#Caught

[iwillbeyourwolf]

@iwillbeyourwolf

[anika-ann]

Caught (S.R.)

Type: one-shot, fluff, they were roommates and idiots trope

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader   Word Count: 8,2k

Summary: You hadn’t exactly planned to get caught in the rain. Then again, people rarely do. But you did.

You hadn’t plan to get caught in the soft spiderweb of feelings for Steve Rogers when your friend had set you up as roommates. Then again, people rarely do. But you did. It was impossible not to.

Arriving at your shared apartment soaking wet sees Steve springing into action to warm you up… and send you falling deeper in love with him with every passing second. But hey – what else was new, right?

Warnings: tooth-rottng FLUFF, idiots-in-love trope, they were ROOMMATES trope, brief mention of PTSD and its symptoms, one gratuitous 'fuck' and French

A/N: cross-written for the Winds of Autumn challenge hosted by @the-slumberparty and for @elixirfromthestars ' writing challenge. Thank you ALL for hosting and breathing live into the community 💕 for WoA I chose 'caught in the cold rain' for the WChallenge I chose “ Why don’t you tell me what I can do to make your day better?” 

A/N 2: DIVIDER by @steviebbboi ;enjoy y'all 🥰

This was all your fault; it really was.

There was no one else to blame for your current state.

Soaking wet, hair and clothes dripping alike, shaking so hard you nearly dropped your keys when trying to fit it into the keyhole.

A few minutes was all it took.

And yes; it was all on you.

You had practically been praying for a sweater weather. You had been so fed up with the unbearable summer heat still gripping the reigns even mid-September that you prayed and begged and swore you might be able to kill a man for a single breath of autumn.

So clearly, you had called this upon yourself.

In all fairness, you had wished for Indian summer; the normal late September weather. The light sweater weather. You certainly hadn’t been hoping to be thrown into the weather of seasonal depression, the temperature drop equalling a time machine bringing the end of November to the air and people’s hearts alike. Unforgiving icy wind, endless downpours, poking umbrellas all around, ever-present grumbling as one’s coat brushed against another, the dampness and cold seeping into yours and everyone else’s bones.

Nothing nice and prayers-worthy about that.

The thing was, this had been a daily reality for about a week now – and so one would think you were well-equipped to deal with the weather at least.

Except like the fool you were, you left your waterproof jacket at home, because you had believed today’s weather forecast, confident that the desired sweet and slightly crispy autumn was coming at last.

You and the meteorologists had been wrong.

But that wasn’t the worst part, no – the worst part would be your giddy optimism in the face a sudden NY underground failure.

Taking the ride home from work, you had nearly slammed into people surrounding you in the train at the sudden slam of breaks. A system failure, apparently. Caused by the damage to the network due to previous intense rains. A mishap stopping the trains in their stations, forcing people out.

And like the optimistic half-wit, trying to find a bright side and making the most of a miserable situation, you had thought, hey, it’s only a few blocks from here! No rain on the horizon for a change. What an opportunity to soak in the lovely autumn weather! The buses and taxis will be packed, and walking is good for health anyway.

And sure it was. And you ended up soaking indeed.

The brutal downpour and icy wind caught you in about ten minutes after you had taken off to your brisk walk.

You seriously doubted there was any benefit to your health at all, safe for maybe points to your mental resilience and an excuse to stay in bed with a book and a cup of hot chocolate next week, because you were about to catch a grade-A case of cold.

By the time you got to your apartment door, you were ready to flop on the floor the moment you’d stumble inside, uncaring for the wet smack you’d make against the hardwood or the carpet should you make it further into the apartment.

Except you knew the floor would be unforgivingly hard either way, and cold and you first had to get out of your dripping shoes and then the drenched clothes sticking to your body like a second skin and it would take you forever to strip with how shaky and numb your fingers had turned, the only sensation being cold and stiffness bordering on pain and for god’s sake could you at least stick the damn key into the goddamn keyhole-

You finally opened the door with a gratuitous ‘fuck’ on your lips, practically throwing the door open.

And were met with a surprised sleepy supersoldier blinking at your owlishly, grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips, his white sleepshirt crumbled, the perfect case of bed hair and confused expression completing the most telling startled-from-his-sleep-but-not-Avenger-level-alarmed look.

Even in your state you had to admit he was adorable in a way men built like mountains shouldn’t.

You stared at each other mutely for several seconds, as if both surprised by each other’s presence – or at least state – processing.

You, drenched from rain and puddles, cold-dried by the wind, shivering all over and barely keeping your teeth from clattering as to hold onto the last shreds of your dignity and sanity.

Steve, still slightly disoriented, having just been woken up. Woken up by you, most likely, you thought regretfully, cursing your life-choices again. He was a light sleeper – a mere jiggle of keys would have interrupted his slumber, let alone your endless fumbling around the lock.

You spoke at the same time.

“I’m sorry for wak-” “What happened to you?”  

Your voice trailed off, a chuckle of irony echoing in the back of your head.

What happened to you?

That was a question a lot more loaded that it might seem.

What had happened to lead you to this place, facing a sleepy Greek-godlike figure with a concerned look on his face?

A whole lot of coincidences; a whole lot of fate, maybe.

Sam Wilson, a friend from childhood, with whom you had only reconnected a few years ago.

You, having been looking for an apartment ever since your landlord had announced he planned to sell the building to a huge corporation which would, from then on, only rent the apartments to its employees.

Sam again, looking to move in with his girlfriend, claiming he was leaving a roommate behind, who would appreciate a kind, trustworthy and reliable replacement.

Your ‘Gee, thanks’.  

‘Wait, no, he didn’t word it exactly like that,’ Sam had assured you. ‘I promise, he’s a real stand-up guy. Sure, a guy, but a respectful one and a neat one, with a sprinkle of a neat freak on top. He’s a great roommate and one of my best friends – I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t believe it could work.’

That was what your friend had said. And you believed him.

One thing led to another.

What Sam had conveniently failed to mention was that his real stand-up guy was a hulking drop-dead gorgeous supersoldier with the sweetest soul on the damn planet. Or maybe in the universe – what did you know? The universe had got a lot bigger ever since you found out it was perfectly possible for aliens to rain down from the sky through some kind of a hole in spacetime.

What Sam had conveniently failed to mention was that your future roommate was one of the heroes from the superhero band that had stopped these very aliens from taking over planet Earth.

After processing – even though you weren’t sure you’d ever finish processing – that you would share an apartment with Captain America, you accepted.

After all, you certainly weren’t one to look a gifted horse in the mouth; experience told you that could have done a lot worse than landing a person vetted by Sam Wilson and by a potentially world-ending event for a roommate.

In fact, you soon learned you couldn’t have done any better.

Steve was all the things Sam had promised.

And besides being the perfect person to share an apartment with, besides being the paragon of justice itself with a sprinkle of neat freak on top, he was also shockingly human.

Steve was a guy who had a routine until he didn’t, his schedule a little funny. He split housework with you in a way that left both of you content even as you felt he was doing a little bit more than his part whenever he could. He enjoyed cooking and baking and drawing and generally working with his hands, fixing any household issues before they could develop into a problem. Sometimes, nights found him in the living room with a book in his hand and quiet movie for a background when he couldn’t sleep. Sometimes, he left dirty dishes in the sink and a toothbrush on the basin instead of putting it into the holder and sometimes he forgot to put the toilet seat down. He was painfully respectful of your privacy and of your sleep alike whenever he was coming back at strange times, almost absurdly so for a man who seemed to barely fit in a doorway.  

He had a sharp mind and a subtle but deadly sense of humour on a good day and a quiet demeanour on a bad day, usually after a sleepless or nightmare-filled nights, which were always followed by him walking around the apartment with his sweats tucked into his socks because the draught and the cold on his ankles clearly bothered him. The list could go on and on and it was rather embarrassing for you, the idea for just how long you could keep listing things you observed about Steve and his habits and him; but the point was that he was a guy who was absurdly ordinary guy and extraordinary in about everything at once.

He had introduced as Steve the very day you had met, clearly not standing for any of your Captain, Sir, Captain Rogers nonsense.

He became Steve to you soon after.

He turned dear to you just as fast.

You weren’t sure when it happened; when your relationship shifted from sharing an apartment to sharing a life. It happened gradually, through dinners and breakfasts and films watched together; through nights he found you on the couch, barely awake or already sleeping after having been waiting for him even as he had told you not to; through late-night talks, about both things you were passionate about and things you wished you could forget.

You weren’t sure when this man, larger than life in both frame and heart, became your close friend.

You weren’t sure when the small butterflies that appeared in your stomach every time he smiled turned so all-consuming, spreading their wings through your whole body, circling around your heart.

It must have happened somewhere between his first smile and the sparkle in his warm blue eyes, between the tear-streaked cheeks when you found his shaking breathless body curled on the floor, between a hug and holding your hand when he drove you back from your wisdom teeth removal surgery because no one else was available, between every single minute you had the fortune to spend in his company and those you couldn’t, longing for him instead.

Somewhere in between, you must have fallen in love, the urgent feeling in your chest slowly turning unbearable and heavy. It burned, to stifle it inside, the one secret you wouldn’t share for the fear of breaking something as precious to you as your peaceful life with Steve the friend.

You weren’t sure when exactly it happened, but it got you there.

It got you here; into this very moment, just like many others, facing him and rendered speechless for a breath or two, because god, was he handsome and lovely and sweetly worried and an image of domesticity at once and you were hit with a sharp tug of a feeling whispering of coming home.

What happened to you, Steve had asked, his gaze turning more concerned by the second as you remained silent safe for the rustle of your soaked jacket you had started to strip at some point and the one clatter of your teeth you failed to stifle.

What did happen again?

“Got caught in a rain,” you rasped, stating the painfully obvious. “Underground broke down. Thought I’d walk…”

Steve frowned, sleepiness wiped off his face to give way to compassion and sternness at once, a sigh leaving his lips as he slowly neared you.

“Seemed like a smart idea at the time…” you continued when he didn’t say a word, just gently – always so gently dammit – pushed at the door to get it closed at last, his arms quietly coming around you, engulfing you in his embrace. Your heart startled at the gesture. “Steve, no, I’ll get you all we---wow okay, this is nice, you’re really warm-“

He chuckled sweetly above your head as you babbled, protests dying on your lips with a sound resembling a whine and moan as his warmth enveloped you, so relieving and inviting, prompting you to melt against his firm and yet painfully soft body.

His voice carried an admonishing note as you trembled against him, his warmth and pleasant scent of comfort seeping into your body while the cold and smell of rain soaked him in return. You did not care for the scolding; it was a kind one. And Steve still was still holding you – that was the important part.

And the most painful one.

"You could have called,” he said, like a sweet, even if already lost bargain. “I’d come get you.”

You pressed closer to him, clearly having a glutton for punishment.

Those few innocent words burned through you like the most tender wildfire. An inflection and tone that couldn’t have been good for your heart and yet you revelled in them; a statement that felt like an oath:

I‘d come get you.

I’d always come get you.

I’d do anything for you.

Something so close to love, in your reach and yet untouchable, because he didn’t mean it – he couldn’t mean it, because Steve Rogers had a large heart, but surely would have told you if you had occupied space in it that way.

And yet he held your own heart in his palms and he didn’t even know. Was it wrong you let the gentle words wash over you and let them warm you just as much as Steve’s arms, even if they meant something different than you’d wish?

You gulped, a shiver that had nothing to do with cold running down your spine.

“You only got in like three hours earlier,” you reasoned, forcing yourself to focus on the practical matters as not to slip into whispering a true confession; and perhaps doing so anyway along the way. It was true, however; as per habit and your request, Steve had texted you he was home safe and sound barely few hours ago. Knowing that led you to immediately weed out the mere idea of calling him to pick you up as it appeared in your mind the moment the downpour started. You were aware, however bittersweet the knowledge was, that he would come – that was why you hadn’t called. For his benefit. “You needed to sleep.”

Steve sighed again. And you needed to be picked up, you heard in the weary and yet somehow fond sound.

He didn’t argue, however; his hold grew tighter, appreciative, his broad hand, oh so warm, running up and down your back, pressing a little stronger than he normally would in a hug; allowing the heat of his body sink deeper, into your very bones, sending you sinking deeper into the warmth blooming in your chest as well.

Pressed against his front, you couldn’t but breathe in, allowing everything that was Steve overwhelm over your senses. The woodsy notes and musk of his cologne, the soft material of his sleepshirt burning almost too hot as it clung to his body, the smooth movements of his rough hands, his warm breath brushing your scalp, the image of his minute smile behind your closed eyelids, his voice humming in his ribcage and filling your ears like honey.

“Why don’t you tell me what I can do to make your day better?”

His question was so genuine – and a little wavery in a way that made your belly tingle in response. Tell me what I can do and I will do it. Just say the word, it seemed to whisper in your head, your heart protesting and fluttering in your chest.

You already are, you almost replied as the shudders subdued slowly despite both of you now soaking. You’re back home. You’re safe. You’re with me. And you’re warm. And big. And strong. And you smell good. And you’re holding me oh so tight and gentle and it feels so profoundly nice and you really are warm and maybe this new shiver running down my back isn’t just that I’m cold, maybe it’s that naïve hope of which I should have let go of so long ago-

He noticed the fresh wave of tremble of whose origin you yourself weren’t entirely sure of – your weather escapades or the escapades of your poor heart – and the caress up and down your back grew faster, more of a rubbing to create warmth than a soothing gesture.

“Okay, doll, you’re getting into the bathtub right away. What can I do in the meantime?”

In spite of his words, a benevolent order one might say, he didn’t let go.

Despite his question sounding urgent, you took your time responding; because it took a huge portion of your willpower not to tell him to just keep holding you.

“…hot chocolate?” you suggested meekly, a shy but slightly mischievous smile tugging at your lips when Steve released you at last, those big warm paws of his settling on your shoulders for a moment. “And you should probably change.”

He glanced at his wet clothes self-deprecatingly, as if it was his fault – and in a way, you supposed it was. But you weren’t complaining. The wet fabric clung to his body in the most delicious way, no matter the scepticism he observed it with.

When his gaze met yours again, his smile was the sun itself; but you still missed the heat of his body against your skin.

“You got it, doll. Come on.”

Much to your regret and salvation, he released you completely. You still graced him with a grateful and once again shaky smile which you could and should blame on the loss of his body heat.

“Thanks, Steve. You’re the best.”

And he was.

And if that wasn’t becoming a bigger problem by the minute.

With some of Steve’s warmth lingering – mainly the one his actions and demeanour awoke deep within your body – you managed to get rid of your clothes with enough ease and patience to have the bathtub fill with steaming hot water before climbing in. Sinking into the water then felt about as pleasant as sinking into Steve’s embrace had been – except this time, it was the rest of your body which appreciated the heat, warming you from the outside, tension leaving your muscles, your brain relaxing and slipping into a mindless haze, an absent smile forming on your lips.

You soaked in the tub for long enough to almost fall asleep and slide under the water; the only thing convincing you to fight the slumber off – perhaps besides, well, drowning – was the premise of a delicious cup of hot chocolate made with utmost care and Steve’s company, all the more appreciated since you knew he’d stay for at least five minutes even as he was no doubt falling asleep on his feet himself.

Not wanting to keep him waiting any longer, your climbed from the tub, rushed through your routine and emerged from the bathroom with steam following you, no doubt making for an image of cosiness with your blissfully dry comfortable clothes, complete with fuzzy socks.

Steve must have agreed with your assessment, because he greeted you with a grin.

He had left the two mugs of top tier hot chocolate with actual melted pieces of the treat and whipped cream on top on the kitchen counter, having brought two blankets for the couch, now fumbling with the tv remote. A quick glance around the apartment told you that while you were nearly nodding off in the bathroom, he had made a quick work of cleaning the mess you had left behind; electric shoe dryers already placed in your boots, your drenched jacket near the heating with plastic film spread on the floor as not to do any damage.  

You could kiss the lop-sided smile he gave you when you thanked him, your heart hammering in your chest with excitement and longing when he nodded towards the couch. To an outsider, the scene could easily appear as a quiet night in of a couple; a thoughtful beautiful man setting everything up for a date night full of seeking joy in simple domesticity and quiet intimacy.

One day, Steve Rogers was about to make someone incredibly happy.

The idea strung a sharp but brief note of jealousy in your chest, a lump growing in your throat as the rational part of you mocked you that the person wasn’t you. You would have known by now if you were; even though spending time with him did make you all kinds of happy.

You forced a smile through the light sting of tears, trying to stop your mind from racing and spiralling about the thought of having to move out to make space for the vaguely gorgeous and brilliant woman; or maybe sooner, just to put your heart at ease, because with every beat of it you felt yourself falling deeper into the trap of loving this man. It was beginning to hurt; and still, you approached him, smiling.

“Looking cosy. Feeling better?”

You nodded, unable to resist and placing your hand over Steve’s arm, his soft blues finding your gaze.

“Thank you, Steve. Really.”

The lopsided smile returned, his fingers brushing your shoulder. God, he was so close and all you’d have to do was to stand on your tiptoes. You’d kiss his cheek, a purely innocent display of gratitude of course, just to feel his smooth skin against your lips once-

You needed to get a grip. The brief hypothermia you had suffered was messing with your brain and was lowering your inhibitions and that was not good. 

“Anytime,” he assured you, nodding towards the screen. “We don’t have to, but I was wondering if you maybe wanted to watch a movie? I feel like we could both use that. But if you’d rather be alone-“

You shook your head quickly, your smile coming easier now because of the absurdity and thoughtfulness of his question at once. To be alone when he was there? No thank you. Who cared that the rational part of your brain huffed again, telling you that maybe that would be a better idea unless you wanted to torture yourself with false hopes.

Saying no was not an option.

You really must have had a glutton for punishment; but in some ways, you learned Steve suffered from the same condition. So maybe that was just his persona rubbing on off you… And thank you, brain, for the worst possible choice of words.

You cleared your throat.

“A movie sounds great,” you said, the mental image of you throwing its hands in the air, grumbling something about your poor old heart. Steve was still very softly holding onto your shoulder though, facing you, mere foot apart; who expected you to think rationally in these conditions? “Fair warning though, I almost fell asleep in the tub. Might fall asleep half-way through this.”

Steve grinned, stepping back to get the mugs and beckoning towards the couch again as to tell you to get settled. You obeyed without protest; you knew him well enough to be aware there was no point in trying to get your mug yourself.

He was the nurturing kind of friend.

“Does that mean I get to choose the movie so you can blame your social and cultural ignorance on my choices?” he teased.

He was also the loveable little shit kind of friend.

“Rude… and I would never,” you protested, accepting the offering of the hot chocolate, now indeed all cosy, tucked in a blanket, sitting comfortably and wrapping your hands around the mug to warm your palms further. “…but deal.”

Steve’s laugh was perhaps warmer than the mug and sweeter than its content, but you stomped at the thought as soon as it popped up in your head. You had no time nor capacity for nonsense. You had a nice evening ahead.

Better not to ruin it.

You weren’t sure what you’d expected, but this was not it.  

You had warned Steve about the possibility of you nodding off; after all, beyond having exhausted your body with the less-than-pleasant walk, nearly falling asleep in a bathtub and getting all comfortable on the couch, you had expected the large amount of sugar you’d consume to take its toll eventually and push you over the edge, the infamous sugar crash being the last straw.

You had expected to be out as a light in a matter of minutes, to be honest.

You had not expected the effect of all the warmth and sugars to evaporate much faster than that.

You were maybe twenty minutes into the movie and the anticipated sleep barely scratched the door of your consciousness; instead, the first reluctant shivers arrived. Blatantly ignoring Steve’s subtle side-eye and entirely obvious worry, you sank deeper into the couch, pulling the second blanket over yourself, tucking it all the way up to your chin, curling into yourself to preserve the warmth.

Thirty minutes in, you were shaking so hard Steve paused the movie, a crease forming between his eyebrows as he turned his upper body to you, right hand reaching out before pausing a few inches from your forehead.

“Can I?”

You hummed noncommittally, wondering yourself if maybe your grade-A case of cold was arriving sooner than expected and a fever already hit.

You were feeling just fine though; it was just the damn shivers which you couldn’t seem to stop.

Steve’s hand gently settled against your forehead, his frown deepening almost as if he could feel your heart speed up at the contact and didn’t approve. Which you knew was nonsense, because his whole mind was probably already consumed by the mission of assessing whether his inner Nurse Rogers should come out, but it worked well for cooling off your train of thought.

“It doesn’t feel like you have a fever, but we should probably check,” he hummed thoughtfully, shifting, prepared to rise his feet in search of the thermometer.

Your hand shot up from its safe warm haven, missing the target of his forearm but sending clear enough message to stop him.

He settled back down with a sigh, his hand sliding from your forehead over your cheek to the side of your neck, a delightful source of warmth spreading through your whole body and your suddenly deadly heartrate; a flicker of an image in which he’d place his hand exactly there and leaned forward, his lips brushing yours, nudged insistently at your brain.

You battled it with violent effort, refusing to even consider the soft look in Steve’s eyes was anything but concern for a good friend.

Because that was all it was: concern. What if you turned into an icicle, right? He had seen weirder things than that and he had spent whole seventy years frozen. He was naturally very worried about you having to endure the same.

“I’m fine,” you assured him with a smile that was shaky due to everything but cold. “Just my thermoregulation going haywire after all the excitement today--- Jesus how are you always so warm…”

Steve ignored your question, his hand still firmly set on your neck, the most delicious source of heat, his eyes roaming your embarrassingly shaking form.

“I’ve had a lot of practice with cold,” he said absently.

You could practically hear the wheels in his head turning, even as you were quite busy keeping your teeth from clattering. His eyes were so startingly blue, with the lightest speckle of green standing out for some reason, mesmerizing and warm as if to wreck the theory of these two colours normally belonging to the cold scale and you heart was positively about to beat your way out of your chest, because it appeared as if he was leaning forward a bit and maybe you were entering some kind of delirium, so it really was the time to move.

Move to kiss him, maybe, you bet his lips were warm too and yours were cold-

Okay, that was it.

“Okay, I think I’m gonna go for another soak-“

“Come here,” he muttered at the same time, effectively rendering you speechless when he released you only to scoot back a bit, his fingers beckoning lightly to himself, expression entirely serious.

What.

“I do run pretty hot and frankly I’d rather have you under supervision,” he said matter-of-factly, slipping into the Captain mode – managing to shoot your naïve hopes sky-high and shooting them dead in one sentence.

He was mission-oriented; that was all. He was worried, because frankly, your body was acting out and he was a good friend.

A good friend. A captain, responsible for his own.

There was nothing romantic about sharing body heat; he had probably done it dozen times on a mission.

He was simply concerned. And you should be and were grateful for that and for the practical and grounded approach to the matter at hand; you certainly preferred it to him rushing you to the doctor, because you were still pretty certain it was nothing to be worried about, nothing a good night’s sleep with loads of blankets on top of you wouldn’t fix.

So why the pang in your heart?

Why the regret and disappointment at him simply doing it to assure you’d feel better?

Because you were an idiot and you should have been so much more radical about forbidding yourself from catching feelings while living with Steve. But how could anyone blame you? He was just stupidly attractive and profoundly good and adorably ordinary in his extraordinariness, and you just wanted one touch, one taste, one moment of basking in his light and warmth and actual love.

Was that really so wrong of you?

You swallowed, voice set perhaps a little harsher than needed, the idea of him holding you out of pity making you a little sick to your stomach.

“Steve, you really don’t have to-“

“I want to,” he argued, voice so much softer in contrast to yours, and your body, that traitorous body acted, nearing to his despite your achy heart and hurting brain screaming at you to get to your feet instead, get to the bathroom or your room and lock the door and your heart and throw away the key to keep it safe.

“Steve-“

A smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he saw you wavering despite your verbal protest.

“Plus, I’m just doing my civic duty of protecting the innocent. You shake any harder, you’ll cause an earthquake.”

Deadpanning, you managed to stop your progress; in turn, your heart fluttered at the sparkle of mischief in Steve’s eye, that stupid muscle in your chest humming with fondness.

Godddamn him.

He knew exactly how to disarm you completely, to have you do his bidding, and he must have known of this power of his, blatantly abusing it for your wellbeing.

What a criminal behaviour.

With a sigh, you lifted your blanket a bit, scooting over to his open arms, carefully laying to his side as his arm slid under the blanket around your shoulders and pulled you closer; his warmth enveloped you in an instant, his hand rubbing gently at your arm, while his other busied itself with tucking the blanket around you to create a safe cocoon.

You felt yourself relax despite your better judgement, cheek laying on his chest, a steady thump-thump of his heart bargaining with yours:

How could you be short with him? Mad at him? He was just being the nicest person in the world, taking care of his friend, radiating warmth and smelling of comfort, selfless and without seeking anything but a simple thank you in return, if even that. And the charming bastard he was, he even tried to make you laugh.

It wasn’t his fault you had gone and fallen in love with him; it wasn’t fair to hold it against him that he was the best person you knew and your feelings were hurt just because he couldn’t think the same about you. Your mind understood that; it was your heart that was foolish.

You chased the thoughts away, only an echo of the ugly empty feeling remaining, giving way to a much more tender and insistent emotion; but mostly to sensation of your shivers subduing, almost as if they had been the trembles of an addict seeking their fix – Steve’s touch – rather than those of someone with messed up thermoregulation.

Maybe they were. But that wasn’t for Steve to worry about.

“Har har… how about your civil duty of being a sassybag…” you muttered in appreciation of his attempt, his chest shaking lightly with a chuckle.

“Oh, I’m taking that one most serious of them all.”

That he was.

The grin in his voice was infectious, however; you smiled against your will, poking his side lightly with your index finger.

“I noticed… but I forgive you.”

Because you’re really warm and sweet and for a moment, I guess I can indulge in the unhealthy delusion of you doing this because you like me close, postponing the ache of sobering up to reality for later.  

“I’m glad. How’s that feel?”

Like I want to stay like this forever.

Like I want you to want to stay like this forever.

You shushed the traitorous voice.

“Warm… comfy,” you added after a while, rewarded by a rub to your shoulder, being pulled impossibly closer. And it felt so good.

“Good.”

Simply holding you and sharing his heat indeed for a moment, he let you soak in the comfort. Seconds passed, maybe minutes; you didn’t count the beats of his heart, but heard every single one of them, soothing, whispering the little lie that maybe some of them were for you.

You didn’t argue; you didn’t quite give in.

When Steve lowly asked you if you wanted to continue the movie, you just nodded, grateful for the distraction of how incredibly right you felt in the little fantasy of yours that this, you being here in Steve’s arms, was exactly where you belonged.

As he reached for the remote, you whispered a soundless ‘thank you’.  

His ‘you’re welcome’ was softer and warmer than the blankets.

It was a herculean task to accomplish, fending off sleep, but having being in Steve’s company had rubbed off of you; you were anything but determined. Not knowing what the movie was about and what had happened on the screen in the past minutes – since the movie started, really – you still tried not to doze off at least.

You had a creeping suspicion Steve knew, deducting so from your silence or from the way your body was completely pliant against his, but he didn’t call you out, like the gentleman he was. Instead, he had simply stopped moving, safe from the periodical rise and fall of his chest, serving you as the most comfortable pillow you had ever had a chance of laying your head to, soft and warm and solid all at once.

And he seemed perfectly content to serve as one.

Just for that, you had stopped caring a while ago about his motivations. Had this been just a mission to keep a fellow human warm, so be it. He seemed pleased enough to do so and in your hazy sleepy mind, you knew one thing with absolute certainty – and that was that you did find this all kinds of pleasant too. Should the contentedness of yours come from a different place than his, well, you could deal with that later.

Or never.

You were just… happy and at peace.   

You weren’t sure when exactly you had closed your eyes, but you had; your voice was slurring a bit too, your determination to fight your exhaustion clearly not enough to win over sleep.

“Thank ya’ for takin’ care of me, Steve.”

At that, the soft statue under you shifted the tinniest bit, Steve’s thumb brushing your arm gently as his arm had remained around your shoulders. His heart was beating a little fast, you thought absently, lulled back into obliviousness by the vibration of his voice.

“You already said that…” he reminded you, humour and something else, sweeter, laced into his voice. “Anytime.”

You hummed in response, sinking deeper into the softness enveloping you.

“Hey… I mean it, okay?”

“Uh huh,” you muttered again, the dreamland already calling you, insistent and so inviting. “Same… arenchya sleepy? ‘m sleepy.”

Silence only sweetened by his still rapidly beating heart settled, another slow caress to your arm, Steve’s voice reaching you from tender proximity and endless distance all at once.

“Then sleep, doll.”

Mmm.

The dreams wrapped around your wrists like tender ribbons, coaxing you to follow them, pulling gently.

You could give in so easily. Letting the dreamland take you felt as simple as breathing; comfortable and warm, and feeling so damn safe that your heart, while peaceful, was aching a little.  

And maybe it was the tone Steve had spoken with earlier – so much emotion weaved into a few simple words, so much meaning – maybe it was the subconsciousness forming your dreams, but the memory of one of your favourites book which you had read multiple times flickered through your mind, making you smile. Or maybe it didn’t – you weren’t sure if you moved a single muscle, your body already floating.

Le sommeil partagé était le corps du délit de l'amour, the line read. A pondering of a man to whom sleeping with women meant nothing but entertainment, no feelings attached; not until he held a woman truly dear to him through the night, having fallen asleep peacefully, at last realizing that what he was feeling was love.

Sleeping with someoneor sleeping with someone, that was at the centre of his dilemma; the sharp contrast, one much more meaningful than the other. One a display of desire; the other, display of trust and love. A corpus delicti of love.

It was never like that for you – to you, the physical only came along with emotional, deep trust necessary to both. Having been learning about who Steve was, your mind argued lazily, there was no doubt in your mind Steve felt the same way about his relationships.

But the fact you could fall asleep right there, in his arms, and it felt like the safest place in the world…

It brought along a different memory; a memory of Steve’s large body curled into itself next to you on the couch, three blankets on top of him, your hands holding his, the contact seemingly somehow chasing away the demons of his past that had come to haunt his dreams. You had found him, lost in his own home, trapped in his own mind. He had agreed on a movie even as it had taken a long time to convince him that you weren’t going to back to sleep in your room while he’d try to fight off the invisible enemies his mind had created alone; so you had settled on a movie marathon instead. He had relaxed eventually, the dreamland taking him again, soft snores a lullaby to you – and you had never spoken about it again besides his quiet, ashamed and painfully genuine thank you the next morning. He had trusted you then, maybe feeling just as safe as you were now, despite you being nothing but an ordinary unenhanced human protecting him from evil.

It was a mirror image to how you were at this moment, you mused sleepily; you made him your pillow and a space heater and the source of comfort, while you tiptoed the line of reality and dreams.

His heartbeat thundered softly in your ear, calming but so vigorous and fast; and it slowly dawned to you that his body had stiffened under yours, the sensation nudging your consciousness and pulling you back, away from sleep.

Before you could voice your concern and confusion, his chest vibrated softly under you; his voice caressed you, tender with a hint of a rasp.

“…oui, c’est toujours vrai,” he whispered slowly, the words not making any sense.

Yes, that is always – still – true, you understood despite not being able to grasp at what he was saying truly or why, even as you knew French nearly perfectly, could probably speak it even in your sleep-

Your eyes snapped open, your heart jumping in your chest so fiercely it hurt.

Yes, that is always true.

It is true-

You had spoken out loud.

You had quoted one of your favourite books to him, out loud, speaking of shared sleep and love, and he had read that book too, you knew as much because you had talked about it before, he knew what that line meant, what it meant to you.

But it couldn’t be. He couldn’t be saying what you meant he was saying-

Except that tone. That soft, soft inflection to his voice, his thumb brushing over your arm again, reluctant but firm, his breath having hitched, awaiting your reaction to this… revelation?

And he got it; all sleep evaporating from your body, realizing you were basically lying on top of him – gods, you had no inhibitions in your semi-sleep state – your heart pounded so wildly your ribcage just might set it free. You gulped, shifting so you could look at him, the world slowly coming back to focus as your mind kept echoing the same words, over and over.

Corpus delicti of love. Corpus delicti of LOVE, c’est vrai-

You found Steve with his head bowed, observing you with patient and nervous anticipation, still holding you close to his body, something softly hopeful shimmering in his irises. Shadows of the evening had fallen over the living room but you could still see his perfect face so clearly, the depth of his blue eyes, the two beauty marks on his cheek, the pink lips looking so soft even as they were lightly pressed in a line – expectant of your response.

Your response to him indirectly confessing to---

Was he in love in you too?

The flicker of something you’d never dare to truly believe was real, because it appeared dangerously like adoration, lit up his eyes at your barely audible ‘really?’, a shadow of anxiety building behind the brilliant speckles of green in his irises when he nodded and waited.

As you processed, Steve never took his gaze off you in a display of bravery you were sure you would never have been capable of.

He had nodded. He had nodded.

Unless you were reading it completely wrong, unless--- unless this was just your fever actually taking over, Steve loved you, or at least was on his way to do so.

The overwhelming euphoric feeling rushed through ever nerve ending like a livewire, lighting your body up, your breathing hitching and expanding in your chest, something prickling in your eyes.

Steve’s Adam’s apple bobbed, gaze flickering over your face, appearing almost desperate to read your reaction since you couldn’t seem to verbalize how you felt.

But how could you let out a single word? He had romantic feelings for you too.

“We… we can talk later, if you’d like. You need your rest too…” he argued in a reluctant whisper.

There was no universe in which you were going to fall asleep, ever again and frankly you admired his self-restraint and willingness to wait after having just confessed he was interested in more than friendship and roommate-ship.

Steve Rogers, your Steve, was holding you in his arms, your bodies aligned, and he had feelings for you.

The soft expression – and the nervous energy radiation off him – whispered urgently of you not having read too much into his gestures, of your naïve hopes not being all that naïve, of all of this being true even as it left like a dream.

Maybe it was. But if it was, you’d cling to it and never let go.

And if it was by some miracle true, you sure as hell would never ever let sleep take you, because then… well.

The corners of your lips twitched minutely in an incredulous self-deprecating smile.

You were thoroughly warmed up, all shivers having subdued a long time ago, but something inside you trembled more than your voice.

“I can’t sleep now... I’ll think I’d dreamed all this up. That it wasn’t real,” you whispered hastily, “I… I want it to be real.”

Tension melted from Steve’s body at last, muscles having been tight as a bowstring easing into their mere usual firmness. His lips, those inviting lips, curled up in a smile, an echo of his eyes twinkling with something soft and exciting.

“Sounds like a dream to me too, yeah,” he admitted, your pulse nearing the speed that would sooner or later surely lead to cardiac arrest, your mind screaming with dozen of swirling thoughts.

He liked you. Steve like-liked you, perhaps maybe, just a little, on his way to love you, shared sleep, trust and love, he had dreamed of this too, he-

“How about…” he hummed, hand slowly cupping your cheek, tilting your head up and guiding you to lift it off his chest, causing your head to spin sweetly.

You could have easily escaped the tender touch; but you didn’t want to, not in a million years. You leaned into it instead, a pleasant twist deep within your belly, a shaky exhale leaving your parted lips, air swiftly drawn back as Steve leaned down, eyes roaming your face for any sign of protest. Finding none, his eyes earned a new kind of glow that warmed you up like no blanket or shower could, his lips neared dangerously, a silent wishful sigh as your fingertips stroked lightly over his chest.

“…we share a moment so real there’s no doubt left?”

There was no doubt left; and not a second of hesitation.

It occurred to you how absurd the reasoning was, to have a real moment, what a feeble excuse; as if you hadn’t dreamed of this before, as if the images of kissing Steve hadn’t haunted your nights, so vivid and so tangible morning had felt like razor tearing the masterpiece of a canvas apart; but that thought was but a silent voice in the very back of your mind and you did not care for it in the slightest.

On the other hand, Steve was right here and you’d do just about anything he’d suggest.

“Yes.”   

The second the breathless sound left you, Steve’s lips were pressed to yours, soft and warm and real, an electrifying sensation of right rushing through your very being, proving Steve’s damn point; your dreams could have never done justice to this.

Not to the way his lips moulded against yours, the tentative touch turning eager the very moment you pressed against him.

Not to the way he felt so perfectly solid and soft under your palm, against your side, against your thigh.

Not to the way his hand on your arm curled around your bicep and squeezed when your lips parted for him with a choked whimper.

Not to the way his fingertips caressed along your jaw to your chin, tipping your head back further to truly kiss you.

Not to the way you couldn’t get enough of it, of his touch, of his taste, chocolate and sugar and home, of his scent, invading your senses in the most wonderful attack you’d yield to with delight.

When your lips parted with a gasp, your name like the sweetest endearment on his lips, his forehead rested against yours, sharing your breath, your space, the wild beats of your hearts.

It seemed that some of those beats of his heart truly might be for you; just like quite a few of yours were for him.

And it was beautiful.

An unwitting chuckle spilled from your lips, the euphoria coursing your veins spilling over, rewarded by a soft stroke of Steve’s thumb over your cheek, a deep inhale, your eyes fluttering open to his soft but blinding smile you couldn’t but mirror.

God, he was the most stunning man you had ever seen in your life.

Had you not been rendered speechless by the kiss, his beauty would have done the job.

And if that hadn’t been enough, the way he was looking at you, as if you had hung the moon and the stars and he would have hung them for you if you had just asked – how had you never noticed it before? – now that would have done you for.

You had no words; but it seemed that for the moment, neither did he.

And so your gaze flickered down to his lips, now more tempting than ever, and you let action speak louder than words.

Cupping his face in return, you kissed him again, and let the coincidence or perhaps fate, that had led you to spill your secrets at the precipice of sleep, take reigns again, not at all protesting when Steve’s hands roamed to your waist, a silent invitation for you to move closer in any way you wished.

You let the moment take you wherever it would lead, quite happy if the half-wit you had called yourself earlier that day lost all her wits to Steve’s softly demanding mouth.

Maybe next time you’d get caught in the rain, he’d be there soaking with you; and maybe just like he hadn’t cared for getting his clothes wet earlier either, you’d both stand there in the downpour in an embrace of lovers, caring little for the water dripping all over you.

As long as he’d keep kissing you.

Complete masterlist

Steve Rogers masterlist

Happy autumn, everyone 💕 I know I should be working on my longfic but my brain seems distracted by various short-fic ideas, often fullfilling writing challenges...

I really enjoyed this one 🥰 and I hope that so did you!

Have a lovely autumn!🍂

P.S. - For those interested, the quote comes from Milan Kundera's novel Unbearable Lightness of Being (L'insoutenable légèreté de l'être or Nesnesitelná lehkost bytí).

[4gifs]

[sailorholly]

Caught

Summary: After you wear a skimpy bikini to catch the unsub, Spencer can’t get the image of you out of his head.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x F. Reader

Warnings: Smut. 18+ Only. Minors DNI. Masterbation.

A/N: Between Us will be a little late this week! So have this oneshot until it’s ready! ❤️

See my Masterlist Here

Sharing a room with Spencer had never been a problem. Everyone always partnered up so quickly, you two were often left with no choice but to room together. You were used to it by now, this was probably the tenth time.

He always stayed on his side of the bed when there was only one. You had a routine when it came to bedtime. You would take your shower first, while he laid out his clothes for the next day. When you were finished, he would take his while you read, snuggled in the bed.

It had been a strange day. You, JJ, and Emily had to go undercover to catch the unsub. He found his victims at the hotel pool he worked at as a lifeguard. He would stalk women on their vacations and kidnap them, holding them hostage until the next summer came around. He would kill them at the start of the summer and begin looking for his next victim.

So here you were, lounging by the pool in a bikini, hoping the unsub would target one of you. Rossi and Hotch stayed in a van outside watching the whole thing. Morgan and Spencer were also at the pool, by the bar so they could keep you safe if things went sideways.

Morgan flirted with each of you before you went out, shamelessly checking out your bikini clad bodies. Spencer was acting strangely. He spoke with JJ and Emily right before you went to the pool, but when you came up to him, he made an excuse to leave.

As you waited for the unsub to come down for his shift, you went over every interaction you had with Spencer today. You wondered if you said something to upset him, but you couldn't think of anything. The unsub finally came out, selecting JJ as a target. When he grabbed her as she went to the bathroom, Morgan pulled him off her, handcuffing him immediately.

You all went out to eat after he was in police custody. It was a long flight back home, so Hotch made the decision to stay for another night. At dinner, Spencer was back to his normal self with you. You were glad he got out of his weird mood. You didn't want to share a room with him if he was going to avoid you the whole time.

When you got back to the hotel, you and Spencer settled into your normal routine. You grabbed your pajamas out of your bag, heading to the bathroom. You hurried through your shower routine, skipping shaving your legs. You just wanted to relax in bed. You reach to turn the door handle when you hear something that stops you. Is Spencer crying? You hear him whining again. Something must be wrong with his mom.

You start to worry, but don't want to disturb him. He obviously thought you were in the shower and wanted to cry privately. You open the door just enough so you can look out. You'll shut it as soon as you know he's okay. Instead of crying, Spencer has his large hand wrapped around his cock. His head is thrown back, exposing his neck, veins clearly visible as he fucks his hand. His long lashes brush his sculpted cheeks under tightly closed eyes.

He is breathing heavily as his hand travels from root to tip. He takes his time, moaning when he reaches the leaking tip. His thumb swipes over it, gathering the pre cum formed there, and dragging it back down the length of him. You shouldn't be watching something so intimate. But you can't stop yourself. He is so beautiful, dark curls spread on the pillow.

A few moments pass before you decide to shut the door, as you gently scoot it, handle turned so it won't click as it closes, Spencer says something. Well moans it really, you listen closely. He couldn't have said what you thought.

Spencer knew you like the back of his hand. You would be in the bathroom for twenty minutes and forty-three seconds. He still had nine minutes, thirty-one seconds before you would return. He would normally wait to pleasure himself until it was his turn in the shower. But, seeing you in that tiny bikini earlier almost made him cum in his pants like a teenager.

He couldn't wait, as soon as he heard the lock click into place and the water running in the bathroom, he freed himself. He moans your name, knowing you couldn't possibly hear him due to the water flowing in the shower. He tugs his cock, the image of you on your knees in that bikini flooding his mind.

You sink down in front of him, hard nipples poking through the thin fabric of your bikini top. You smile as you take him all the way in the back of your throat. You would struggle to take all of him at first. They always do. You would power through it for him. You want to make him feel good.

He imagines you bobbing your head on him, cheeks sucking in, and tongue flicking across the veins decorating his cock. He would place a hand on your head to keep you in place. He would use his free hand to caress your cheek, feeling how full it was with him inside. Then he would bring it down to your breasts. His long fingers dipping beneath the bikini top to play with your nipples.

You would moan around his length, the vibrations almost making him explode. But he would hold back. He wanted to make this last. His hand would eventually travel lower, pulling your bikini bottoms to the side. He would swipe through your center, finding you soaking wet just for him.

Spencer would roll his thumb over your clit, while sinking two slender fingers deep inside you. He would curl them against your inner walls, tapping against that spot that would make you see stars. You would come undone around his fingers, your cries of ecstasy finally sending him over the edge. He would explode in your mouth, loving the way you swallow every drop.

Spencer shook as his orgasm hit him, calling out your name once again. He glanced at his watch, he still had fifty-five seconds before you would come out. He cleaned himself quickly, standing to put his now dirty shirt away. When he notices the bathroom door ajar, your wide eyes staring at him.

"How long have you been standing there?" He asks, his voice raising an octave. "Long enough." You answer, a knowing smile on your face. You walk to your go bag, putting away your toiletries. "I can explain." He starts, his face flushing red. "It's really okay. But Spencer?" He looks up, curls falling in his eyes. "I can do that for you next time." You wink as he looks shocked, stumbling toward the bathroom.

Tags

@cindylynn @wheredafandomat @multifandom-worlds @loz-3 @megharat-barnes-reid @kats72 @mochie85 @cakesandtom @spenciesprincess @kimm4710 @tmilover1993 @nomajdetective @cynbx @lover-of-books-and-tea @weirdothatwritess @silver-tongue-taken-to-bed @freegardenbanananeck @lamentis-10 @khxna @im-this-girl @queenshu

[skumhuu]

✨👑 Throne 👑✨ pages 9-10

Beginning

< • >

[ericshoney]

Skipping School ~ Brothers!Sturniolo Triplets

Summary: Your friends pressure you into skipping school with them for your brothers to be at the mall at the same time, catching you out.

Warnings: swearing, peer pressure, teasing, nicknames, slight angst, fluff

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Oh come on you little goody too shoes, skip once."

You were sat with your friends at school. They were talking about going to the mall. Not at the weekend, now. Whilst you were suppose to be at school.

"What if something happens?" You asked.

"Nothing will happen, your being dumb."

You knew Nick, Matt and Chris were home in Boston for a bit and had promised you they'd take you out for dinner tonight and a late night drive as it was Friday.

With a bit more peer pressure, you caved. You had a free period last anyways so it couldn't hurt, right? And it wasn't like you'd see your brothers....right?

So you along with three of your friends, left school, heading to the mall. You kept looking back, waiting for the moment of a teacher to shout at you, but it never happened.

"Stop worrying so much."

You sighed as the four of you made it to the mall. You first went and got some food, eating and joking. You slowly started to relax, it was all going well.

"Let's go in there!"

You followed your friends into the chosen store, looking at some stuff. You weren't going to buy anything because you know you'd get questioned. You just followed your friends around, giving them your opinion if they asked.

Again, it was going well. You felt at ease as you walked around the mall. You thought it wasn't going to go wrong. Until you saw them.

Nick, Matt and Chris.

Your brothers were walking right towards you, laughing and joking as they carried many bags.

"Shit." You cursed, ducking behind your friends as you kept walking.

But your brothers were sharp. They could spot their little sister from a mile away. You kept your head down as you walked, until you bumped into someone.

"Hey kid." Nick called.

"Oh h-hey Nick." You called.

"What are you doing here?" He asked.

"Oh umm, shopping?" You replied.

"Your supposed to be at school." He said.

"Right." You whispered.

You looked up for your friends who had long gone, making your eyes well up with tears. How could they just leave you?

"No, no don't cry, sweetheart." Matt said, rubbing your shoulder.

"They left me. It was their fucking idea and they left me!" You shouted.

"Shh kid." Chris cooed as he pulled you into a hug.

"Let's go sit somewhere and you can explain yourself. Depending on what you say, we'll see if we tell mum and dad." Nick suggested.

You nodded as you walked with Chris' arm around your shoulder, to a little coffee shop. Nick ordered you all drinks before sitting down at the back.

"Alright kid, spill." Nick said as you all sat down.

You then explained everything. How it was your friend's idea to come here and skip. The peer pressure and teasing. As you told them everything, your brothers didn't look happy which worried you.

"I skipped a free period." You added.

"Well. Let's start simple, sweetheart." Chris said.

"Your friends are assholes." Nick said.

"Yeah." You agreed.

"We're not that mad, petal. Slightly disappointed that you still went along with it, but we understand peer pressure." Matt said.

"I'm sorry." You apologised, playing with the straw in your drink.

"We won't tell mum and dad." Nick replied.

"And we'll still take you out tonight." Matt added.

"But you gotta find some better friends." Chris said.

"There's a girl and guy in my science class, they are pretty cool." You responded.

"Then hang out with them!" Nick exclaimed.

You nodded and were glad your brothers weren't angry and knew you'd make some new friends on Monday.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tags:

@mattsfavbigtitties @lgbtq-girl @onelesslonelygirlbieber6 @sturniolo-fann @riowritesitall

[viperkalas]

To be fair, she snuck into his house without permission.

I made a simple sketch practicing perspective, did I do okay?

[inspecther-assets]

#164 wait till the end lol she tries to act tough asking if I had a problem. How cute, after I made a movie to beat off too bitch

[enemiestolovershoe]

Heii babeee. Can you please do a Rafe Cameron x enemies!reader? They are both well known people on Figure 8 but hat each other but one evening at a gala or something they fight and end up fucking in the bathroom. Maybe Ward and readers dad catches them in the end?

Entangled with the Enemy

Rafe Cameron x enemie!reader

Words: 4k

Summary: a heated rivalry ignites passion during a gala, revealing hidden desires.

Ever since you could remember, Rafe Cameron had been a thorn in your side. It wasn’t just a passing annoyance—no, it was a deep-rooted rivalry that had started long before either of you understood the complexities of disdain. It began at the country club when you were both barely old enough to hold a golf club. He had knocked over your lemonade in the clubhouse, laughing in that irritating way that only a spoiled rich kid could. You had retaliated by stepping on his foot with your newly polished shoes, which led to a shouting match that had every adult in the room glancing disapprovingly in your direction.

You hated him then. You hated him now.

Years later, not much had changed between you. If anything, the rivalry had only grown stronger, more venomous, as you both became fixtures in Figure 8’s elite social scene. Wherever you were, Rafe wasn’t far behind, and the feeling of mutual loathing had followed you through middle school, high school, and now, even into your early twenties.

Everyone in Figure 8 knew of your animosity. Some thought it was amusing—two golden children of Kildare’s wealthiest families constantly at each other’s throats. Others whispered, wondering if there wasn’t something else lurking beneath all that hatred, but you always scoffed at the idea.

Tonight was no different.

The annual Figure 8 Gala was a glamorous event, one that drew all the old-money families out of their grand estates and onto the dance floor, where champagne flowed like water and gossip circulated in hushed, excited tones. You stood near the bar, wearing a sleek black dress that made you look effortlessly elegant. You had a glass of wine in your hand, but you weren’t drinking much. Instead, your eyes flitted over the crowd, looking for an exit. As much as you tried to tolerate these events, they always left you feeling restless.

Just as you took a sip, you heard that all-too-familiar voice behind you.

“Surprised to see you here. Didn’t think this was your scene anymore,” Rafe sneered, his presence commanding attention without even trying.

You set your glass down on the bar, not turning around yet. The tension between you two was palpable, even before you exchanged a single glance.

“Rafe, are you stalking me now, or is it just that you have nothing better to do with your life?” you retorted, finallyspinning around to face him.

He looked infuriatingly good, dressed in a tailored black suit that highlighted his broad shoulders and sharp jawline. His eyes, blue and piercing, studied you for a moment before a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Always the charming one,” he said mockingly, stepping closer. “Remind me, how many years have you been trying to get under my skin? I’m starting to lose count.”

You crossed your arms, refusing to let him intimidate you. “I don’t have to try. You make it way too easy.”

Rafe chuckled, a low sound that made your skin prickle with annoyance. “Oh, trust me, princess, you’ve been trying. Ever since we were kids.”

At that, your glare sharpened. "Please. If anyone’s been obsessed with the past, it’s you. I’ve moved on from our childish nonsense a long time ago.”

“Right,” he drawled, raising an eyebrow. “That’s why you’re standing here, looking like you’re about to snap my neck just because I’m breathing in the same room as you.”

“I’m standing here because I’m trying to enjoy my night without you ruining it,” you shot back, voice icy. “But clearly, that’s asking for too much.”

He leaned in, his breath ghosting over your ear. “You’re enjoying this just as much as I am.”

You pulled back immediately, staring at him like he’d just insulted you. “You’re delusional if you think I enjoy anything about you.”

Rafe tilted his head, considering you with a smug look that only made your blood boil more. “You used to care what I thought. Back in the day. Admit it.”

You scoffed, brushing past him, though he was quick to catch up, his long strides keeping him close. “I never cared about your opinion, Rafe. You’ve always been a spoiled, arrogant—”

“Rich boy?” he finished for you, a sarcastic glint in his eyes. “You keep throwing that around like it’s supposed to insult me.”

“It’s not an insult,” you replied, your voice low but steady. “It’s a fact.”

He stopped in front of you, blocking your path. The tension between you both was starting to draw attention from the surrounding party-goers, who were now casting curious glances in your direction. Some even whispered to one another, probably amused at the latest chapter in the saga of Rafe Cameron vs. You.

“Why do you hate me so much?” Rafe’s question came suddenly, his tone different—less mocking, more…curious. His brow furrowed as if he genuinely wanted to know the answer. “What is it, huh?”

You blinked at him, momentarily thrown by the shift in his attitude. “I—what?”

“You heard me,” he said, taking a step closer, his voice dropping. “Why do you hate me? Because, from where I’m standing, it feels like you put more effort into this than necessary. I know I’m not the nicest guy around, but…” He trailed off, watching you with a sharpness that you hadn’t seen before. It was unnerving.

You swallowed hard, straightening your posture as you searched for a retort. You couldn’t let him get to you. Not like this. “It’s easy to hate you, Rafe. You make it easy.”

He nodded slowly, as if contemplating your words. His lips twitched, forming a tight smile. “Because it’s easier to hate me than admit anything else, right?”

“What the hell does that mean?” you snapped, suddenly defensive.

“It means,” Rafe started, closing the distance between you again, his voice lowering to a near whisper, “you spend so much time convincing yourself that I’m the problem, but maybe the problem is you can’t stand the fact that we’re more alike than you want to admit.”

You opened your mouth to argue, to tell him he was wrong, but nothing came out. For a split second, his words hung in the air, wrapping around you like a vice. The tension between you two felt different, heavier, like it was building toward something neither of you could control.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you finally managed to say, though your voice lacked the usual venom.

His smirk returned, but there was something else behind it now. Something almost…challenging. “Oh, I don’t have to. You’re already thinking about it, aren’t you?”

“I’m not thinking about anything except how to get away from you,” you shot back, turning on your heel to leave. But his hand caught your wrist, stopping you.

“Funny,” he murmured, his voice dark and teasing. “Because every time you walk away, you always come back.”

A rush of frustration surged through you, his words clawing at something deeper, something you hadn’t been willing to admit for a long time. Maybe it was the constant proximity, maybe it was the years of bickering, or maybe it was the way he stood there, challenging you with every look, every smirk, every damn word. You felt your pulse quicken, your heart hammering in your chest as the room seemed to grow smaller.

You exhaled sharply, the weight of the moment pressing down on you, overwhelming you.

"Fuck this," you muttered under your breath.

Without giving yourself time to think—or regret—you grabbed Rafe by the front of his jacket and pulled him with you, weaving through the crowd. You didn’t know where you were going at first, but the second you spotted the nearest bathroom, you headed straight for it. Your heels clicked furiously against the polished floor as Rafe followed, clearly taken by surprise but not resisting.

The bathroom door slammed behind you, not locking, but you didn’t care.

Before you could second-guess yourself, your hands gripped his collar, pulling him down as your lips crashed into his. It wasn’t gentle; it wasn’t careful. It was desperate, heated—years of tension and frustration finally spilling over.

Rafe groaned into your mouth, his hands immediately gripping your waist as if he’d been waiting for this moment just as much as you had. The kiss was fierce, all teeth and tongue, neither of you giving the other a moment to breathe.

“Always so dramatic,” Rafe muttered against your lips between heavy breaths, his fingers sliding up your back, sending shivers down your spine.

“Shut up,” you breathed, your fingers tangling in his hair as you deepened the kiss, wanting—needing—more.

He chuckled against your mouth, but the sound quickly turned into a low growl as his hands roamed down to your hips, gripping you with an intensity that made your legs feel weak.

Before you knew it, he lifted you effortlessly, your back pressing against the cool bathroom counter as he hoisted you up onto it. You gasped as the cold surface met your thighs, but the feeling was quickly replaced by the heat of his hands sliding up your legs, parting them with a slow, deliberate motion.

His lips were on your neck again, sucking and biting in a way that made it impossible to think straight. You could feel his breath hitch as he pressed harder into you, his body flush against yours.

“You’re not gonna stop me this time, are you?” Rafe’s voice was rough, low, almost daring you to push him away.

“Try me,” you muttered, breathless, your nails digging into his shoulders as you pulled him closer.

Rafe smirked, his eyes dark with something more than just arrogance. His hands tightened around your waist as he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours again. "I always knew you wanted me,” he whispered, his voice dripping with that familiar cockiness, but this time, you didn’t bother to deny it.

“You think too much,” you replied, your voice coming out in a breathy rush, and before he could respond, you crashed your lips into his again. This time, there was no holding back, no hesitation. Just pure, heated want.

He groaned into your mouth, the sound vibrating against your lips as his hands slid up the inside of your thighs, parting your legs even further. The counter pressed against your back, the cold contrast making the heat between your bodies even more intense.

Your heart raced as his touch became more insistent, his fingers digging into your skin like he couldn’t get enough of you. And you couldn’t get enough of him, either. Everything about this moment was wrong, but it felt so damn right.

You didn’t stop him. You didn’t want to.

You barely registered what you were doing as your fingers reached for the buttons of Rafe’s shirt, fumbling slightly in your haste to get it off. He broke the kiss for a brief second, just long enough to glance down at your hands before smirking. Without a word, he quickly helped you, undoing the buttons faster and shoving the fabric off his shoulders. His skin was warm beneath your touch, the heat of his body driving you crazy as your hands ran over the hard planes of his chest.

He didn’t waste any time either. His hands slid down your waist, rough and urgent, before they disappeared under your dress. With one swift motion, he pushed it up around your hips, his fingertips skimming over your thighs as he hooked his fingers around the waistband of your panties.

“Let’s get these off,” Rafe growled, voice thick with lust as he pulled them down in one quick motion, leaving you bare beneath him. He tossed them aside carelessly, his hands immediately returning to your thighs, spreading your legs wider.

You gasped, both from the sudden exposure and the way his touch sent a rush of heat pooling low in your belly. Your mind was spinning, caught somewhere between disbelief and pure, unfiltered desire. This was happening, and it was happening fast, but you couldn’t bring yourself to stop it. Not when every touch, every breath, made your skin burn with need.

Rafe’s hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer to the edge of the counter, his body pressing firmly against yours. He took a moment to look down at you, his blue eyes darkened with lust, a cocky grin pulling at the corner of his mouth.

“I always knew you couldn’t resist me,” he teased, his voice low and dripping with that same arrogant charm that had always made you want to slap him—except now, it made you want him even more.

“Shut up,” you breathed, your hands flying to his belt, desperate to unbuckle it and get it out of the way. The sound of the leather slipping free was loud in the small bathroom, but all you could focus on was the feel of his skin against yours as you finally managed to free him from his pants.

“Someone’s eager,” Rafe murmured, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he kicked off his shoes and pushed his pants and boxers down in one swift movement.

Your heart was pounding in your chest, your pulse racing as he pressed his hips against yours, the feel of him—hard and ready—against your entrance sending a fresh wave of heat coursing through your body.

“Rafe,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of your own ragged breathing.

His eyes met yours, the cocky grin gone, replaced by something far more intense. Without saying a word, he positioned himself between your legs, one hand gripping your thigh as the other lined himself up at your entrance. There was no warning, no teasing, just the raw, primal need driving both of you.

In one smooth thrust, he pushed inside, and both of you let out matching moans, the sound filling the small bathroom as your bodies collided.

“Fuck,” Rafe groaned, his head dropping to your shoulder as he paused for a moment, letting you adjust to the feeling of him deep inside you. His breath was hot against your neck, his grip on your hips tightening as he fought to keep himself under control.

You gasped, your nails digging into his bare shoulders as your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, pulling him deeper. The stretch was intense, the pressure overwhelming, but it felt so good, too good. Your head fell back against the mirror behind you, your body arching against his as the tension in the air became almost unbearable.

“God, Rafe,” you whimpered, biting your lip as you tried to catch your breath. “Don’t stop.”

His eyes flicked up to meet yours, and the look he gave you was pure hunger. “Wasn’t planning on it,” he growled, and with that, he started to move.

His thrusts were slow at first, controlled, as if he was savoring the feeling of you wrapped around him. But it wasn’t long before the pace quickened, the heat between you building with each movement. His hands gripped your hips tighter, pulling you against him with every thrust, his body driving into yours with an intensity that left you breathless.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Rafe groaned, his voice rough and filled with raw desire. His lips found yours again, but this kiss was different—hotter, needier, all tongues and teeth as his hips snapped forward, hitting deeper every time.

You couldn’t hold back the moans that escaped your lips, each thrust sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. Your nails dug into his back as you clung to him, your body rocking with his, matching his rhythm. It was fast, frantic, like you both needed this more than air.

“Rafe…” You breathed his name again, a plea, a warning. Your entire body was wound tight, the tension coiling low in your belly, threatening to snap at any moment.

“Say it again,” he demanded, his voice thick and strained as he drove into you harder, his forehead resting against yours. “Say my name.”

“Rafe,” you gasped, your voice breaking as another wave of pleasure crashed through you. You were close, so close, and he knew it.

“Good girl,” he muttered, his lips brushing against yours as he thrust deeper, the angle hitting just right, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your veins. “You’re so fucking perfect like this.”

You could barely respond, too lost in the feeling of him inside you, the overwhelming sensation building with each thrust, each ragged breath. Your legs tightened around his waist, pulling him closer, deeper, as your nails raked down his back.

“Fuck, I’m close,” you managed to gasp, your head falling back as the pleasure built to a breaking point, your entire body trembling.

Rafe groaned in response, his thrusts becoming erratic, more desperate as he chased his own release. “Me too, baby,” he muttered against your skin, his voice strained. “Come for me.”

And that was all it took.

With one final, hard thrust, the tension inside you snapped, sending you over the edge. A moan tore from your lips, your entire body shaking as waves of pleasure crashed through you, overwhelming your senses.

Rafe wasn’t far behind. You felt him tense, his grip on your hips tightening as he buried himself inside you, groaning as he reached his own release. His breath was hot against your neck, his body pressed against yours as he rode out the last waves of pleasure, his hips moving in slow, lazy thrusts.

For a moment, the only sound in the room was your ragged breathing, both of you trying to catch your breath as the intensity of what just happened settled between you.

Rafe pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours as he looked at you, a mixture of satisfaction and something else—something unreadable—in his eyes.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice low and still rough from exertion.

You nodded, still trying to process everything. “Yeah… more than okay,” you whispered, a small, breathless laugh escaping your lips.

Rafe smirked, that cocky grin you knew so well making its return. “Knew you couldn’t resist me.”

As the rush of the moment slowly faded, the sound of your combined heavy breathing filled the small space. Rafe’s hands still gripped your waist, his forehead resting against yours as both of you tried to come down from the intense high. Your skin was flushed, tingling from where he had touched you, the heat of your bodies still lingering in the air.

Neither of you said a word for a few moments, the silence stretching between you, filled with the weight of what had just happened. You were still perched on the counter, your dress bunched around your hips, both of you completely undressed, the reality of your situation slowly settling in.

Rafe leaned back slightly, his eyes scanning over your face as if trying to make sure this was all real. A small, cocky smile began to creep onto his lips. “That was… something,” he breathed, his thumb gently brushing against your thigh.

You couldn’t help but let out a small, breathless laugh, shaking your head as you tried to gather yourself. “Yeah,” you whispered, your own cheeks still burning, your heart racing for a whole new reason. “Something.”

Just as you were about to say more, the faint creak of the bathroom door opening snapped both of your heads toward the sound.

Panic hit you like a tidal wave, your breath catching in your throat as your eyes widened in horror. You had barely registered the fact that you were still practically naked, tangled in Rafe, when two familiar figures stepped into the bathroom—your dad and Ward Cameron.

The room seemed to freeze for a second. Your heart dropped into your stomach as you stared, wide-eyed, at the two men now standing in front of you. They didn’t even look surprised—more like they had walked in on something they’d been expecting all along.

“Oh my god,” you mumbled, your voice barely audible, your face flushing even redder than it already was. You quickly moved to cover yourself, but it was too late. You’d been caught. You felt the heat rise to your cheeks, mortification crashing over you like a wave.

Rafe, equally frozen for a moment, blinked before quickly stepping in front of you, blocking their view as much as possible. “Oh my god, Dad, get out!” he shouted, his voice louder than necessary, sounding more like a demand than a request.

Your dad chuckled first, breaking the silence with a deep, amused laugh that made your embarrassment ten times worse. He exchanged a look with Ward, who simply shook his head with a knowing smile, as if the two of them had been waiting for this moment.

“Well, look at that,” Ward said, his tone full of dry amusement as he turned to face Rafe. “Took you two long enough to finally get along.”

Rafe groaned in frustration, his face flushed as he tried to shield you from view, his hands scrambling to grab his discarded shirt. “Dad, seriously—get out!” he snapped again, his voice full of exasperation.

Your dad shook his head, still chuckling softly. “We’ll give you two a moment,” he said, his voice tinged with amusement as he turned around to leave. “But don’t take too long. The gala’s still going on, after all.”

Ward followed suit, giving one last look over his shoulder, an almost proud smirk on his face. “Nice work, son,” he said, before closing the door behind him.

As soon as the door clicked shut, you let out a groan, burying your face in your hands. “Oh my god, that did not just happen,” you muttered, your cheeks still burning with embarrassment. You could still hear the faint sound of their laughter echoing down the hallway.

Rafe let out a heavy sigh, shaking his head in disbelief. “That’s just… unreal,” he grumbled, running a hand through his hair, clearly as mortified as you were. “I can’t believe they—”

You cut him off with a shaky laugh, your hands still covering your face. “This is officially the worst way this could have ended.”

Rafe chuckled softly, clearly trying to shake off the awkwardness of the situation. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering for a moment. “Yeah, well,” he murmured, his voice light and teasing, “at least they didn’t kill me.”

You let out a weak laugh, finally pulling your hands away from your face to look up at him. “Yet,” you replied, your voice dry as you shook your head. “They didn’t kill you yet.”

Rafe grinned down at you, his eyes sparkling with that familiar mischief. “Guess we’ll just have to see how long I can stay alive, huh?”

You laughed again, the tension between you easing just a little. Despite everything—the panic, the embarrassment—there was still that undeniable spark between you, something deeper that neither of you could ignore anymore. Whatever had happened tonight, it had changed everything.

“Let’s just… not talk about this,” you muttered, still trying to shake off the mortification as you grabbed for your clothes, ready to escape the bathroom as fast as possible.

“Deal,” Rafe agreed, already pulling his shirt back on, though his eyes lingered on you with that same heated intensity, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “For now.”

As you straightened your dress and gathered yourself, you couldn’t help but glance back at him, a part of you knowing that whatever came next between you and Rafe, it was going to be far from over.

[fraternum-momentum]

Its should be a crime for you to draw both woman and men this pretty , IM TAKING YOU DOWN /silly

the perks of being attracted to everyone,,,,,,,,

[adorkabletwilightandfriends]

Adorkable Twilight & Friends - “Shower Singer"

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[sweetbunbakeshop]

Could've sworn I planted some kale here... 🤔

[maddiethedogstories]

Caught

It had been an amazing weekend. Two days of absolute freedom to play and explore. No wife, no kids, no work, no one around to judge.

Mads had been waiting this weekend for years. As a closet AB/DL, he had spent more than a decade dreaming about what it would be like to give into his desires. He had devoted hours of his life to imagining what it would be like to little for a bit. However, before this weekend, the opportunity to act on those desires had just never arose.

Mads loved his partner, Margaret, but they had spoke about his interests before, and, while Margaret had not been upset, she made it clear that she did not want to be included when he acted on them. Mads loved Margaret and didn't want to push her into something she was uncomfortable. So, resigned to his fantasies staying just that, he turned to the internet to satiate his desires through text.

But, this weekend was different. With the house to himself for an extended period of time for the first time in years, he could do what he wanted, dress how he wanted, and act how he wanted without fear of making anyone, especially Margaret, uncomfortable. And that was precisely what he did.

Armed with the most embarrassing patterned ABDL diapers he could get discreetly shipped to his house, a onesie sized to fit his tall frame, and a gigantic pacifier, Mads spent the weekend wetting himself, watching kids shows, playing video games, and being teased for being a giant baby by his closest Internet friends. It was wonderful. Mads got to give into his desires in a way he never believed was possible before.

In the interest of commemorating the moment in case it never happened again, Mads even held a little photoshoot, highlighting his time exploring his little side. Reviewing the pictures he couldn't help but laugh at how cute and pathetic he looked all dolled up like an overgrown infant.

Monday rolled around too quickly, and Mads went back to work knowing Margaret would be home when he got back. With his onesie, pacifier, and spare diapers tucked safely away, Mads resigned himself to letting life go back to normal. That resignation lasted until he got home.

Like he did every day, when he got home from work, Mads walked up to his door, put the key in the lock, then looked up as he pushed the door open. Unlike every other day, when he looked up this time, he immediately saw something that made him feel feint and blush all at once. A familiar, embarrassing image stared at him, taped to the other side of the door's window: a photo of himself, diapered and sucking on a pacifier. One of the photos from the weekend has been posted clearly where he would see it when he got home.

Panicked, Mads threw open the door and ripped the photo of himself off the window. How could it have gotten there? Who would have even had access to those photos?

Mads turned to look down the hallway towards the kitchen, and his heart dropped. Plastered over every photo and every piece of art hanging on the walls were new photos--photos of Mads. There were photos of him lying on the floor, coloring while his diapered rump peeked out over his shoulder. There are close ups of his face, pacifier tucked between his lips. There were full body shots of Mads posing with a full diaper, the snaps of his onesie straining against the weight of the soggy pampers. Mads stomach churned as, with each step, the photos became more embarrassing.

The magnum opus came at the end, lying on the kitchen counter. As Mads looked down, he found a photo of himself staring back up him. In the photo, Mads stared at the camera smiling. His onesie pulled up over his belly button, revealing the open, soaked diaper he was lying on, as he changed his own diaper. Stuck to the photo was a post-it with a message written in what was unmistakenly Margaret's handwriting.

"Someone's been naughty! Come see me upstairs. Now!"

After two days of constantly wetting himself, it took more effort than Mads wanted to admit to keep his pants dry while reading his partner's message. How did Margaret know what he'd been up to while she was gone? How did she get those photos? And, most importantly, what was she going to do? Last time they had talked about his ABDL fetish, she didn't love the idea, but she said that she didn't have a problem with him acting out his fantasies without her around. Had that changed?

Reluctantly, but not wanting to delay the inevitable, Mads trudged upstairs to the master bedroom, as ready as he ever was going to be to face his fate. He never expected what he saw when he came inside.

Sitting on their carefully made bed in a beautiful sundress that was somehow both modest, yet incredibly sexy, was Margaret. Next to her, one of his gigantic adult baby diapers laid open. His pacifier was laid delicately on his carefully folded onesie nearby. When Mads walked in the door, Margaret patted an open spot on the bed next to her, beckoning for him to take a seat.

Stunned, Mads followed Margaret's direction and immediately sat down. His partner then immediately reached up and ran her fingers through his hair as she gently guided his head so that he was facing her. Mads, humiliated and scared, felt incredibly comforted by the gesture. He barely resisted a moan of pleasure and relief as Margaret spoke.

"It looks like someone had a good time while I was gone," she spoke with a firm yet sweet tone.

Mads blushed and tried to splutter out an answer only to be shushed by Margaret putting a finger firmly to his lips.

"No talking, Little One," she said, "It's Mommy's turn to talk. Now, get those silly big boy clothes off and lay down."

His brain still not working from the combination of humiliation, fear, confusion, and now overwhelming arousal he was feeling, Mads did as he was told. He quickly stripped off his work clothes and laid his naked body on the bed, his ass placed precisely in the center of the open diaper.

As Margaret walked around the bed, grabbing changing supplies set on a night stand that he was just now noticing, Mads tried to squeak out a question.

"How...?"

That was as far as he got before his large, green pacifier was delicately shoved between his lips.

"I said no talking, baby, but, I guess you deserve an answer as to why this is happening," Margaret said as she began to sprinkle baby powder liberally over Mads' shaved crotch. "Well, frankly, baby, you are not nearly as sneaky as you think you are. While Mommy was away having a girl's weekend with her friends, you thought you could get away with spending some baby time by yourself, right?"

Mads nodded his head up in down in affirmation as Margaret continued.

"And you thought it would be SO fun to take pictures of yourself, to remember what a silly little baby you really are later, I imagine?" Margaret continued.

Once again, Mads nodded his head. This time, the gesture was accompanied by a bright red blush as he thought of the humiliating pictures that were still plastered to the walls downstairs.

"Well, what you forgot, you silly little idiot," Margaret said with a surprisingly loving and gentle tone, "is that partner sharing is turned on on your phone. Every time you took a picture of your silly, little toddler self, waddling around and playing in your soggy baby pants, Mommy got a copy of that picture sent straight to her phone!"

Mads tensed at having his horrific mistake laid out before him. At the same time, Margaret folded the front of Mads' diaper up, covering his groin to nearly his belly button. Margaret delicately smoothed the diaper as she continued.

"Baby, you're not in trouble. I know we've talked about this before, and I said that I didn't want to be involved. But, sitting there at the beach house with my girlfriends, drinking wine and secretly looking at pictures of you all diapered up..." Margaret paused in thought for a second as she grabbed a side of the diaper and began fastening the tabs, "Well, Mads, you just looked so fucking adorable. Instead of grossed out and turned off, like I thought I would be, I was just jealous I wasn't there to take care of you."

Tears of relief, love, and happiness started to roll down Mads cheeks as Margaret continued talking and taping the diaper on him.

"I'm glad you had so much fun this weekend, baby boy, but Mommy's home now," Margaret stopped speaking for a moment as she patted his padded crotch and crawled on to the bed, bringing her face close to his, "and it's time that Mommy and Mads get to have some fun together."

Mads closed his eyes and melted as Margaret gave him a gentle kiss on the forehead. Mads pulled Margaret into a big bear hug as he continued to cry tears of relief, joy, and love.

He'd been caught. Margaret had caught him. Now, all Mads hoped was that she Margaret would never let him go again.

[3trm11str]

🤩Redhead Milf with a nice natural bubble In light washed jeans😎😱❤️

Wanna see more?Dm for full 4 minutes and 51 seconds of that juicy bubble 🎥and or Follow/like and repost pages for More 🔥🔥 Content‼️‼️‼️

[rapz-rites]

Is it alright if i request Batbros finding out Damian has a s/o

But it’s not just any s/o he’s dating his best friend and his partner in vigilante work

Love your work and I hope all is well

Best-friends and Girlfriends

Damian Wayne x Meta!Reader

Why were the Batboys surprised to find out you and Damian were dating? Aren’t they supposed to be great detectives?

A/N: OMG I GOT MY FIRST REQUEST. I HOPE I DO RIGHT BY YOU 😤✊🏾 Sorry it took so long. I had a background story about the reader activating/getting her powers here

Word Count: 2.1K+

Warning: kissing, cockblocking, Damian being a dickhead

-You got into the vigilante business much later than the others

-You were brought to the leagues attention after an accident you accidentally caused (see background story for details)

-You already lived in Gotham so they decided it would be best to work under Batman

-Because you were part psychic and could feel peoples emotions

-In the beginning Batman tried pairing you up with a few of the others to too how you would work

-You were relatively new to your powers, especially your element powers

-You’ve had a tiny bit of experience with people emotions but now that they’ve been fully activated, it overwhelming

-That’s why you had a hard time being paired for patrol

-You didn’t want to be a Bat

-You appreciated Batman taking you under his wing but you could stand having the same logo on your chest as 5 other people

-And each of them had very different personalities

-Jason had too much unreleased aggression

-Dick was a bit too chipper for your taste

-Tim was too jittery from the surplus of coffee and lack of sleep

-Stephanie was fine but she would just have random burst of emotions that startled you and you couldn’t deal

-You almost fell of a roof with her cause of that

-Cass was also nice but you couldn’t get too comfortable or else you’d end up in a void of nothingness

-That’s how you ended up fall off a roof

-Luckily Batman caught you and had Damián take you home

-You didn’t snap out of it until the next day

-Damian tried his best to avoid you

-He didn’t trust you

-Especially with your ability to read minds

-He thought you would read his mind and use it against him

-But, as a last resort, you two were paired together

-Damian tried to fight it

-“Little D. At least try for her sake. She’s going through a lot with all these unwanted thoughts and feelings”

-Unwanted?

-“Fine, Grayson. I’ll try but I won’t like it ”

-“Thank you”

-When Bruce told you you were going to be on patrol with Damian you were nervous

-When you first got to the manor, you thought he hated you

-I mean… he probably did

-It wasn’t like you were another kid he was trying to adopt

-You parents were very much active in your life

-They sent you to the manor because they thought being with other people and hero’s your age would help

-Though none of the Bats have powers you would still see the other super powered sidekicks often and learn whatever you can from them

-Surprisingly to both you and Damian, patrol went well

-You could feel Damian had a lot of emotions

-But they were quiet

-Like he was hiding them

-Suppressing them

-You would definitely ask him about it later

-After that patrol you went to talk to Damian but he disappeared

-And everytime you tried talking to him about it something keep getting in the way

-Other than that, over the next few months you two got closer

-Since you were new to the whole vigilante scene you let Damian lead

-Which he appreciated

-His siblings usually didn’t let him

-You two would have some nice conversations during patrol even if they were cut short

-Sometimes you two you just hang out in each others presence in the library or you’d watch Damian paint in the art room he had Bruce make

-You both enjoyed each other’s company

-But his thoughts and emotions confused you

-One night you couldn’t sleep

-Both you and Damian were off from patrol that night

-Making your way to Damian’s room, you knocked on the door

-Damian opened the door before looking at you

-“Grayson, what do-”

-He stopped once he saw you

-He was clad in just pj pants

-You we’re wearing a oversized shirt you cut into a crop top and shorts

-“Hi”

-“It’s late. What are you doing?”

-“I'm sorry, did I wake you?”

-“No. I couldn’t sleep”

-He opened the door wider so you could come

-As you walked in you took it upon yourself to look around a bit, not touching anything

-“Cool swords”

-“Thanks”

-You went to sit near the end of his bed, and he sat in the center, resting his back against some pillows and his headboard

-“Why are you here so late?”

-“I wanted to talk to you about your thoughts and emotions”

-Damian wasn’t look at you before, but now he was

-“What about them?”

-You could hear a slight venom in his voice

-“You’re suppressing your emotions and your thoughts are always against each other. ”

-“So what?”

-“I’m just… worried about you. I want to help you”

-“My thoughts and feelings are none of your concern so you can leave now”

-You were a bit hurt by this

-But you tried something

-You moved yourself closer to him

-You put your hand on top of his and had him feel you emotions

-You could tell by the look on his face that he could feel how genuine you were

-“Fine”

-You we’re glad that he allowed you to help him and you face didn’t hide it

-That entire night you helped him

-At the end you couldn’t help but smile

-“What are you smiling about?”

-Damian was confused

-If you saw what he saw you shouldn’t be smiling

-“You think I’m pretty and you want to kiss me again”

-Of course you saw that

-“It late. You should go to sleep”

-“Wait no. We never got to talk about it but I enjoyed the kiss too”

-Damian kept a straight face but you could feel he like hearing it

-You smiled at him

-“If you enjoyed it that much, we can do it again”

-He took initiative to kiss you

-And you kissed him back

-He pulled you closer so that you were on his lap

-It was nicer than the last time

-Don’t get me wrong, the last time was great but this kiss was way better

-Had more emotion and wasn’t rushed

-You groaned when Damian broke the kiss

-“Let’s go on a date”

-He wasn’t asking

-It was more like a very strong suggestion

-One someone couldn’t say no to

-Not like you would ever say no

-“I’d love that”

-You smiled and kissed him again

-That’s how the two of you started dating

-Since then whenever Damian got in an arguement with his brothers, just one touch from you and he would instantly calm down

-His brothers were grateful

-They figured you had just used you powers to help calm him down

-They thought he opened himself enough to you for you to become best friends

-They weren’t wrong but Damian knew that you would help him get through any negative emotions he had

-They didn’t know that you two were dating though

-It didn’t take Bruce long to figure it out

-He knew the first time you calmed Damian down after a fight with his brothers

-“I know about your relationship and I figure that your parents know”

-You nodded

-“I would just like the be sure that you two are using protection-”

-“Bruce, please. My parents gave me the talk years ago and we both know how babies are made”

-“Ok good”

-Once out of ear shot, Damian smirked and said

-“Glad you didn’t tell we are using protection”

-You rolled your eyes at him and walked away

-Which brings us to now

-It’s the annual Wayne New Years Gala

-You’re wearing a beautiful green dress that matched the accents on Damian’s suit nicely

-By this point you and Damian have been dating for over a year

-There were so many people

-Usually you would have left by now with all the people and their thoughts and emotions, but Bruce asked if you could try to stay the entire duration

-You knew he would ask if it wasn’t important to him

-So you stayed

-It was about hour and a half until midnight when you disappeared

-You were fine speaking with some of the older women and girls your age

-But you drew the line at the persistent boy who kept flirting with you

-You told him you had a boyfriend and didn’t appreciate his constant flirting

-But he didn’t get the hint

-NO MEANS NO

-When he was distracted you slipped away from everyone

-Luckily no one noticed your disappearance but Damian

-You hid in the library

-You couldn’t feel other people or hear their thoughts

-it was nice

-However a opening door broke your peace

-It was your boyfriend

-After a few weeks of dating you and Damian decided to share your presence

-Meaning that you both could faintly feel what the other is feeling and are aware of each others presence

-Once Damian couldn't feel you in the ball room he just followed your presence leading him to the library

-“I don’t know why father insisted on you staying when he knows you can get overwhelmed with all these people”

-You had mild social anxiety before

-You did fine with crowds but after a certain period of time you could do it

-Once your powers activated it got worse

-You could be around remotely large crowds for too long or else your powers might fritz out

-“It was going fine until…it doesn’t matter. Stay here with me”

-Damian sat down on the couch next to you

-Damian didn’t hesitate to agree

-He hated these galas

-Especially the girls throwing themselves at him even after politely turning them down

-“Let’s finish reading that book”

-You suggested

-But Damian had a different

-“Or… I can get my New Years kiss a bit early”

-You couldn’t help but chuckle

-“I like that idea very much Mr Wayne”

-At the same time Dick wondered where you and Damian went

-He got his other 2 brothers to help with the search

-In the library, Damian was on top of you while you kissed each other

-You tugged at Damian’s jacket and tie

-“Take it off ”

-You didn’t have to tell him twice

-Once they were off his went back to kissing you

-So passionately

-So lovingly

-So not what Dick and Tim expected to find

-Jason caught up with them and saw

-“OH MY GOD!”

-That startled you and Damian away from each other

-“What’s going on”

-Steph and Cass came into the library to see what was happening

-She looked at you and Damian and the shocked look of her brothers face

-She laughed

-“Oooh. I see. Did you guys not know?”

-Dick was offended

-“You guys knew”

-Cass let out a simple

-“Of course”

-Steph intervened

-“Bruce was the first, then Cass, and Duke and I”

-Jason was shocked

-“Even Duke knew”

-You could just sit there

-Uhm. We’re right here“”

-Martian Manhunter taught you how to knock people out with your mind

-You could easily do it to his siblings and take Damian to another room and continue where you left off

-Bruce might not like it though

-But who cares

-You have needs

-“Let’s go. Father is most likely expecting us for the countdown”

-You looked to your side a notice Damian had put his jacket back on but left his tie

-You pulled yourself together before standing up

-Damian have you his hand

-“Come on, Beloved”

-You took his hand, and both of you walked out

-And his brothers followed you pestering for answers

-“Here is my youngest son, Damian”

-Saved by the Bruce

-You planned on staying at Damian’s side for the rest of the night

-But Bruce just had to ruin it

-Damian had to give a speech

-It was just 2 minutes before midnight when Damian finished his speech

-“Before I go I’d like to mention my gorgeous girlfriend-”

-The amount of gasps from the crowd was astronomical

-Boy, we’re the tabloids going to love this

-“Y/N L/N”

-You got on the stage next to Damian

-People were recording and cameras were flashing

-You could see the the headlines already

-Damian Wayne No Longer a Bachelor

-Damian Wayne and Y/N? Who Knew?

-“Im am glad to be able to step into the new year with her by my side”

-10

-9

-8

-7

-6

-5

-4

-3

-2

-1

-“HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

-And with that Damian pulled you closer to him and kissed you

-Of course he had to be extra with it and dip you a little

-And yet you still smiled at him

-And he smiled back at you

-You could feel the flashes from the camera and the jealousy radiating of Damian’s fan girls and that boy that kept pestering you

-But you ignored all of that and focused on Damian

-Your Damian

-Your heart and soul

OMG IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG

[lemonsrosesandlavender]

You love "taking advantage of” Rolan in the stock cupboard of Sorcerous Sundries, hidden just out of sight - but with dangerously thin walls you can hear a little too much through.

A brief tease over his cock behind the counter is enough to tell him you need him now, and though once you’re in the cupboard he always complains that he shouldn’t let you do this to him, that you’re an evil seducer who won’t let him do his job - he helpfully bends and shifts to let your hands explore his body and yank open the buttons on his trousers. Oh, this is terrible, you tease him. Such a pent-up Archwizard, so easily taken advantage of, you should be milked more often, such a shame I’ll have to do it for you -

and he gasps his sweet, stilted gasps and tries not to moan, his legs shaking as he clings to the shelves for support.

He’s always trying to get better at stifling his noises, and you’re always trying harder to elicit them, to dance right up to the edge of being overheard.

This little scheme of yours has got just the right amount of danger, and though a few customers seem suspicious of your co-ordinated disappearances, no-one appears to have caught on yet. Which is good, because as much as Rolan loves the idea of humiliation, he might actually have a heart attack if a customer accused him of such debauchery.

Unfortunately, Rolan is even louder than usual today, and in the heat of the moment you can think of nothing else except to grab one of the leather-bound books off the shelf and shove it in his mouth. And even more unfortunately… just as he is on the brink of orgasm, the door’s lock begins to turn -

‘Fuck!’ you gasp, panicking. The book falls from Rolan’s mouth as you both shove your clothes back on, and as the door opens you hastily, thoughtlessly wipe it off and chuck it back on the shelf, just as Cal’s eyes widen in horror.

He bursts into a fit of giggles. ‘Sorry, I didn’t know this was occupied.’

Rolan stammers for words, beetroot-red, and at last lands on blame. ‘You’re not supposed to be working today!’ he hisses.

‘I was just passing through and a customer asked me to check for more stock,’ Cal grins, trying to suppress a laugh. ‘Rolan, you’re always telling me to be more professional!’

‘I am highly professional,’ Rolan insists. ‘We were just… searching for some powdered hyena ear. I will have to go to Bonecloak’s for more.’

And with that, he escapes, leaving you to grin mischievously at Cal like a cat who’s got the cream. Poor Rolan. He’ll get over it soon enough, you think…

… until a few minutes later. As you stand next to an extremely saturnine Rolan, innocently counting scrolls, a customer marches angrily up to you, shaking a book in your face.

Oh no. It’s the book. That must have been what Cal was searching for. And…

‘It has teeth marks in it! I demand a refund!’

‘Teeth marks?’ someone nearby asks. ‘Let me have a look.’

‘No -’

Rolan reaches for the book, but not fast enough. It’s being passed around, and the next person to hold it flashes a curious look at Rolan’s mouth -

‘I’ll take that,’ you say in your best, customer-friendly tone, purloining it from their grasp.

Book refunded, and customers firmly shooed away, you flash a look at your poor, mortified lover, whose tail is lashing angrily by his ankles. The book itself bears quickly fading dents from his front teeth, almost invisible now… and eight perfectly pierced holes, aligned exactly with Rolan’s fangs. Oops.

‘We are never doing that again,' he mutters.

He lasts a month, this time.