main ones. Overall it just makes me drained, i’m more fatigued but I can’t sleep, it makes me feel pretty lifeless.”

Alexia nods, she listens to every single word with so much attention.

“I always assumed the scars on your stomach were from getting your appendix removed, but I’m assuming now it’s a laparoscopy?”

You’re impressed by the level of detail Alexia has gone to for you.

“I have had my appendix removed but also yes, I’ve had two laparoscopy’s and I’m putting off getting my third done.”

Alexia nods.

“Do they make it better?”

You bite your lip before nodding.

“It’s never perfect, but for a bit it definitely makes my symptoms better. I’m putting off getting my next one because the last time I did it put me out of action for two months and it took me a while to get back to where I was. My body is different, it changes you. Before you ask, I’ve tried birth control, I’ve tried IUD’s, I’ve tried other forms of contraception, they all made it impossible for me to play football.”

Alexia shakes her head.

“I wasn’t going to ask you that, it’s your decision what you do and don’t put in your body, and I’m sure you’re just making whatever decisions work best for you.”

It’s refreshing having somebody not question what you do and don’t do for yourself.

“That means a lot to me.”

Alexia puts down her cutlery, her food somehow disappearing into her stomach.

“It’s just what love is, and I’m here to love you for forever, if you’ll let me.”

You’ve put off crying, you’ve tried your very best, but it’s not possible anymore.

The tears fall freely, and before you know it Alexia has pulled you into her lap.

It hurts, everything hurts, and yet everything feels so much better knowing you’re in her arms.

“I’ve got you bebita, I’m here now, I’m here to help you work this all out.”

——————————————————————

whelp that’s done! thoughts, feedback and general opinions would be appreciated! i’m so happy to have made something for yall and it’s rushed and super unedited and definitely not my favorite work but i hope you enjoy it all the same 🫶

[pepperyduck]

cheater, pt.2 - satoru gojo

word count: 1.2k

warnings: heartbroken gojo, jealousy, spiteful cheating, descriptions of suguru geto x reader, marriage problems, pathetic gojo. (18+ mdni!)

notes: gosh thank u for all the love on the last part!!! please read pt. 1 before this one, or don't, it's rly up to u.

you can find part one here

masterlist

multitudes of shopping bags rustle when you enter your home, a home that’s been silent for months now since satoru left you for his girlfriend. he didn’t actually leave, traces of him still lingered around the house from time to time when he wasn’t out with her, but those encounters remained faint traces, you had barely spoken to him unless it was to discuss something important.

you had mostly talked to satoru about a possible divorce – he brought the subject up after weeks of his girlfriend begging him to be with her for good now.

“your parents will disown you, satoru,” you had said, physically ignoring the man that sat across the kitchen from you, “and mine will hate you. plus, you don’t make that much money now, anyway.” you passively insulted the man. satoru agreed, however, his parents adored you since birth, and divorce was one of the things they wouldn’t put up with. the marriage started for convenience, and it would stay that way until one of you mustered up the courage to make a divorce final.

the current situation wasn’t all bad, though, it was an agreement without words that you and satoru lived married while he had his fun. and with the more fun he had, the less you began to care. it was the first time in your life you were genuinely able to focus on yourself without a husband to worry about. you concocted many hobbies, you learned how to cook healthier – no longer having to adjust your tastes to satoru’s liking – and decided to hit the gym a few days a week. progress started slowly, but you could see the tone in your body begin to show after a few months.

now, you had time to think about your appearance more, you tried new things with your hair and makeup, you bought a new wardrobe to fit your liking better. your old clothes stayed pushed to the side, growing wrinkly as you filled your closet up with better designer brands, you no longer worried about what satoru thought of you. satoru had moved his things into a different room, leaving you the space of the master bedroom to fill up with décor you fancied. your confidence grew more than ever, beginning to feel beautiful after a while.

you were always beautiful, of course, but it’s a much better feeling when you can see it in the mirror.

deciding to give your husband a taste of his own medicine, you start to date around and dip your toes into the wonderful world of hookups and first dates. you think it’s insane how easily men are on their knees, begging for you to go on a date with them, just one date, please! you got better treatment over the course of a month than you ever had with satoru; men would vow their loyalty to you, something satoru never did, obviously.

after satoru’s refusal to divorce you, his girlfriend left him, but the fact was unknown to you. sure, you noticed him moping around the house more often, but you figured he finally got tired of her and needed space. but his time at home forced him to see you come home with all kinds of guys, ones that were taller, handsomer, and stronger than him.

satoru saw the change in you, and god, he had never felt so in love with you since you found your new confidence and style. you were simply ravishing, and now satoru feels a pang of guilt for failing to realize what he had in front of him for so long.

the envy that boiled in his chest was a new feeling for him. he never thought he would be jealous of you giving him the same treatment he had been giving you. yet, there he was, watching from the kitchen as you giggle wrapped in someone else’s arms, furiously making out in the entryway without paying any mind to satoru. it bothered him.

and, oh boy, when you walk through the door with his ex-best friend from college, suguru, satoru swears he could go crazy.

satoru’s eyes focus their attention from some tv dinner to the door when you and suguru stumble though, laughing and carried away in one another’s presence. he had never seen you feel so alive, not even when you didn’t know he was cheating, you never acted that way with him. satoru has a look in his eyes the instant he sees you, the same look he had when he was about to kill someone, a crazed, insane look.

suguru flips you around and pins you to the wall, so he’s facing right at satoru, and he looks him in the eyes as he fiercely makes out with you.

if satoru had a gun, he’d point it right at the both of you.

yet he doesn’t have a gun, or anything really, just a fit of jealously growing stronger and stronger the more you make out with someone that hurt him so badly.

so this is what it feels like, huh?

satoru stands up and slams his chair back under the table, only growing angry when it doesn’t seem to phase you at all. he goes upstairs and slams the door to his room shut when he enters. he doesn’t…he can’t do anything. he can’t stop you from having free will, and he definitely can’t call you out for doing the same thing to him that he did to you. he sits down on the bed, a bed he should’ve been sharing with you, and he tangles his fingers in his hair, insecure thoughts clouding his mind.

for once in his life, the smug bastard known as satoru gojo was pitiful.

the screams of suguru’s name keep satoru up until the early hours of the morning.

the next day, you’re cooking breakfast later in the morning after suguru leaves. it feels like a very successful night. satoru walks into the kitchen, having had a sleepless night, and plops down at the table while he stares at you.

you’re so perfect, you always have been, why did he have to be so stupid about ruining his marriage with the perfect woman?

“so, suguru, huh?” satoru questions, crossing his arms.

“hmm?” you hum, viciously smiling inside because the bothered tone satoru had was so deliciously obvious.

“listen,” satoru starts, hesitating for a moment because he might pity himself for the way he’s about to speak to you. “i’m…sorry,” he mutters, almost inaudible, sighing afterwards.

you glance over your shoulder, seeing your husband look so tired and…hurt?

“don’t apologize, satoru. you and i both know it’s much too late for that now,” you aptly reply, “you should’ve thought about that long ago.”

your words are a knife in satoru’s chest, and it only feels as if you’re stabbing him over and over the more you speak, looking away from him again to focus on the stovetop.

“don’t apologize to me because you feel bad now. you’re only saying sorry because your feelings are the ones getting hurt this time,” your words send waves of guilt, sadness, and downright pain through your husbands body, “and quite frankly, i don’t care.”

satoru wants to retort, he wants to reply with something smug but his mind draws a blank as he only stares at you, ultimately betrayed by his own actions — his once kind, sweet wife has left him behind in a mess of himself.

his apologies no longer mean anything to you. you’ve grown too strong for satoru. he’ll continue to be a pathetic mess, until one day, hopefully, you choose to forgive him for what he’s done.

maybe you will, maybe you won’t. it’s up for you to decide.

taglist: @kalopsia-flaneur @painted-hills @kundere20000000

let me know if u wanna be added!

[chuusmuts]

imagine innocent!kabukimono losing his mind

smut. afab reader, fingering, slight boobs and nipple play, oral (female receiving), marking, fingering. not proofread.

yeah, it's been a while ig... anyway, new ver of innocent kabukimono because why not (can't really call him innocent now but idk and tbh idc).

who would've thought that the day when he had to rate your dress would come? oftentimes, you would wear a casual outfit everyday, even to gatherings. but this, this was different– you were meeting your girl friends which you hadn't seen in years. so obviously, you wanted to look as pretty as you could.

therefore, here he was, seated on your bed as he watched you picked all kind of dresses from your wardrobe before throwing them beside him. he could feel his cheeks heating up at seeing you in just a towel as he tried his hardest to play it off as if he wasn't affected by your presence. but the fact that his dick was tenting his kimono was a dead giveaway.

"oh... uhm..." he fumbled over his words as blush dusted his cheeks and ears. "i- i can help you with that." he stuttered out, shifting uncomfortably on the soft mattress. his gaze flickered between the dresses laid out and your exposed skin, torn between choosing one and admiring you. his heart rate quickened as you took a step closer to him, choosing a few dresses.

"but i- it might be better if you picked something yourself." he suggested timidly, his voice barely above a whisper. he couldn't bear the thought of seeing you uncomfortable because of him. you put your index finger against your chin, indicating you're thinking before speaking up while holding up two elegant dresses, "then, i'll try both of these dresses and you tell me which one is prettier, okay?" without waiting for his response, you ran into the bathroom and changed into one of the dresses you chose.

minutes later, kabukimono watched with wide-eyed as you emerged from the bathroom wearing a short, black dress. It clung to every curve of your body, leaving little to his imagination. his breath hitched in his throat, and his mouth immediately went dry. "what do you think? mind rating from one to ten?" you spun around, a happy smile plastered on your cute face. the way your hips tilted gave a glimpse of ass crack showing just how short your dress was.

his eyes trailed down your body, taking in the way the fabric hugged your hips and accentuated your ass. he swallowed hard as unholy thoughts started to filled his mind. this was too much for him, and yet he couldn't tear his gaze away. subconsciously, his gaze dropped lower to where the hem of the dress rode up slightly to reveal a hint of your crack, causing the urge to touch you and to feel your soft skin under his fingers was mind-blowing."t- ten. i-it's... it's really pretty..." he murmured, shakily.

your smile grew even wider after hearing his response. you grabbed another dress excitedly and quickly ran to the bathroom. "i'll try this one next. don't go anywhere!" you said while you did so. he nodded jerkily, his eyes glued to your retreating form. he tried to look away, but he found himself unable to resist watching as you disappeared behind the bathroom door. this was definitely strange— he was just a puppet, a failed, innocent puppet who was thrown away and was exposed to this cruel world. this wasn't supposed to happen, but he couldn't help it as the image of your fresh ass crack flashed in his mind, making his dick throb even harder.

he groaned softly, rubbing his free hand over his throbbing member through the fabric of his kimono. it was becoming more and more obvious that he was getting turned on by this whole situation. he waited impatiently, shifting from foot to foot as he tried to ignore the ache in his groin. he knew that he shouldn't be touching himself like this, but he couldn't seem to stop. just the thought of you coming back out in that other dress was driving him wild.

though, as soon as he heard the creaking of the door, he immediately removed his hand from his member and tried to act normal. it's amazing how you're so oblivious to his abnormal breathing and the way he's sweating and blushing so much. nevertheless, you stepped out of the bathroom shyly with a blush coating cheeks, "w- what do you think about this one?" you looked breathtaking in the new dress– a pastel pink number that clung to your curves even tighter than the previous one.

kabukimono's eyes widened as you stood in front of him. the low neckline revealed more of your cleavage was mouthwatering, and the off-the-shoulder design left your shoulders bare, accentuating your slender neck. he loved the way the dress fell just above your ankles, creating a sense of elegance and grace.

"fuck." he cursed to himself. "it's..." he paused, struggling to find the right word. his gaze kept darting between your face and your breasts that were practically spilling out from the dress, lost in the beautiful sight of you. "...breathtaking." the word slipped out before he could censor himself. without realizing it, he took a step towards you, his eyes filled with desire. his tongue swiped over his lips as he fought the urge to reach out and touch you.

the blush on your cheeks darkened and you instantly turned shy. you didn't know what got into you but your smaller fingers swiftly reached out to him, holding his hand gently and pulling him closer, "do you want to touch my dress, kabuki?"

and the next moment you knew, you were pinned by him.

it was quick when he pushed you against the bed, his weight was pressed into yours, on top of yours. he found himself breathing heavily as if he didn't know how to breathe at the first place. his hands were beside your head, trapping you and suddenly he didn't understand why he needed to wear clothes anymore, why YOU needed to wear that gorgeous dress anymore. it was as if his sanity had left him, the desire to touch you, to fuck you getting stronger and overwhelming him.

he was desperate, desperate for you.

"...kabukimono?" you asked confusingly, your hands crawling up to caress his cheek and your thumb brushing against his lips which caused his breath to hitch and his eyes fluttered shut. the sensation of your thumb brushing against his lips was almost too much, sending shivers shooting through his veins and making you irresistible.

he opened his eyes again, looking down at you with a mix of desperation and longing. his hands tightened around yours, pulling them away from his face and bringing them down to rest on your waist. "i... i can't help it." he whispered, his voice husky with arousal.

his hips grounded against yours, the hardness of his cock pressing insistently against the thin fabric of your dress and he bit his lower lip, stiffling the moan he accidentally let out. "you're so fucking sexy." he breathed out, leaning down to press his forehead against yours.

your eyes dilated slightly before the corner of your mouth curved upward into a soft smile. then carefully, and without a word, you lifted up his head and pulled it back down until both of your lips met. it was slow, sensual and soft kiss, one that he'd never expect from you.

but he groaned into your lips, urging you to go faster and kept up with him. he drank your lips in a quick and careless way without any thought about the future as you tried your best to keep up with his intense speed. a moan escaped your lips and your eyes were closed as his hand found itself on your nape.

kabukimono's world narrowed down to the feeling of your lips against his own. he kissed you fiercely, hungrily, as if he was starved for the taste of you while his hand on your nape tightened, tilting your head to deepen the kiss. the other hand slid up from your collarbone to you shoulder before slipping beneath the hem of your dress.

his fingers danced across your skin, teasing over the swell of your breast before cupping its softness. he squeezed them gently, massaging the firm mound as he continued to ravage your mouth with his, causing soft moans continued spilling from your delicious lips. a soft growl rumbled in his throat, vibrating against your lips. in that moment, kabukimono was consumed by need, he wanted nothing more than to tear away the layers of fabric separating their bodies and claim you completely.

and he did just that.

unwittingly, you whined loudly as he ripped off your dress and left you naked. arching your back, you felt his tongue licking the tip of your nipple. "fuck..." he growled against your tits as he sucked them eagerly. he tasted of sweat and need, and it was driving you crazy. your body trembled under his, but instead of pushing him away, your legs parted subtly, inviting him to move lower.

he leaned forward once more, kissing and sucking all over your skin until red and purple marks were all over you. each nip and lick sent shivers running down your spine, until you could feel yourself growing wetter beneath your dress.

kabukimono's attention was solely focused on your body, on every inch of skin he could see and touch. he lavished attention on each breast, suckling and nibbling until they were flushed and throbbing. his hands roamed over your curves, squeezing and kneading the flesh as if trying to imprint his touch onto your skin.

as he moved further south, his kisses trailed along your stomach before reaching the apex of your thighs. he glanced up at you, his indigo eyes burning with lust as he saw the slick evidence of your arousal. without hesitation, he inhaled your scent deeply before burying his face between your legs.

his hands firmly spread your thighs wide, giving him full access to feast upon your dripping cunt, exposing your clit to his eager mouth. a lewd soud keened from your throat as he dipped his tongue into your folds, tasting the sweet essence of your arousal. a guttural moan vibrated against your clit as he licked and lapped at your pussy. he was relentless as his mouth worshipped every inch of inside your walls, making your breath hitched endlessly and your hips bucked involuntarily every time he let out a loud slurping sound.

feeling your body react to his ministrations especially your hands which were gripping and pulling on his hair tightly only spurred him on further. his tongue delved deeper into your warmth, lapping at the sensitive walls of your pussy. his hands held you steady, one gripping your hip tightly while the other wandered upwards to tease your hardened nipple. he sucked hard on the little nubbin, using his teeth to give a slight pinch before returning to your needy slit.

kabukimono was lost in the taste of you, in the way your body quivered and squirmed beneath his touch. it was intoxicating, driving him wild with desire.

the previous hand had slipped between your legs and he slipped two fingers into your wetness. he curled them, seeking out that sensitive spot inside you that would make you scream. his thumb circled your swollen clit, making sure to apply pressure that had jolts of electricity coursing through your body and you writhing beneath him.y

he pumped his fingers slowly, setting a rhythm that made your toes curl. every thrust was accompanied by another slurping or a sharp nip of his teeth teeth on your clit. tears gathered at the corner of your eyes and perspiration began to run down your forehead as you pulled his hair harder due to the dual assault on your sex.

kabukimono worked his fingers and mouth in perfect harmony, intent on drawing out your pleasure until you were a trembling mess beneath him. his tongue flicked over your clit, alternating between gentle licks and rough sucks.

the sounds of your moans and whimpers as well as his filled the air. once more he curled them, finding that sweet spot that made you gasp and arch your back. with his free hand, he reached up to stroke himself through the thin fabric of his kimono. the friction was deliciously torturous, adding another layer of sensation to the already overwhelming experience. he grunted softly and his movements becoming more erratic as he neared his own edge. he felt like he could cum just by eating you out and hearing your whimpers.

with every stroke, he felt you tighten around his fingers, your body ready to explode under his relentless onslaught. yet, he quickly stopped before you could cum, pulling out his mouth as well as his fingers from your drooling cunt, making you whined needily. chuckling breathlessly, he licked your slick off his fingers before slipping off his kimono, revealing his hard length and pushing it entirely into you.

and instead of letting you cry out, he pressed his lips against yours, silencing you as he jerked into you. your walls immediately clenched around him, signaling that you were close to cumming. kabukimono broke the kiss momentarily, panting heavily as he thrust into you. his cock was thick and hard, stretching you deliciously while he began to move. he grabbed your ass firmly, angling his hips so that he could hit that sweet spot inside you.

his thrusts became more urgent, more fast and hard. with each push he grunted, his voice a low rumble against your skin. you could feel his pulse quickening and his strokes becoming erratic. his lips found yours again, muffling your cries of pleasure. though, there was no hiding the way your body shook underneath him as well as how your inner muscles clenched around him as you teetered on the brink of release.

you yelped in pleasure as he continued to abuse your hole. once more, he pulled out his entire length and slammed it back into you, succesfully making you saw stars as you came with a loud mewl. you breathed heavily, head still dizzy from the pleasure.

he didn't gave you a chance to rest as he relentlessly pounded into you until he could hold back no longer. but before he reached his climax, you could hear him sobbing quietly. "fuck, you feel so good, i don't want this to end..." and he released his seed, filling you up with a cry just as loud as yours.

kabukimono was shaking, his body tensing as he spilled his seed deep inside you, as tears streamed down his cheeks. he slowed down his pace, his thrusts more gentler now as he rode out his orgasm all while his cock twitched inside your clenching walls.

he collapsed on top of you, breathing heavily. his sobs were quiet, barely audible above the sound of your racing heartbeat. his body trembled slightly just as he came down from his high and his grip on your thigh loosening. despite everything, there was something undeniably comforting about being close to you. resting his forehead against yours, he took a moment to catch his breath before lifting himself off of you. but even as he did, he couldn't help but pull you closer, craving and needing the contact.

and now you're in his arms as he planted feather-light kisses all over you, your cheeks, your nose, your forehead, your hands, your arms and your neck as he murmured. "i'm sorry, i apologize deeply, i didn't know what came into me. that must had hurt."

you stared at him dumbfounded, eyes still glassy, speechless as he grabbed the back of your hands and kissed them, including each one of your knuckles. a soft smile then appeared on your face before you placed your hand on his hair, caressing it gently. "don't worry about me, i'm fine. how about you? you should worry about yourself too."

kabukimono looked up at you, his indigo eyes shimmering with unshed tears. he let out a shaky sigh, leaning into your touch. "i'm alright... i think," he managed to say, his voice barely above a whisper. his hands moved to cup your face, thumbs brushing away the remaining tears.

he leaned forward, pressing a soft, tender kiss to your lips. there was nothing forceful or demanding about it; instead, it was slow and gentle, almost reverential. it wasn't often that kabukimono allowed himself such moments of vulnerability, but with you, he seemed unable to resist. he needed you, craved your touch, your affection. and right now, in this moment, he felt truly content.

in the end, you had to wait for him to sleep before getting up and getting ready again for the gathering. the event almost came to an end when you arrived there.

[teufelsabbiss]

Thinking about it, most stories I saw in which Liu Qingge is trans had people find out (mostly either SY!SQQ or OG!SQQ) and there was suddenly new found soft(er) feelings and appreciation for him. But what if instead this changes nothing for OG!SQQ?

Imagine Liu Qingge has a serious wardrobe malfunction during a mission (conveniently shredded by monster claws or acid that only affects clothes, the typical wife plot bs) and OG!Shen Qingqiu of all people sees the secret bits in full view. And obviously Liu Qingge is very angry about this as well as worried the resident lecher is going to perv on him now. Because it would be very unfortunate if he did, bringing back Shen Qingqiu's hacked up corpse wouldn't go over well with the sect leader after all.

But nothing changes. Shen Qingqiu acts offended to have gotten an indecent, unwanted eyeful of someone's private parts on principle and mocks how the oh so infallible war god was failing to keep his clothes intact, and that's it. Liu Qingge is a man and the same loathsome brute and he hates him.

Only a handful of people know Liu Qingge is trans and everyone treated him slightly differently after finding out. Most were trying to be nicer to him, but this was irritating too since it was still treating him differently. And Shen Qingqiu of all people is the one who doesn't give one iota! Doesn't drop implications to other people either. If only the man wasn't his enemy...

SQQ: I hate men

*looks at LQG's clit*

SQQ: You're a man and I hate you

LQG: …....

SQQ: What!

LQG:........enemies to lovers?

[cursedcola]

Prompt: "Will You Marry Me?" - Proposal Headcannons Characters: Everyone :) Part(s): Heartslabyul, Savanaclaw(Here!), Octavinelle, Scarabia, Pomefiore, Ignihyde, Diasomnia(Pt.1)(Pt.2) Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Warning(s): None. I mean, unless you don't want to marry any of them. Just don't read if that's the case. Note: These are all if he is the one proposing btw. I've been thinking about maybe programming a small fan-made mini-otome using these ideas. Just for some practice for school while also being self indulgent hehe

Leona Kingscholar

Let’s just rip the bandaid off. Leona dates to marry. He’s not someone to invest his time in something troublesome, and frankly? Not many people catch his interest. Sure. He might think someone is physically attractive, but there’s a difference. He doesn’t follow the traditional path either. The ‘dating’ stage doesn’t last long because he’s already made up his mind prior to it.

Dating is pretty much just formality. The moment you agree to it, you’re essentially agreeing to marry him. He’s not going to put in effort for just anyone. Bonus points if he’s the one to confess his feelings first. That is basically concrete confirmation that he intends to marry you.

Leona proposing is inevitable. Only two things stand in his way: time and pride. Time, because he is no idiot. Your ways are unlike his people, and unlike him. He’s patient. He knows how to play the game. He can wait, but not forever. He’ll observe you over time and slip in questions here and there about your goals in life. Then he’ll find a good time frame. Please remember that Leona is not just an ambitious hot-head. He’s a smart one.

Then there is his pride. He will not put himself in a position that has a chance to fail. No. He will play dirty, and wait until you are tinkering with the idea of marriage. He’ll steer conversations towards talks of the future, and make it so you’re the one who starts them. All to get you warmed up to the idea of spending your life with him, and to a stage where he can clearly tell where you lie emotionally. He might appear neutral on the outside; however, it’s all according to plan. While you are just beginning to imagine your lives together, Leona’s already had the thought process long prior. You don’t need to know that though.

The icing on the cake is when you visit his home. Checka is Leona’s secret wingman. Your soft spot for the boy is something he takes advantage of, and lets Checka consume your attention during a tour of the palace. You meet his elder brother, who irritatingly pries for details about your relationship. Leona lets it go. Just this once, because he knows you feeling at home is more important in the long run. You share a room with him during your stay, and he made arrangements for small changes according to your tastes. You’re also gifted with a new wardrobe of traditional clothes for your stay, and given free reign of the area. Naturally you are guarded in secret, as per the King’s orders. His brother knows as well as Leona does that it is imperative that your stay goes well.

You will be touring landmarks and tourist spots within the continent as well. While Leona would much rather laze his free time away in his room (away from his family), he goes. Word spread that he was bringing home his partner. Thank the gossiping maids for that. Walking with you makes the rumors official, and is safer than having you walk alone with Checka and some royal guards. That would have arisen suspicion, and been troublesome. More troublesome than walking around and confirming to the public that you are not to be touched.

Ignoring the many remarks about how Leona is unusually active during his visit (thanks to you), his pride is high. You’ve thoroughly been slotted into his life, and are accepted. Any apprehensions about you denying him were snuffed out. The way you took to living with him so easily proves it. If you weren’t welcomed by his family? Well, it wouldn’t change anything. This scenario just makes what he’s about to do easier.

The first night you arrived, Farlan presented Leona with a Kingscholar family heirloom. A ring that has been in their family for generations. Not meant to be worn permanently, and only for proposals. Farlan used it to propose to his wife, and at the ceremony presented her with the ring he picked out. Now Leona will use it to propose to you.

One look at it and Leona declined. He’s spent his whole life chasing things that he couldn’t have because of his birth status. He would not yield this moment to tradition. Farlan was shocked, but rescinded the offer with a supportive smile. His brother had found himself, and the King was proud.

On the evening of your final night at the palace - Leona finds you alone on the balcony of your shared room. If he was going to do anything, it would be now. Initially he was 100% confident in getting your acceptance, but the longer he watches the less sure he becomes. Deep down there is rooted fear that he will once again become second choice, and that you’ll choose to return to your world over him. His hands are in his pockets, and one of them fists around the ring he prepared long ago.

Right when he moved to back out, you turned to come back inside. Your serene stature brightened at the sight of him, and he gained back some confidence. If you could only look at him that way forever…well, here goes nothing.

“What are you doing out there without a coat? It gets extremely cold in the Savannah during the night. Do you want to get sick? I won’t be the one taking care of you….” he sighs and crosses the open threshold.

The dipping temperature has your arm hair standing attentive. Leona clicks his tongue, shrugging off one of the outer wraps tied on his waist and covering your shoulders.

“Stubborn mule,” he chides but there’s a reserved affection in his tone, “I’m sure you could’ve pieced it together by this point, but this isn’t just some normal vacation.”

Leona ties the cloth into a secure knot across your collar, taking a moment to linger. His tail flicks with nerves against the sculpted railing. Tch. There are a million ways he could do this. Like an infinite checkmate, where the king could be taken by any available piece all at the same time. An impossible scenario in Chess, yet Leona’s all about breaking the mold. He pulls the ring from his pocket, pinching it between two fingers in front of your face. Your eyes cross to focus and he feels that familiar sensation of fulfillment.

“I brought you here to ask for your hand. What? You want me to say it so plainly? Ain’t the jewel enough?….hah, someone’s getting greedy for a little herbivore,” Leona smirks, taking your hand and sliding the ring over your finger. He kisses the band, fiery citrine holding your gaze all the while, “I’m here for your hand in marriage. Nothing less.”

{ 'Everything the light touches...is our kingdom' - A golden sunrise. Befitting. He used to hate them. Hate that phrase too. Yet you are the sun that Leona has been searching for. He continues to fight against fate in hopes that his efforts will bare fruit, and you are living proof that there is a chance. Maybe not easily. His life might not be what he originally dreamed. He may not get to sit on a throne of light . Yet there is a light in his life, and he likes to think that fate did not bring it to him. No, he found you all on his own.}

Ruggie Bucchi

'I don't see why you haven't proposed to that young darlin’ yet. Keep waiting and you'll miss your chance, boy'

Well, of all the things Ruggie expected to hear during his visit home, that wasn't one. Normally he'd be nagged over being away too long, or not writing home enough. This? It caught him off guard. Grandma was always sticking her nose where it didn't belong...but, maybe she had a point this time.

Your relationship. It's not something Ruggie has given much thought. It's uncharacteristic of him to get comfortable enough not to look a few steps ahead, but he's gone soft. A fact that he begrudgingly accepts with a grain of salt.

Naturally, he doesn't admit this out loud and instead changes the topic. On the outside, he acts normal and helps out around the house. However, internally he is thinking over his grandmother's prying.

Marriage. It's not necessarily 'beneficial,' to say the least. With only a few months left until graduation, he'll finally be entering the rat-race to secure himself a comfortable position for life. He's worked hard and developed connections to make it happen. The finish line is right there.

Where does that leave you? He can't necessarily be as flexible if he has a partner to worry about. It's a weak link, and might cause problems in his plans. The smart thing to do would be to break things off. After all, how many school romances get a happy ending? It's so unrealistic. He'll be busy with work, you'll have your own responsibilities, and eventually it will be like you are strangers with a title tying both of you together.

This reasoning alone is enough to settle the problem. It's just - he doesn't like it. It's the most realistic path and he hates it. If it was about finding a companion, then he could do it later in life.

But when he tries to picture that lifestyle with anyone other than you, it doesn't sit right. It's physically upsetting, and makes him nauseated.

Sleep evades him that night. Ruggie finds himself sitting in the kitchen doing homework, burning the midnight oil until he can think with a clear head. Naturally, his all-knowing grandmother finds him there and makes him spill his thoughts.

She's direct with her advice. It's rare for Ruggie to be stumped considering his quick-wit, and understanding emotions is a wisdom you gain with experience.

For someone like Ruggie, who's always maximized every outcome and thought ahead - you're a weakness. Something that he can't control, and yet exactly what he needs in life. We don't get to choose who we love in life. Love is unpredictable, and Ruggie's found it at a young age. Career opportunities come and go, but he will never get back the time spent at your side...so why not maximize that instead? Hm?

He leaves for NRC the following day. For the last time, considering it is his final year. On the way he stops at multiple markets and dips into his savings. With nothing but a ring and an idea, he ditches his stuff in his dorm and heads to Ramshackle.

He's not nervous. That left his system the night prior. His grandmother's tough advice hardened that up quick.

He knocks on the door, half expecting one of the resident ghosts to answer. Instead it's you, and he's down on one knee before you can speak. With one hand, he holds out the ring. The other itches his nose in attempt to hide his wobbly grin.

"Shishishishi~ I don't gotta explain what's going on, right? I'm sure you can put two-and-two together quickly. Are you really so surprised that you have nothing to say? Hmm, I guess that I can take the lead. You owe me! Pretty soon I'll be leaving this place. You still have another year here, and I can't promise I’ll be around much. Until now, I had no plan for us. Likely because being with you is the most natural thing I got outta this life. It’s always been about the short wins, y’know? Lookin’ out for number one. I've always aimed for a life of comfort, but now I want ya in that picture too. I can’t see it anyway else. So...when you graduate next year, will you marry me? I'll be patiently waiting, shishi~”

{Rose Quartz. The symbol of unconditional love and family. Something Ruggie hasn't experienced much in his life, and is grateful for. Ruggie did not want to choose a generic gem. Not for this. He may be known for cutting corners, but this is too important. He has done his fair share of trading, and knows exactly what to look for when shopping. No salesperson alive could convince him otherwise. You may not understand the meaning behind the gem, but that's alright. He doesn't mind, because this is the ring he'll see on your finger until you're both old and grey}

Jack Howl

Jack takes the longest out of all in his dorm. In result, his proposal is the most natural. Not to say that he does not put thought into it! Oh no, this poor lad hella overthinks the event. It's just getting him to the proposing stage is - well, anticlimactic?

All Jack requires is time. Once you've both settled in to your lives on an individual standpoint, with time comes thoughts of taking your relationship to the next level. As adults who have been together for years, it's only natural? At least for Jack. He has never been for or against getting married. So, there really is no internal battle for him to fight. He just? Lets himself be happy with the idea? I know, I know. It sounds too easy - but think about it. Jack is responsible, kind, and a bit like a golden retriever (or should I just say wolf?). He doesn't ignore his feelings. So if he feels that he want's to marry you, then why not? The worst that can happen is you say no.

There was no epiphany. No spark or overwhelming feeling of affection that made him want to marry you. No impending doom, nervousness, or special moment that he can pinpoint as 'the moment'. Nothing. You weren't even around.

He was merely finishing up morning jog and heading home. The thought casually entered his head, and he let it stay. Over time it reappeared over and over, until he felt that he'd heard it enough to act on it.

Jack is high-key observant and knows your likes and dislikes by heart. He feels that such an important moment is something he needs to think through deeply, and on his own. Many have been at the receiving end of his determination, and that doesn't exclude you. Once he's set his mind to something, there is no holding back. Over the course of weeks he proceeds to undergo self-reflection, and craft a proposal that he feels is perfect.

One question he spends time thinking about is 'where,' because Jack would prefer to do an intimate act like proposing somewhere private. The last thing he wants you to feel is pressure to accept, so he chooses to propose on a late night walk. This might arise suspicion since he isn't in workout gear, which is rare. Yet it's a price Jack is willing to pay. He's never been great with surprises anyways.

He tries to uphold some element of mystery though. Do not laugh, but he put the in a plastic bag and hid it inside the container for his protein powder. When times get tough, you have to get a little creative.

Right before your evening stroll, he says that he wants to make a shake (under the pretense that afterwards he'll work-out). In actuality, he takes an empty bottle and slips the ring inside.

While you're both walking, he shakes it around and 'complains' that nothing is coming out. With you completely unknowing, he opens the cap and feigns surprise. It makes you curious, and he hands over the bottle a bit too eagerly

It's light, you note instantly. A glance inside reveals the ring, and when you pull it out Jack stops walking. His face sets with determination despite the red hue overtaking his neck and ears.

“Will you marry me?? -- oh wait, that was too blunt, wasn't it? Hang on!” he takes a breath, and coughs into his fist, "So. I've been doing some thinking. We've been together for years now, and to me you've become irreplaceable. I don't know how else to describe how I feel, other than to say that you are the only person I want to spend my life with. I hope that you feel this way too…because there isn’t anyone else for me. Just you. It’s always been you.”

{He isn't a man of the arts. Jack has no eye for fancy jewels, or what's an appropriate design. He originally thought to have the shop keeper help him decide. Yet, that felt impersonal. So he perused many stores, and did his best to imagine your reaction to seeing each ring. Nothing caught his eye until this peridot. A simple cut with an eye-catching color. Sure, it's not what others would recommend but he liked it. Who would Jack be to deny his gut instinct?}

[awniie]

ㅤㅤㅤ⭑ their reaction to you wearing their clothes (gojo , namani , choso )

ʚ content: suggestive, fem!reader , underwear stealing (but reverse) , domestic wife? whiny choso, drabble , no actual smut, spanking? , gojo calls reader (greedy, whore, brat ) proof read to an extent ֺ ♡

ʚ note: I kinda love this one, was tempted to write a whole one-shot with gojo ⊹ ݁ ° ⋆ 

ㅤㅤㅤ⭑ namani - button up !

Nanami came home from a long day at work to you, cooking something aromatic in the kitchen, gowned in one of his button up shirts. His eyebrows pulled taunt as he took in the sight. You’d never wore any of his shirts before, probably because he was so precise with his clothing. “These are strictly for work” Nanami mani recalled informing you one lazy afternoon, as he hung up the identical shirts on the hangers in the walk-in closet you shared. But, what he failed to remember was that today was your big spring cleaning day, not corner was to be left unattended. So naturally, you worked your way into the closet and gotten into his excess of button-ups and did some ‘reorganizing.’

Your husband silently cursed himself for restricting your access to his wardrobe before. His brown narrow eyes lazily drifted over your figure. The shirt was oversized on you, barely hanging on to your shoulders. The buttons on the collar were unfastened, revealing your cleavage and the swell of your breasts. The slits on the hem exposing your upper-thighs covered in stretch marks. He was practically drooling. You were a pretty wrapped birthday present, practically begging to be delicately undone.

“Oh hi Ken’! How was work?” You chirp, looking up from the cutting board with a big smile, unaware of the way your husband ogled you and your body. He had only a little bit of his restraint left as he grunting out a half-hearted “fine” before he comes up behind you, your back up against his chest and heavy fingertips at your hips. He softly kisses your jaw and works down to your neck, taking advantage of his position to peer the collar of his shirt that was just soo loose on you. “Darling, what did I say about wearing my shirts?” He questioned crossly. He wasn’t really mad, he just like the way you let out those nervous giggles whenever you were caught doing something you were supposed to. “Oh, this?” you play clueless as he peppers open-mouthed kisses across your neck. “It’s just one of your old ones. It’s practically a rag.” you tell him, letting out a surprised gasp and his mouth moves to the your pulse, teasing it with his mouth. He let out a ‘tsk’ “No wife of mine will be wearing a rag.” He runs a hand underneath the warm linen, caressing your skin directly.

“Let me take them off you then.”

ㅤㅤㅤ⭑ choso - graphic tee !

You and your boyfriend choso share a closet and also a fashion sense, so naturally your happen to have mix-ups with your clothes. You’ve mixed some of his socks with yours, grabbing the other’s similar colored hoodie by accident. He’s even had one of your lacy panties on the back of his shirt, which you took off and showed him, getting a confused look and a furious blush in return. Any sort of clothing mishap, you guys have had it and today was no different. So when you accidentally put on one of his graphic tees early this morning, he didn’t think much of it.

He opened his mouth to tell you, but closed it as he watched you move in it. It was big on you, but he loved it. The way it slid off the shoulder, revealing the fact that you were not wearing a bra. How it only came down to about halfway down your thighs, so when you bent it over it would rise up and he could see the pink fabric of your panties. He couldn’t help himself, so he followed you around the apartment all day like a lost puppy, trying to sneak a look at all your parts. Of course, you eventually noticed and you thought it was the cutest. So you decided to put on a show for him. You purposely tried to grab at items high on the shelf, just so you could torture him when the shirt rose above your hips and shoved your midriff and ass. He’d try so hard not to be too obvious, but when you would suddenly turn around and catch him staring, he’d start blushing and grab whatever you were reaching for you, avoiding eye contact.

Eventually, he got desperate. When you were preoccupied, he came up from behind you, lifting up the back of the shirt without difficulty. You were taken aback and tried to turn around and face him, but he was pressed against you firmly. “Cho’! You’d better be careful with your shirt.” You warned him with faux innocence, but not before rubbing your backside against him. You loved him like this, all whiny and raspy voiced. He groaned at the stimulation of you pressing on him and swallowed hard. “Don’t care baby. Need you so badly.” He whined, grinding his crotch against the fat of your ass.

“You’ve been teasing me all day. J’s need to get my damn shirt off you.”

ㅤㅤㅤ⭑ satoru - boxers !

It was late in the morning as your boyfriend satoru was doing his morning routine. Teeth brushed? Check. Face washed? Check. He had laid out his clothes, ready to put them on when he realized his black boxers were missing. “Babe?” He called out from the bathroom. “Have you seen my boxers…they were literally right here.” You respnded with an eyebrow furrowed. “No, I haven’t? Maybe you thought you did. Just grab another pair.” You advise, moving on to the next thing. Your boyfriend isn’t stupid though , no matter what you might say. He swore he places his underwear along with the rest of his clothes but it was childish to keep discussing over it, so he simply got a new pair.

This mystery didn’t go away though, in fact it started occurring more and more often. His boxers were going missing. His drawer filled with the, started to get more and more empty, seemingly every wash day. What was worst was that every time he tried to inform of you this phenomenon, you’d brush it off. “You’re such a child ‘toru.” you’d tease him. “There probably scattered around the house somewhere, you never put your clothes away.” scoffing and shutting down the possibility of there being some kind of…boxer thief. He’d rolled his eyes and try to press on but you weren’t hearing it. So he would have to find the culprit himself. He checked the dryer, making sure nothing had disappeared inside. Nothing. Then he’d check the dirty clothes hamper and his side of the closet, just to double check. Nothing. Logically thinking, there was only two of you in the apartment. So logically, the only person who could be taking his boxer…could be you. When he’d bought it up, you shoved the thought back down. “No, gojo. I haven’t been taking your underwear. I don’t want to hear anymore about this. If you need some so bad, I’ll go to the store with you we can buy some more.” You’d told him, not looking up from your phone. He knows it was wrong but, he didn’t believe you 100%. So, if you didn’t want to admit it, he’ll just have to prove it for himself.

“Oh my gosh, toru what are you doing?!” You yelped, as your boyfriend literally pantsed you. He couldn’t care less about your squeals and squirming, as there right in front of him was his missing boxers. He brought a heavy hand down on your ass, watching it jiggle. “See babe, guess I was right.” He’d gloat, bounding your two wrists together with his hand, bending you over the kitchen counter. You felt your face warm in some sort of twisted mix of shame and arousal. “I’m sorry, they’re just so much more comfortable than my panties.” You confessed, letting out another yelp as he brought another slap to your ass. “Sneaky ass bitch. Thinking you can take my boxers and then lie about it. If you wanted to borrow some, ya’ should’ve just asked.” He scolded you, his own boner poking out of one of the only pairs of underwear he has left. He rubbed his cock against your clothed cunt, bringing out whines from you.”

“Since you like my damn boxers so much, I’ll fuck you with them still on.”

@awniie’s please don’t steal ! ㅤㅤㅤ⭑

[lovlidollie]

can i request something for crybaby!reader? i love her!!

imagine she finds a skirt in her closet that she bought like 2 years ago. she’s so exited to tell rafe about it and tries it on immediately. but she can’t fit it over her upper legs, let alone her butt. she tries but fails and the tears start welling up so fast! she’s crying about how she gained weight and can’t even fit a simple skirt anymore and rafe has to reassure her that he loves her and that she didn’t gain weight and he just has to hold her tight🎀

of course lovely ! thank u so much for sending through this req, i appreciate your love for crybaby!reader so much ! ended up being a little longer than i was expecting i hope it lives up to your expectations 😓 just wanted to preface this by saying that everyone is perfect the way they are, and that clothes are made to fit you, not for you to fit into <3

the second rafe opens up the door to the house he realises something is wrong. why? well, crybaby!reader wasn’t there waiting for him. it’s something she does, even when rafe tried convincing her that she didn’t have to (he took his words back the second she started crying). she’s an anxious little thing, doesn’t like being away from him especially when he’s out dealing with business. he rubs his face tiredly and starts walking up the stairs, frown growing on his face at the eery silence. “hey, you there, baby?”

she can’t even hear him over her own pitiful sobs. she’s been crying for the past hour, head smooshed into the pillows as she wallows in self-deprecation. wanting to keep herself distracted whilst rafe was gone, she had decided to go through her wardrobe. and there it was. tucked away at the very back, a pretty lace skirt. it was pink and frilly and her heart rose at the very sight of it. she couldn’t even remember the last time she’d worn it, that’s how long it’d been since she’d last seen it. it took her a while to convince herself to try it on, she didn’t want to be disappointed if it didn’t look good ‘n she wanted to look good for her rafey :( she doesn’t even get that chance because the waist of the skirt barely got to her mid-thigh before she heard a sharp rip. immediately she had started crying, big fat globs of tears falling down her pretty face as she realised that she must have gained weight and that the skirt’s seams had ripped because of it.

“hey— what’s wrong?” crying herself into such a stupor, she didn’t even realise rafe had come into her room. he keeps his voice low. sweet. he doesn’t want to scare her off by being a big meanie and demanding why she was crying :( she just whimpers into her pillow, shoulders shaking. rafe sighs, moving over next to her bundle of plushies on the bed. two of them had fallen to the floor (rumplestilskin and bingo; he’d learnt his lesson the last time he’d forgotten) and he’s sure if she was aware it would send her down another spiral. he places his hand over her back, gently rubbing up and down her spine. “c’mon baby, you gotta talk to me. need ‘ya to talk t’me ‘kay? can’t fix none of your problems if i don’t know what’s wrong.”

she wails and it’s like the whole dam breaks free. “f-found somethin’ cute ‘n i thought maybe y-you’d like it — b-b-but it doesn’t fit anymore.” she’s blubbering and her words are muffled but rafe gets the general idea. “gained weight, rafe! i-i gained weight and now the stupid skirt doesn’t fit anymore!”

he understands that this is a delicate situation but he can’t help the incredulous, “what are you even talking about?” slip out. rafe’s eyes are squinted and his brows are furrowed as he tries to understand what he thinks is an utterly stupid thing to be upset over.

she starts crying harder at that and rafe rolls his eyes. “not doin’ this while your mouth is full of pillow, baby. c’mon. up.” there’s resistance on her end and he understands then that he needs to take a different approach. he lowers his voice more, talks slower. “hey — hey sweetheart? can’ya get up f’me? f’daddy? wanna be good for him don’t’ya?”

rafe tries not to smirk when her head pops up without hesitation this time. he frowns when he can finally see the state of her, eyes puffy and red-rimmed, cheeks wet and nose snotty. he gathers her up and drapes her across his lap, fingers softly scratching her scalp. she takes a great heaving breath and sniffles quietly, lips naturally forming a pout. “there’s my girl, there we go.”

he grips her hip gently, rafe’s broad shoulders caging her in. “so jus’ — just lemme get this straight. you’re cryin’ ‘cause an old skirt doesn’t fit anymore?” he feels her tiny nod against his chest and he grunts quietly in response. “well, then there’s your answer, kid. you jus’ grew up.”

“n-no, it’s real obvious that — that i gained wei-”

“uh-uh. you listen when ‘m talkin’ to you.” rafe presses her cheeks together, forcing her to look at him. he tries to keep his tone gentle and airy, makes his expression as soft as he can. “no one cares if you did or didn’t. makes no difference to anyone else, makes no difference to me. y’know why?” he doesn’t wait for a response. “‘cause it doesn’t stop me from lovin’ you any less. weight gain or no, it doesn’t change daddy’s love f’you.”

rafe kisses her head and wipes away her tears. “my girl’s perfect. right? perfect as she is. she’s good.” the praise has her melting, turns her brain into goo and it’s like he’s flipped a switch in her to stop her crying. “g-good?” she stutters out, eyes glassy.

“yeah. good. daddy’s good girl, c’mere kid,” he pulls her into a tight embrace, her legs either side of his hips, with his arms squeezing her waist. he holds her there until her heart slows down, no longer panicked. rafe shakes his head against her neck, scoffing when he sees the hazy, floaty look on her face.

“jus’ gonna buy you more anyway. you got me. you got me ‘n ill get my girl whatever she needs. don’ need to be cryin’ over this stupid shit. we’ll go out tomorrow and find somethin’ even better f’you.”

[wordsinhaled]

Wild to me that photo-shoots like this exist and no one has yet written the AU where Charles has many outfits for Edwin to lose his mind over. But it’s about more than just the outfits, of course. It always is.

So... if I were to do it it'd be like this:

Charles’ history and childhood are the same, and he’s chock-full of confidence issues, anger, a profound need for validation. When he’s in front of a camera he can make that all disappear for a bit, and just be pretty.

But what is he worth when what he is isn’t pretty? When he’s full of spitting, incandescent rage so strong it scares him; when all he wants is to fight back against the people who hurt him?

He thinks it’s ugly how much he can’t stand his dad. How jagged he is inside. How much he wants to be loved and held safe. How deep he carries the shame for wanting to simply be admired, and for daring to think he could deserve it.

He learns his way around a cricket pitch because he has to. Because it’s the thing to do. The thing that’s going to get him the least hurt, at home and at school. But it’s not foolproof: He’s never quite one of the lads. Never quite the right sort of son, either.

Charles who saves up for ages for drapey, pretty things; lovely things; things that feel too nice and look too nice on him, and secrets them away because if his father or his friends find them he’ll be dead. Charles who finds a secondhand camera in a charity shop. Charles who takes secret photos in the middle of the night of himself wearing his secret clothes, photos in which he could maybe be the kind of person he wishes he could be all the time. Confident. Cool. Not just pretty but beautiful. Unbroken.

He stashes the photos even though it would be safer not to keep them at all. And maybe it should be enough just to know he took them. But some selfish and needy part of him wants the evidence, the physical proof. So he’s got this shoebox of photographs stashed under a loose floorboard in his dormitory room at St. Hilarion’s, and after he dies, he retrieves it before he and Edwin leave the school together forever.

He won’t let Edwin look inside the box, at first.

Charles doesn’t show up on film anymore, or in mirrors. He tries to keep it a secret from Edwin—that this might be the bit that hurts the worst about dying, the being invisible. But it’s harder to keep this a secret than other things about his past.

He doesn’t have to really actually say it. It’s the wistful glances that do him in, probably, the ones he fails to hide well enough. One day, with no preamble, Edwin presents him with a full-length mirror in an ornate frame. “We going somewhere, mate?” Charles asks. Edwin tells him no, this mirror is different. He’s enchanted it. “Look again, Charles,” he says gently. And Charles looks again, and realizes he can see himself.

And who the fuck is going to stop him choosing what he likes now, when he’s picking out his outfits for the afterlife? His cunt of a dad? The ignorant tossers who drowned him to death? Charles’d like to see any of them try.

It seems like it won’t be Edwin who stops him either—Edwin, who goes a little glazed round the eyes every time Charles draws up short to stare at a silk shirt in a highstreet window. Nah, Edwin Payne’s a bloody first-rate enabler of all of Charles’ base needs to feel worth it. Charles has got the best best mate in the world. He doesn’t say anything as Charles’ wardrobe slowly grows. Just smiles his little enigmatic smile, the one that's just for Charles with its tantalizing flash of teeth, and drags his gaze over Charles like he approves of Charles’ daring every time Charles wears something new.

So one day he shows Edwin the box. The photos. A month later Edwin brings him a vintage camera and a roll of spelled film. Offers to photograph him.

And Charles could cry. Could shake apart into tiny little pieces. He wants to be seen so fucking bad. By Edwin in specific. By Edwin, who wraps himself all up in tweed and pinstripes and flushes regularly at the sight of Charles’ collarbone. By prim and proper Edwin, who puts his hand on the small of Charles’ back and tells him to buy the silk shirt; that is why they get paid for taking on cases, isn’t it, after all? Port Townsend has changed him. Changed them both.

“We all have our pleasures,” Edwin says, and there’s that smile again, that raised eyebrow—and what does it mean? Charles wants to know Edwin’s pleasures. Wants to be one of them.

Can he be one of them?

There’s a tiny little thrift store in this little seaside town, crammed full of clothes Charles loves almost viscerally and just has to have - but he doesn’t try any of them on until they’re back home in London, in the familiar comfort of their cluttered, dimly-lit office. He digs the camera out of the bag of tricks backpack then, puts in the film; checks and rechecks that he’s put it in right.

One evening he sets the camera on the desk in front of Edwin, who is reading. Waits patiently for his attention to catch on it and for his curious eyes to lift to Charles’ face.

“Right,” Charles says. Past the lump of nerves in his throat and the phantom heat in his cheeks and the impending thrill of being looked at. “About those photographs. You asked if I’d...”

“Be amenable,” Edwin finishes for him, like he’s remembering their conversation precisely.

Charles wants to shrivel up. And he also wants to stand taller, prouder. Angle himself just right. Because Edwin’s watching him now, appraising, and the idea that he might like what he sees makes something unbearably good fizzle down Charles' spine. “Well, I'm. I'm a bit more than amenable, mate,” he says. His voice is a rasp in his throat.

“Are you indeed,” Edwin says evenly. He steeples his fingers. Like Charles is a case and he’s already solved him. Like Charles is one of his cherished first-edition detective magazines with a fraying binding and Edwin is going to fix him right up.

Maybe it'll be easy. Done in a flash. Or if not, maybe Edwin will be up for the challenge. Charles wants to find out which, more than he's ever wanted something in his entire short life and in his afterlife combined.

[capr1pengu1n]

if you've got to spend your time, oh won't you spend it with me?

Summary: After a long day, Edward finds a solace in your bed that he can only get from you

Warnings: gn reader (no use of y/n), just fluff, like one sex reference

Words: 1.1k

Notes: Just a small thing I wrote while I wasn't feeling too great.

Feeling sleep claw its way across your body, settling in your dreary mind, you trudge along to your empty bed with weighted shoulders. But something's missing, something's always missing as you climb under the covers, settling onto your mattress. The duvet is heavy and plush on your skin, but the empty space next to you, where the duvet settles upon the bed instead of enveloping the warm body of your lover, is starkly noticeable to you as your eyes adjust to the dark.

You don’t know where Edward is, you never really do. The worry used to drive you crazy, settling in the pit of your stomach as images would flash in your mind of him being captured and sent back to Arkham, or beaten bloody, or worse. But you knew you had to put your trust in him, in the intellect that he prides above all else, that he claims will always keep him out of too much trouble.

So alas, the worry dissipates but makes room for a different kind of feeling to wash over your conscious mind; longing. You missed the feeling of him beside you, holding you and pressing you tightly against his chest. While you’ve spent many nights pondering the morality of finding comfort in the arms of a criminal who’d caused so much pain and destruction, the selfish part of your personality had won out whenever you think about the heat of his body. The soft kisses reserved just for you, at night when nobody is around, when his walls crumble just enough to feel comfortable sharing the burden of his mind and aching joints.

The memories weren’t helping you get to sleep, so reluctantly you sit up and switch the lamp on. As light fills the room, you get an idea as your bleary eyes blink. You get up, heading to your wardrobe and finding what you were after, quickly grabbing it. His jacket, a shade of dark green, had been left by Edward when he’s last visited your apartment. You doubted he even noticed, with how many tailored suits he has, from muted shades of green to more garish and outlandish outfits that never fail to make you giggle. Bringing it to your nose, you can still smell the expensive cologne he wears, and it brings a slight flush to your cheeks as you press it close to your chest.

While he isn’t a particularly strong man, he nevertheless was broader than you in the shoulder department, coupled with his height meant that as you slipped your arms in the expensive fabric, it hung a little loose around your form. Either way, you’re more satisfied as your crawl back under the sheets, flicking your lamp off and getting comfortable. While it wasn’t the same as him really holding you, it was enough for now as the scent lulls your mind into a dazed and relaxed state.

Edward was tired. Exhausted even. He staggers out of the warehouse, cursing at the slight drops of blood that speckled his waistcoat. It’ll be the last time he utilises one of Penguin’s men for a while, the corpse of his informant now floating face down in the river. But hours of being hunched over laptops and city architectural plans had taken its toll, since heaving the larger man into the river meant his spine felt splintered and sore. He straightens up, cracking his back and groaning a little at the relief. As much as he hated to admit it, he knows how exhausted he is, how much his body is crying out for rest. He supposes the rest of his plan can be continued tomorrow, as he makes his way over to his car and turns on the ignition. Going home, that’s where he needs to go, that’s where he tells himself to go…but he knows he won’t.

He almost wishes this was the first time he’d driven on autopilot to your apartment, striding inside and unlocking your door. To admit otherwise would be reiterating the fact that he cares, that he’s come to crave your presence and your attention just as much as you do for him. That is a weakness he can’t bring himself to stomach, and he knows he should cut you out like an overgrown weed from his life. But Edward Nygma is a very selfish man. And the selfish aspects of his personality would never deprive himself of you. Everything about you, the warmth of your smile, the softness of your skin, the way your voice would sound as he brought you and himself to ecstasy over and over. He could never give that up, and as he walks into your room and starts to shrug his jacket and shirt from his shoulders, that idea cements.

Stripping to his underwear, he climbs in next to you, slinging an arm around you gently but pausing as he feels the fabric. In his haze he hadn’t actually observed your resting form, and as his eyes adjust to the dark, he sees you curled up, his suit jacket wrapped around you like a lover's caress, like his caress. He momentarily feels relief at the darkness that shrouds the room, so you can’t see the uncharacteristically soft smile that traces over his features. You’d sought comfort in his clothes, in something that reminded you of him when he wasn’t with you.

With a single finger, he traces some hair from your forehead and smirks. “If you’re attempting to pretend to be asleep, you’re doing an awful job.”

You laugh softly, going to turn to face him before he stops you by laying properly on his side, arms clutching you tight to his chest. The feeling makes your skin tingle, relaxing in his hold. “What time is it?”

“Late” he answers lowly, and you feel the tension in his muscles fade as his breathing slows.

“Good day?”

He pauses, and you expect to get the same nondescript or egotistical answer that of course it was, he’s the riddler. But instead he mutters, “No…not really.”

A little shocked at his answer, you debate whether to respond, but you figure he wouldn’t want to discuss it…not tonight at least. So you gently press a kiss to the part of his arm you can reach, before closing your eyes gently.

But Edward doesn’t close his eyes, now fully adjusted to the darkness. He presses his forehead against the back of your head gently, but not before taking a last lingering look at your form, so perfectly wrapped in his clothes. It’s hard for him to believe right now he has you in his arms, and how content he is at that fact. The old him would have scoffed, laughed even at how soft he’d become. The great Edward Nygma, reduced to such common feelings like affection and-

He stops himself from thinking of that last word. Not yet. But as he feels your chest rise and fall rhythmically, feeling you fall into blissful unconsciousness, he figures he won’t be able to push back the painful reality for long.

[eeeeuuughggg]

How do u feel abt Larry headcanons? I loved your sal hcs

larry johnson hcs

note: ok,, i'm so happy i'm starting to get asks ‼️

it's no secret that's he's a massive stoner. he smells kind of similar to sal except the weed smell is a LOT more potent and he probably uses axe body spray...

his first bong was probably a gatey. mainly uses blunts for when he's have a long smoke sesh - cus after all, they do take longer to burn and taste better cus they're a mix.

most dates r typically smoke sessions or he'd definitely take you to an abandoned place to tag your names or initials.

omg omg ok when he's high he DEFINITELY goes and raids the nearest 7/11. he always wants donuts and he will ravage that shit like it's the last donut on earth and he's fighting to have it😭

we all know he's a bit lanky, but he wins pretty much every fight he's in. he's kind of feral. he throws a mean ass punch bro

he has a loud ass stereo in his room and BLASTS music w it. like room shaking, ears ringing, eyes vibrating typa blasting...

he gets suspended sm. like, suspended so much it's a miracle that he hasn't been failed a year level due to his attendance.

none of the teachers really care too much about his smoking, they don't get paid enough to give a shit anyways.

i'm kind of conflicted trying to decide between whether he's an ass or tits man. regardless of gender, he loves all parts of ya regardless tbh.

oh my god, he totally watches midnight gospel when he's high. he's like "yeaaa man,, this shits deeeep"

he fucking loves piercings. no doubt. has an eyebrow piercing and a tongue piercing. was so sad when he found out he couldn't smoke for a bit until his tongue piercing healed. (he did it anyway and just used the antiseptic spray after his sessions)

he watches band documentaries like they're the most sacred thing on earth. has a whole youtube playlist for them with literally every band he likes. he's not a big fan on documentaries, obviously, but music ones are just different.

goes to kmart and prints out the worst pictures of his friends to glue into his locker and not so subtly point them out to his friends.

he collects cool looking lighters. mainly bic but he has a few zippo ones. he thinks the funky patterns are rad as fuck and just has a little container full of lighters under his bed.

he has like 7 half drunk water bottles on his nightstand and they grow by the day. nah they grow by the week, mans is obviously the most dehydrated fucker you'll ever meet.

majority of his wardrobe are dirty ass stained band shirts and baggy jeans. notable mentions are studded belts and crusty ass socks with combat boots and converse.

when it's winter, you will NOT see this man without a beanie. they're a must have. he jus gets a little chilly

if you gave him a friendship bracelet or something, he will NEVER EVER take that shit off. he treasures it like it gives him superpowers or some shit

he probably spits a little when he talks 😭

yuck it's still kind of short sorry but i do hope you enjoyed this, anon !! 🙏

[the-fandom-is-now-my-life]

Saw alotta dis so uhh.. Is aether an option by any chance?

The creator had:

Twin blonds

WC: 900~

I actually really like aether, I tend to characterize him as rather wholesome, at least in his traveler form.

I'm sure that traveler aether would be so much shier about his attraction that you would have to start any intimate interaction while abyss aether is more forward with his attraction.

“Thanks for the help traveler, without your help we wouldn't be able to hold the celebration” Aether is famously known across teyvat for how helpful he is, always so eager to take the load off of anyone's shoulders.

“let me give you a reward"

“Hm? Ningguang already gave me the reward” looks at you curiously, maybe there was a mistake while arranging this? After all, the commission was a last second thing.

“I know that, I meant a more personal reward, only if you wanted” finally noticing the innuendo he swallows hard, swiftly looking over at paimon to find her swallowing canapes and desserts but seemingly the time he spent thinking about it made you think it was a refusal “oh, well, nevermind, let's enjoy the party” you pass bye him towards the entrance but he stops you, a firm hand around your arm.

“I didn't mean it like I don't want, I just… Didn't expect it, I guess” seeing him so cute you can't help yourself and lean forward, your lips half open, an invitation that he soon takes.

A while later you both appear in the party, alibis pointing to each other being somewhere different.

“didnt expect you to come here so soon” as you open the door you see the prince standing in the middle of your room, an almost indistinguishable shape amongst the shadows.

“I would say the same. I would have expected you to stay in the party for a while longer, your grace”

Your hands signal a burgundy splatter on the top “drunkard's accidents. I came to clean myself” you walk the the wardrobe, pulling another tunic from there “I also saw a hydro mage in the garden from one of the second floor windows and guessed your would be here or arrive soon”

He sighs sitting down on your bed “I held some hope they would be more careful with this mission but seems I was wrong. I hoped I would be able to talk with you when you came after the party”

“almost everyone is drunk and I greeted everyone important, I can spare some minutes"

“I will make sure to use them wisely then”

“Won't you even tell me where your lover is from?” Nahida is sitting criss-cross playing stacking cubes with the blond children, a set of twins.

“I’m sorry but I won't” you see her shoulders slouch while she builds a block tower with the twins, almost disappointed.

“Could it be kaveh? They are blond like him” she pops up an idea, seeing how fixated the girl twin was with building the tallest column and how the boy was focus.

“Fine, will tell you he isn't from Sumeru” even if she seemed bummed out about it at least she sighed and stretched her legs.

“Well… technically his mom is fontanian now so maybe...”

“It's not kaveh.”

“Finee”

“Such energetic toddlers” Raiden watches from the top of the stairs, two eleven month olds trying to learn how to walk and repetitively failing and rising to try again.

“Yes, I had to get a nanny for each if them, whenever I left them in their playpen at least one would sneak out and start crawling around, I was worried they would try to go up the stairs and hurt themselves”

“Ah!” The boy yelps as he manages to stand up for a second but falls down after attempting his first step. Before he starts wailing his sister pats his back.

“ I will miss him” Nahida pouts, her eyes almost glassing over. The twins had reunited at last and left, not without giving all a hug, yours being particularly long and specially melancholic.

“You know” you say as you put your hand on her head, the archons standing alongside you “we will have something to remind us of him” she looks up at you curiously with her wet eyes.

“indeed, the changes they produced in our nations won't be easily forgotten and we will be able to remember him because of it”

“That might be true, zhongli, but I meant something else, something that will grow alongside us” nobody said a word, the meaning totally understood by all of them. Nahida hugs your leg and zhongli rests a hand on your shoulder blade.

“Prince did you manage to make the purest grace to agre with our plan and make the nations surrender?” a cryo mage speaks the next morning, rubbing his hands together.

“I didn't manage to cramp that in, when their grace wasn't present people started looking for them”

“I understand…” even if he wanted to doubt him what he did in that while he knew that wouldn't end nicely for him.

“Aetherrr”paimon whines over his shoulder, tugging the loose hairs behind his ears “we spent 20 minutes looking at toys”

“I want to give nice and thoughtful gifts to their grace's children” aether ignores her, still wondering if buying more furniture for their dollhouse or a Natlan sport ball. Both of them play doll house and football but which would be best?

“Just give them whatever, I doubt anyone would spend so much thinking about their gift. Just because they are twins and you are a twin doesn't mean you share any special link”

“yeah, you are right” it's not because of that reason that he is so focused but at least it works as a common excuse of seeing himself and his lost sister in them.

“Now will you hurry?”

“Haha, no”

[ohcoffeedragon]

I was about to give my own take on the album in the tags of @bisonaari's post but seeing the wall of text on my screen I decided to make it a separate post instead, and then I ended up making a graph.

I love how the album takes you on a ride and plants themes that keep evolving. It gets very dark at times, but you never lose that sense of forward motion.

Ready to Go is about getting your big chance, believing in yourself and going all in. It has an inspirational quality to it, but in the lyrics you already get a hint of the problems to come, and you already have two of the running themes: an inability to set boundaries + the impact of getting reduced to a one dimensional character, to the point where people want to see you fail for their entertainment.

Cha Cha Cha of course is about a lot of things, but in the context of the album the classic story beat here is the "point of no return". It's an emotional high: rising to the challenge, overcoming insecurities and difficulties, experiencing a triumph, but at the same time it's the point where normal life goes out the window. This is the point where you get the letter from Hogwarts or step through the wardrobe into a bizarro world.

Takavoltti marks the beginning of the downward spiral. K still has energy in abundance, we find the same attitude of going all in and pushing through difficulties that was first introduced in Ready to Go, but in Takavoltti the pushing just never stops. He is pushed further and further, and once again you can sense that the people pushing him don't really see him as a person. They just want to see how far he will go, it's all about the entertainment value.

Ruoska and Kot Kot go one step further. In Takavoltti K is already acting on command, he has no more agency of his own, but there is still an eagerness to surprise and please an audience. That eagerness is gone in the two following songs, it's all coping, reacting and surviving. Autiomaa is the darkest point but there is a fair amount of darkness in the other songs as well.

Around Autiomaa on both sides you have songs about coping. Kot Kot, Ruoska and Sex=Money, while being fun, are about coping strategies that come dangerously close to self harm (drinking, leaning into the pain/getting hurt but still asking for more, giving people what they want because you can't feel anything so you might as well).

Sex=Money marks an evolution because he is trying to reclaim the narrative and take his own decisions, but he is still lost in the numbness and doesn't really know which way to go.

It's only with Bananas, HHH and ICIP that we are finally emerging into a different mindset. The problems are still there but he is learning to roll with the punches. The numbness is gone and he is able to enjoy the moment again. Feelings of joy and love shine through even when things are frantic and full of uncertainty.

Then we have People's champion as the perfect ending, looking back at the roller coaster, stopping to take it all in, appreciating what a journey it's been, being grateful for it all and letting the positive feelings take over.

I find this album insanely well made. It's heartbreaking and uplifting at the same time, while simultaneously being pure fun, never missing a beat.

And I'm still at a loss about how the HS critic was unable to see this. How could he possibly not see the coherence of a narrative that follows the beats of a traditional story arc?

[imagines--galore]

hiii, can you do #5 with peter pensive and fluff? thank you!!

Summary: Despite the horrors you had face as children, it was a miracle that you and Peter had found one another at such a young age and had continued to cling to one another through it all. But as you grow older, new challenges are sure to come. And fighting a war in another world puts your love for Peter, and his love for you, to the test. Pairing: Peter Pevensie x Reader Rating || Genres || Warnings: T. Romance. Hurt/Comfort. A/N: Love me some insecurities. They're easy to get rid of in prompts and fics : P Anywho! I hope you enjoy!

For as long as you could remember it had always been you and Peter. Peter and you. Neither of you were without the other for long. And given how your fathers were friends, it didn't take long for them to begin joking around that perhaps you both would marry when you grew up.

And while the concept of marriage was something neither of you could grasp given how young you were, it seemed you and Peter both understood that the bond the two of you had was deeper.

Much deeper then that shared between two friends.

Even at such a young age.

And so over the years, nothing could separate you.

Not when you both went to different boarding schools. Not when you moved a few blocks away from his house. Not when your fathers went away to fight. Not when the bombings began. Not when you were sent to the countryside and far away from each other.

Not even when he returned with a new light in his eyes and tales of a land called Narnia.

Tales of another world in a wardrobe. Tales of talking animals, a witch and magic, Aslan the lion and Peter being king.

And though you did not understand most of it, you believed him. Peter had never lied to you before, why would he start to do so now. And there was something different about him. Then again there was something different about all of them. While it was the war that had effected you so much, for the Pevensie siblings it was the entire life they had lived in Narnia.

And while a small part inside you wished you could see this majestic world for yourself, it was not to be. Besides the war had ended and you would all be going back to school soon.

However, what you had not been expecting, was to be whisked away to the very place Peter and his siblings had told you about.

You had stood in utter awe and disbelief as you stared at the area where the train had been a few moments ago.

While Susan, Edmund and Lucy had rushed to play into the ever-blue water of the sea you stayed where you were, frozen. Peter had taken your hand and, smiling, had led you down the beach and into the water.

And though you did not understand your purpose in this strange new world, you did what you had always done best.

You stood by Peter.

You stood by him when he and his siblings realized what had happened when they had suddenly disappeared. How Narnia had fallen. And was at war again. There was another who would be king instead of Peter.

You saw how it effected Peter and it broke your heart.

Though it had never been said, you knew your heart belonged to him since you were children. And though Peter had reciprocated those feelings, since his first trip to Narnia, he had been pulling back from you.

As if there was an invisible wall between the both of you.

Though now, that you were in Narnia with him, you hoped it would bring you two closer.

However it was the exact opposite. He was obsessed with the idea of taking charge once more. Of bringing back the old Narnia. Of showing that he was still King.

Despite there already being a potential candidate in Prince Caspian.

And of course, when he was not able to meet his own expectations who did he lash out on?

You.

You were just there. You were only trying to help.

To talk to him after the failed attempt to storm the palace and take out Miraz. After he had snapped at Caspian you had walked after Peter, trying to talk to him. To ease his mind.

But then he had snapped at you.

"I don't need your help Y/n. I never needed you. Not here. Not back home. So stop it! Stop following after me and just leave. You don't belong here!"

Your insides had turned to ice. He had walked away without a second glance, leaving you to drop to your knees.

Thankfully Susan was there to catch you. But that was all she could do. She had to tend to other matters, such as the almost return of Jadis the White Witch. And during the confusion that followed, you had slipped out of Aslan's How and into the forest.

You were not needed here in Narnia.

Peter didn't need you.

No one did.

Tears blurred your vision and you stumbled through the trees as you fell to the ground. For awhile you didn't move, sobbing your heart out in your arms and allowing yourself to feel. It was a good while later, when your tears had dried that you finally turned on your back. But you didn't get up and simply laid there staring up at the trees. You didn't know how long you laid there, what you did know was that someone or something had come to rest beside you.

Your head turned to see a majestic yet terrifying figure of a lion sitting beside you.

"Aslan?" You whispered in disbelief, sitting up as you stared at the Lion. He chuckled deep and low. "I take it your friends told you all about me." Still a little shocked you gave a small nod. "Lucy did. And......Peter." The thought of him had your heart giving a painful twinge in your chest as you furiously brushed away the tears.

"Why do you cry dear one?" He asked, in a voice so gentle and kind that you burst into tears all over again. And you couldn't help it, couldn't help yourself as you threw your arms against his soft mane and told him the whole story.

Once you were bereft of tears, and your heart was considerably lighter, you pulled away from Aslan, only to avert your gaze, feeling a little ashamed of your outburst.

"There is no need to feel ashamed of letting out your emotions dear one." He comforted you once more. "We must all do so lest we allow them to fester inside and become something sinister." You nodded, wiping the tear stains from your cheeks.

"Yes, you're right. But what shall I do now? I am not needed here." You whispered, once again feeling all the more lost. Aslan chuckled. "I would not have called you here if I didn't think you were needed Y/n." His words caused you to look up at him in surprise. You were just about to voice it too when you heard your name being called out.

Instantly you tensed. It was Peter.

He was calling your name in the distant as he looked for you.

But you didn't want to go to him.

Not when he had hurt you so much.

"He shall not find you unless you wish to be found." Once again Aslan reassured you to which you gave him a small smile in thanks. You continued to listen to Peter, calling your name and apologizing as he cut through the brush.

Finally, he appeared in the clearing that you occupied with Aslan. He couldn't see either of you, but you could see him.

You watched as he gazed around in despair before shouting your name once more. Receiving no response, Peter seemed to loose whatever hope he had left and dropped to his knees.

"Y/n. Please come back! I'm sorry! I'm sorry I was so horrible to you! You didn't deserve it. You were just trying to help." The words were spoken in a low voice, but were loud enough for you to hear.

Despite your anger and sadness, you glanced in Aslan's direction. He gave you an encouraging nod to which you heaved a sigh and stood.

Peter had his face buried in his hands, so he didn't hear you approach. Reaching out you placed a hand on his shoulder. He instantly looked up. Where his eyes had been full of despair, they were replaced with utter joy at the sight of you.

He cried out your name, before embracing you so tight you could hardly breath. You barely returned the gesture and he felt it. A sadness overtook his happiness and he pulled back.

"I hurt you? Didn't I?"

You gave a silent nod.

"I'm sorry." He gazed at you with pleading eyes. You gave him another silent nod before walking past him to return to Aslan's How.

You had accepted his apology, but it would take some time for you to forgive him completely.

                                         ————————–

Over the years since you had known Peter you had exchanged a few kisses here and there.

There was that first time when you were just children and had been curious about what a kiss was. So you had closed your eyes, and bumped your lips against his.

It was awkward and childish, but you both discovered it wasn't all that bad.

The second time you had kissed was just before you had been separated by the war. The night before you got on your respective trains to the countryside, you and Peter had met under your bedroom window. He had come to say goodbye and you had clung to him, afraid that this would be the last time you would see him. There was no telling if even the countryside would remain safe from the armies.

That night was the first time you told him you loved him.

And he had returned the sentiment before kissing you.

You had kissed him back, before reluctantly watching him go.

The third time you had kissed was when the both of you met once again. It had been full of joy and sheer happiness. And since there was an audience nearby it had been short and sweet.

You had though that perhaps what had always simmered under the surface between you and Peter would come to the forefront since your reunion. But that dream was shattered when he had begun to pull back from you. Those fleeting moments took a backseat as you fought to stay in Peter's life without overstepping. A herculean task since Peter had been rather quick to anger the past few months.

Of course all your hard work vanished in that one moment of despair when Peter had yelled at you. You understood he was under a lot of pressure, but you had only been trying to help. And given the danger everyone was in, it would seem whatever involved you and Peter would have to wait until the war was over.

Or so you thought.

Your heart was in your throat as you raced through the How. It was a good thing your feet knew where you were supposed to go, because the way your mind was stuck on the conversation you had just had with Lucy, it was a miracle you even reached your destination.

Peter.

Miraz.

Single-combat.

Bursting through the door of the room Peter was sharing with Edmund you skidded to a halt. Chest heaving, hair in utter disarray and an almost wild look in your eyes you very nearly screamed at your best friend.

"Have you lost your senses completely?"

Both Peter and Edmund looked up from where they had been suiting up for the battle ahead. Edmund pursed his lips, glancing in his brother's direction before picking up his sword and quickly walked out of the room. You barely noticed as he walked past, hardly looked away from Peter as the door shut behind him leaving the both of you alone.

Peter inhaled deeply before exhaling softly. "It is the only way to ensure as little bloodshed as possible." He stated, pulling at the straps of his gauntlets to make sure they were as tight as they could be. "Everyone wants this war to be over and this is the quickest way to-" But you cut him off.

"I don't care about that! What I care about is that my best friend has offered to fight a man, twice his age and twice as experienced, in single combat." You felt the sting of tears behind your eyes but you blinked them away. Peter raised an eyebrow at you. "I can assure you Y/n, I'm just as experienced as him, if not more." Standing up he smiled softly at you. "You should have faith in my abilities."

You shook your head. "I'm not doubting your abilities Peter. Its just....." You trailed off, your gaze locking with his. It was then that you realized that he was just as afraid of what lay ahead. Just as you were.

There was a beat of silence where neither of you moved or spoke. The distance of a few feet between you seemed to stretch on as you tried your best to not let your mind wander to the worst possible scenario.

One that had Peter loosing and being kil-

"I don't want you to die."

The words were barely above a whisper, and yet they seemed to echo all around the both of you. Peter's expression shifted to a soft look, one that he reserved for his youngest sister and you. "It won't come to that-" He tried to reassure you but you quickly shook your head as you stepped forward to grasp his hand between both of your own.

"No, Peter. You have to promise me. Promise me you won't die." Your voice was desperate, your eyes filled with a despair that should never be seen in the eyes of a child. Because that was what you were, what you both were.

Children, fighting in a war that wasn't even yours. And yet both of you wanted to help those in danger. Help them get their home back.

"I ca-I can't loose you Peter. Please. Please say you won't die." Your words were beginning to merge together, your voice sounding breathless as you struggled to convey the depth of your fear to him. To show him just how much you meant to him.

And it was a testament to your being friends for years that Peter was able to understand you completely and was able to determine what was it you needed in that moment to calm you down.

You were still whispering nonsensically as his head leaned down to close whatever distance was left between you. But the moment his lips brushed against your own, you fell silent. Your tears stilled, your eyes fluttered shut and you returned the kiss just as fiercely as it was given.

Fourth.

This was your fourth kiss. And you hoped and prayed with all your heart that it would be not your last.

Your hands were still clasping one of his between your bodies. His other hand came to rest against your cheek, brushing the soft skin with his thumb. Chaste and innocent though it was, there was no denying the passion and sheer devotion that was evident in the way he gazed at you when he pulled back. Your own eyes shone with love for the boy in front of you. Sighing softly, you lifted one hand to gently run your fingers through his hair, pushing some of the loose strands back so they wouldn't get in his eyes.

"I always thought it was a blessing that we were both so young when the war started back home." You spoke softly. "Because I knew that you would enlist and I would have to say goodbye to you." You knew how much he had wanted to enlist, how much he hated not being of age. And while you had been a good friend and reassured him, secretly you had been glad because them being young meant that you both were safe. As much as you could be.

A small laugh fell from your lips, as your fingers slowly stroked along his face, mesmerized by the color of his eyes as Peter all but leaned into your affection. "Yet here were are, in another world, and I'm doing the exact thing I was so afraid of doing back in England." He shook his head, leaning forward to press his forehead against yours, noses brushing as he did.

"This isn't a goodbye Y/n." He whispered gently, hoping to ease your worry. "You will be right there with me, and knowing that will give me the strength I need to defeat Miraz."

He continued. "I know everyone thinks we're to young for it, but I do love you Y/n, and I wan-" "I love you too." He stopped talking at your confession, prompting you to smile. "I know we've already told each other that, but I guess this is sort of like a promise we're making."

A determined gleam came over your eyes as you looked at him. "To survive this war together, and have our own happily ever after."

He chuckled at your choice of words. "Just like in those fairy tales you love so much."

"Well fairy tales usually have a prince, a princess, a villain and strange creatures don't they?" You countered, prompting him to grin.

"Well we have a villain, and we do have many many strange creatures, centaurs, fauns, dwarves, talking animals." He hummed in thought. "Which leaves us with the prince and princess."

You shrugged. "Well we have a King." You gestured towards him and he nodded. "True, but a King is nothing without his Queen." He watched with a grin on his face as a blush stole across your cheeks, and you finally looked away from him. Clearing your throat you swallowed. "Well I'm sure you had plenty of options when you were here last."

Though you knew what he had meant to say, you still couldn't help but tease him. It was just how things were between the two of you. He nodded. "I did, but I never gave it much thought. Because I never forgot you."

Sighing you shook your head at his attempt to win you over further, which you had to admit was happening. Your arms came up to wrap around his shoulders as you settled your head in the crook of his neck. Peter returned the embrace, burying his nose in your hair and basking in your presence.

Neither of you were ready to let go, and you didn't for a long time. A soft knock and Edmund calling out to the both of you was what finally broke the spell and you stepped away from each other. Though not completely. Reaching behind Peter, you picked up his helmet, the last of his armor piece and place it on his head.

There were no tears in your eyes now, only sheer determination as you fixed him with a look. "Come back to me."

He raised your hand to his lips, brushing them against your knuckles. "I promise."

Hand in hand, you both stepped out of the room ready to face whatever challenge lay before you.

Together.

[sweetbutpsychobutsweet]

Care To Make A Wager?

Chapter 5

Thorin Oakenshield x AFAB!Reader

Summary: There's only one bathing pool and all of the pent up tension between you and Thorin finally starts to come to a head in the form of a bet

Warnings: smut, 18+, NSFW, Minors do not interact, angst, fingering, spanking, light choking, biting

author's note: Ahhhh! I'm so excited to finally share this chapter with you guys!!!!!! There will be plenty more spiciness to come between these two, and that is a promise, dear reader😉

Word count: 3686

To say you were in need of a bath would be a massive understatement. After spending so long on the road you felt as though you were covered in a permanent layer of dirt and dust. Your boots were caked with mud and your hair seemed to be harboring an entire forest of leaves and twigs. 

When Lord Elrond offered you rooms to wash up before dinner, you were all too happy to accept. You had spent so much time in Rivendell over the years that you knew exactly how to get to your regular guest suite. 

The wardrobe was still full of fine gowns and shoes in your exact size. The well-worn books you had failed to return to the great library still sat undisturbed in a pile next to the bed. It took a great amount of restraint to keep yourself from running your fingers along all of the familiar elven luxurious. Not until you had scrubbed all of the dirt and grime from your skin. 

There is a large bathing pool right outside your room that you are all too eager to step foot in. It is always filled with warm, flowing water, and the ceiling above remains open to reveal the sky overhead. You grab yourself a clean towel and practically skip through the adjoining door.

Only to stop short when you see someone else has already beaten you to it. 

“No!” you shout in frustration and Thorin turns to see you pouting angrily at him from the doorway. 

He chuckles at your frustration from where he already stands in the warm waters up to his chest. You take extra care to direct your glare right at his face, refusing to let your gaze wander down to all the exposed skin.

“Sorry lass, not fast enough this time,” 

“Thorin,” you growl, “do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting to visit this pool again?” he just shrugs at you. “There's another one down the hall I’ve been told, if you hurry you might still be able to beat the others to it.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” you snap before letting out a sigh.

“I can’t use that one,” you mumble, “it’s too…deep.”

Thorin stares at you in confusion for only a moment before barking out a laugh.

“Are you saying,” he chuckles, “that after all these years you still haven’t learned how to swim?”

You growl at him before turning around to march back to your room. 

“Wait!” he calls after you, still laughing. “I’m sorry, lass. We can share if you’d like? There’s plenty of room.”

You turn back to look at him suspiciously. He’s right, it’s a very large pool you could easily fit several people at once. The problem is that sharing it would mean taking your clothes off in his presence. It’s one thing for him to be naked, while you stand there fully clothed. But the depth of the water prevents you from seeing anything below his chest and you have a lot more…parts, that require coverage. 

It’s not that you feel insecure about your body, especially with all of the low-coverage outfits you’ve worn while performing. It's just that the idea of Thorin seeing you in that capacity feels… different. 

“I won’t look,” Thorin promises, seeing your internal debate.

The water looks so refreshing and warm,  you can’t help but think it would be worth the risk.

“Fine,” you relent, tossing your towel nearby and toeing off your boots. “But if I catch you peeking you’re walking out of that pool with fewer parts than you had going in.” He turns around slowly to face the wall when you reach up to undo the laces of your trousers, shimmying them down your legs before letting them fall into a muddy pile with your blouse not far behind.

You cautiously dip one foot into the water, slowly lowering your body all the way in and  a contented sigh escapes past your lips before you can stop it. 

The water comes up to your shoulders, and you try to rearrange your hair as best as you can so it covers your breasts.

“Alright,” you tell him, and he cautiously turns to face you again. 

His gaze slowly trails down every inch of exposed skin, lingering just a moment longer on the ends of your carefully placed hair.

Thorin takes a cautious step closer towards you and your breath catches in your chest. He slowly moves closer and closer to you until he’s standing right before you. If you were to drop your gaze, it would be safe to assume that you could see all the way down his torso, perhaps even further… which is exactly why you keep your chin held high and your eyes locked on his. 

He lifts one hand up out of the water and lifts it up reaching towards your chest ever so slowly. Your eyes widen and you temporarily forget how to breathe in anticipation as his hand finally makes contact… with the bar of soap beside you.

He takes a few steps back with that self-righteous smirk on his face as he starts to run the soap between his hands.

“Is something the matter?” he asks you tauntingly, “one might say you look… disappointed.”

You let out a growl and angrily splash water in his direction but he just laughs at your irritation.

You turn around to dunk your head underwater, wetting your hair enough to start lathering in one of the fragrant shampoos sitting by the side of the pool. 

With the product now in your hair, all of the dirt and debris finally starts to untangle itself from your head. All except for one particularly stubborn twig that seems to have knotted itself around several strands of your hair in one of the most inconvenient and unreachable places on your head. You yank and pull at it blindly but no matter how hard you try it only seems to make it worse. You could try adding more products but it would be pointless.

“Could you help me please?” you ask with a frustrated sigh. Thorin hums in confirmation behind you and you feel the heat radiating off him as he wordlessly approaches you from behind. 

You let your arms fall back to your sides in the water as his strong hands come up behind you to take their place. He delicately starts untangling it one strand at a time. Moving gently to try and avoid causing you any pain. You can’t remember the last time someone’s played with your hair like this, and the sensation causes your eyelids to flutter closed and your shoulders to droop in relaxation as you sink slightly deeper into the water.

“I could teach you if you’d like,” he says quietly, “to swim I mean. It’s an important skill it just might save your life one day.”

“Sure it is,” you reply sarcastically, “you just want an excuse to grope me underwater,”

His fingers still for a moment, “It doesn’t have to be underwater, but if you’re offering…”

You tip your head back to look at him with your eyes narrowed, pretending to give it some thought.

“Hmm, I’m afraid I’ll have to decline your generous offer my king.” you reply formally, “I have very high standards for all my lovers, I only share my bed with those who can give pleasure just as well as they receive it.”

You’re only half joking to get under his skin, but Thorin doesn’t seem to take it that way. 

His grip on your hair gently tightens, and he leans down to bring his lips beside your ear.

“Are you implying that I’m incapable of bringing a woman to climax?” he whispers darkly.

Shivers run up your spine and a hot clenching sensation forms in your belly. You shrug your shoulders nonchalantly.

“Care to make a wager on that?” he challenges.

“Very funny,” you smirk nervously, trying to dig yourself out of the hole you’ve quickly gotten yourself in.

“I’m not laughing,” he replies darkly, one of his hands leaves your hair to trace a slow, agonizing path down the side of your neck, before landing on your shoulder.

“I bet I could make you come, right here, right now, using only my fingers.”

You gasp at the filthy images that start to fill your mind and you’re forced to squeeze your thighs together to help relieve some of the ache.

“How about we make a deal,” he drags his other hand along your spine causing your back to arch in ecstasy. “If I can make you come, you have to let me teach you how to swim.”

You laugh at his request, before thinking of a condition of your own.

“And when you can't, you have to let Lord Elrond look at the map.” his hand stills on your back and you half expect him to refuse.

But he doesn’t. Instead, he brings both hands down to your hips and roughly pulls your back up against his chest. “Deal,” he whispers before playfully nipping at your earlobe.

One arm snakes around your belly to anchor you closer to him, while the other reaches up to grab one of your breasts. You moan as his hand squeezes and massages the soft flesh. 

He growls into your ear and thrusts his hips deeper into your backside, making it all too clear to you just how his body is reacting to yours.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?’ he asks, his hand on your breast starting to trace slow circles around your now hardened nipple. You bite your bottom lip trying your hardest to suppress the sounds of pleasure his ministrations threaten to pull from you. 

“Do you know how many times, I’ve had to find some excuse to slip away, just so I could touch myself to thoughts of you in those damn trousers? It’s all I can think about.”

A wicked grin crosses your face. It brings you great satisfaction to know just how much of an effect you have on him. 

“Tell me,” he whispers from behind you, his free arm moving down the curve of your ass to give it a rough squeeze. “When you touch yourself, what do you think of?”

His hand slides around your hip to slowly inch closer and closer down toward your core. You arch your back to encourage him to keep moving his hand closer, but he stops right above the spot where he knows you need him the most. 

You let out a whine as he stubbornly keeps his hand frozen in place.

“I asked you a question,” he reminds you, “who do you think of?”

You tip your head back to rest against his chest, your eyes meeting his. You smirk at the dark lust you see in his eyes, swimming with desire for you. You think about lying to him, giving an answer that you know will make him angry, unhinged. But you don’t want to risk him moving that hand any farther away from your core.

“You, Thorin,” you whisper to him, “always you.”

He roughly brings his lips down to yours in a fierce kiss, and at the same time, he slides his fingers down the rest of the way to trace large circles around your core.  His hand at your breast reaches up to wrap around your throat, applying gentle pressure to keep you in place as he gives his tongue the freedom to explore your mouth.

You let out a moan before you can stop yourself, and you can feel the smirk on his face without even having to open your eyes. His teeth scrape against your bottom lip as his fingers start to tease circles around your entrance, one finger tracing the outside before pulling further away again.

You whine at his teasing and thrust your hips up to try and bring the entrance closer to his fingers. 

He abruptly pulls his hand away when he realizes what you’re doing to roughly grab you by the hip, the hand around your throat tightening the smallest amount in warning.

“Uh, uh, uh,” he chides in your ear. “Behave yourself.”

He removes his hand from your throat and presses it between your shoulder blades, gently bending you over in front of him. He keeps a gentle hand on your hip and brushes all of your hair to one side of your neck, exposing your entire back to him. 

Your hands reach up to grip the edge of the pool with a gasp as he starts to kiss his way down your spine slowly. 

“Can you do that for me?” Thorin asks, “Can you be good?”

You nod eagerly as his lips hover over the curve of your backside that remains above the water.

You jolt in surprise as a hand comes down to your ass with a sharp smack. 

“Use your words,” he demands, gently rubbing the now tender skin of your cheeks.

“I’ll be good,” you whisper hoarsely, “I promise.”

Thorin hums in approval as one hand slides down your bottom to tease the entrance to your core once again. His other reaches up to grab a fistful of your hair. With a gentle tug, he is pulling your head back to look at him.

The hand at your core leaves you briefly empty and wanting. He keeps his eyes locked on yours as two of his thick fingers push into your mouth. You can already taste the sweetness of yourself on him as he presses them deeper into your mouth. Your tongue licking and sucking every drop of yourself from them. 

You let yourself put on a little show for him, imagining it wasn’t just his fingers in your mouth. Your eyes flutter closed at the idea of what it would taste like, what it would feel like to have that beast currently pressing against your thighs deep inside of you.

“Eyes open,” Thorin warns with a sharp tug of your hair.

He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, leaving you such a disoriented drooling mess that you don’t even notice where he’s relocated those fingers until they’re plunging deep inside you.

Thorin releases the hand in your hair to cover your mouth just barely fast enough to muffle the scream of pleasure you can no longer contain. 

You push your hips back onto his fingers, signaling for him to start moving and he is oh so happy to oblige. He does not start slow, his brutal pace has you arching your back and crying into his hand at how quickly you can already feel your climax approaching. 

That fire in your body is growing hotter and hotter and yet you still need more.

You desperately reach back behind you, blindly searching for his cock in an attempt to give yourself some kind of anchor in the storm of pleasure. As if sensing your intentions already he growls your name in a low warning, giving his fingers an extra deep thrust to catch you off guard. 

You gasp into his hand, your fingertips just barely grazing the tip.

“That wasn’t part of the deal,” Thorin reminds you.

Shit. you think to yourself. The deal.

You were so confident that all of his talk would not be able to translate to the bedroom, that the only reason his fingers were deep inside your throbbing pussy right now was as part of a childish bet.

A deal to finally find the answers hidden in that map, to help you enter Erebor, and most importantly to knock his ego down more than a few notches.

If you let yourself come on his fingers like this he wins. You’ll have lost the wager, and he’ll be able to lord this victory over you for years to come.

You can’t let him win, you just can’t.

You bite down hard on the rough hand covering your mouth to try and distract both of you from your current task but it still isn’t enough to slow his pace. His eyes narrow at you from above, a wicked grin spreading across his face, seeming to relish the pain.

You growl in frustration, desperate to think of some way, any way to put a stop to the rising flame in your core.

You try thinking of the most unsexy things imaginable: Orcs, rotten fruit, trolls, too-tight corsets, chamber pots. 

But no matter what you try the only thought you seem to be able to hold on to is Thorin.

Thorin who has his fingers inside you.

Thorin whose enormous cock is still pressed up against you.

Thorin whose beard keeps tickling your bare back.

Thorin whose blue eyes look like the hottest part of a burning flame.

Thorin whose deep voice sends shivers down your spine.

Thorin who left you.

Who abandoned you, lied to you, broke your heart.

A hot angry tear slides down your cheek and you bite harder into his palm, enough to feel droplets of blood start to roll down your chin and mix with the salt of your tears. 

You hate him. He betrayed you, broke your trust, and left you all alone. And he has the audacity to still make you feel things for him? After everything?

Perhaps after everything, he owes you this much. A mind-blowing orgasm, deal be damned. You’ll convince him to share the map some other way.

You’re feeling a pleasure so intense, so intoxicating, that when his fingers finally hit that one perfect spot inside you, you let yourself come undone on him. You’re too high on your own bliss to even care that you’ve lost the bet.

You wait for Thorin to start gloating, to rub it in your face that you were wrong. But he doesn’t.

He just slowly removes his fingers from your core and his bloody palm from your face and quietly disappears behind you in the water. Your head suddenly feels impossibly heavy and you let yourself slump over the edge of the pool, exhausted and trembling.

Thorin reappears behind you with a gentle hand on your back, while the other brings a warm cloth against your skin. 

He gently turns you to face him and you’re too tired to put up a fight. A strong arm wraps around your back to hold you upright against him. He brings the warm cloth to your face, gently wiping the mess off your chin and your lips, before trailing it farther and farther down washing every inch of exposed skin with an intense focus. 

It’s getting harder and harder to keep your eyes open. Sensing your fatigue he drops the cloth as soon as he’s done and starts to slowly lead you out of the pool. 

“Wait here,” he whispers as soon as you’re out of the warm water’s embrace, cold and shivering. You cross your arms over your chest to try and warm yourself before a soft towel is gently wrapped around your body. You attempt to take one, shaky step back towards your room and are immediately swept off of your fawn like legs into Thorin’s arms. 

He carries you back into your suite, the both of you undoubtedly dripping water across the marble floor as he gently places you on the bed.

You’re almost disappointed to see that he now has a towel covering his bare waist.

You expect him to leave you now if he has no interest in gloating, but instead, he crawls onto the bed with you. His body heat is such a welcome feeling that you don’t protest when he settles in right behind you wrapping a strong arm across your wet skin and pulling you in closer towards him by your waist. 

“You were trying to fight it weren’t you?” 

You shiver at the sensation of his breath tickling the back of your neck.

“How could you tell?” you ask him.

He chuckles against your ear before giving it a playful bite. 

“You always have this look on your face, whenever you’re trying to restrain yourself. I’ll admit it’s not a look I see often as you tend to say or do the first thing that pops into your head without thinking it through,” he grunts as your elbow reaches back to jab him in the ribs.

“What made you change your mind?” he asks in a serious tone. “You could have easily fought me off if you wanted to.”

“I know,” you reply with a sigh. “As much as I hated the idea of letting you win, I figured after everything you put me through, betraying and abandoning me, at the very least you owed me a mind-blowing orgasm.”

You can feel Thorin tense up behind you. You crane your neck to look back at him and he’s staring back at you with an intense look on his face that you can’t quite place.

“I would have thought you’d be flattered to hear me refer to it as ‘mind blowing’” you laugh nervously. He blinks at you and gives a weak smile before slowly untangling his arms from your waist so he can rise to a seat on the bed.

“The others are waiting,” he says, “we should head to dinner before someone comes looking for us.”

You nod silently, not having enough strength to call him out on the convenient change of subject.

“You go ahead,” you tell him, knowing you’ll need some time to process everything that’s just happened. “It might take me a while longer to finish getting ready,” you lie.

He rises from the bed, still clearly deep in thought as he crosses the room to head back to his own suite. He pauses for a moment with his hand on the doorknob, like he has something else he wants to say to you. But instead, he just disappears through the door without another word.

You let out a deep exhale and press the heels of your hands into your eyes.

“I can’t believe I just let Thorin Oakenshield finger fuck me,” you groan.

Next Chapter

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