#after almost a year of not doing as often

[healpimp]

thats how you can tell that they're medic mains <3<3<3

Remade because I forgot to extend the poll to 1 week lol

Feel free to add context in replies/tags!

I'm nosy and want to know your hours and reasons!

[kiwriteswords]

My Funny Valentine [Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader]

Masterlist (not updated, sorry!)|| Ao3||Word Count: 1.9k|| AN: I have been binge-re-watching The Nanny for the first time since I was a teenager and got to the episode where Fran buys a billboard for Mr. Sheffield after thinking he was her secret admirer. I had to do this for Hotch and Reader!

Tags/Warnings: female reader, BAU reader, will they won't they relationship, Valentine's Day, mentions of Haley, mentions of a creepy police officer, based off an episode of The Nanny, fools in love.

Summary: Given your undeniable chemistry and attraction for one another, when an unsigned card with flowers and a teddy bear shows up on your desk, you assume it's from Hotch. After making a grand gesture for what you thought was in return, you both soon realize the truth.

Ever since you joined the BAU, your interactions with Hotch have been a mixture of professional respect and undeniable chemistry. Over the years, the flirty banter had evolved into a dance of “will they, won't they,” much to the entertainment--and sometimes frustration--of the team. 

Everyone could see the mutual attraction except, it seemed, the two of you.

Being Hotch's subordinate, you treaded carefully, harboring feelings you dared not confess, always secretly hoping he'd be the one to break the professional boundary.

You were younger--not inappropriately so (maybe just a little)...well, enough to make you question if this chemistry was all in your head. Enough questioning to allow these feelings to remain at a standstill--or at least until he broke first. 

This Valentine's Day seemed like any other day at the BAU, but when you arrived at your desk, you found a bouquet of pink carnations and a teddy bear holding a card. Your heart skipped a beat as you read the flirty message. 

"To the one who captures my thoughts as easily as she profiles unsubs. Happy Valentine's Day."

You couldn't help but think it was from Hotch. Carnations and a teddy bear? Not what you would have imagined Hotch picking out, but nonetheless, thoughtful. Unexpected. Thrilling. 

He was finally crossing that line drawn in the sand. The one you blurred and blurred but ultimately never swept away. 

Excitement bubbling up inside you, you rushed to share the news with Penelope Garcia, your go-to confidante for all things romantic and dramatic. The one who had been arguably rooting for you and Hotch more than anyone. 

Maybe it was the hopeless romantic in her, or maybe…just maybe, the proof was there in plain daylight with the way you and Hotch played your games with one another. Like a tennis match of back and forth--over and over. 

“My gosh,” Penelope squealed, looking at the card, “I mean…I can’t believe it. What are you going to do? What are you going to say!?” She leaned forward, capturing your arm, almost to steady her own excitement. 

“I want to do something for him…something nobody’s ever done for him before.” You thought carefully. 

Many would argue that you were…of the dramatic kind. Maybe that’s why you and Penelope got along so easily. Hotch would argue that you were dramatic the most. You often used it to your own advantage with him. 

You knew--although you’d both never admit it--you had Hotch wrapped around your finger so it was easy to use those puppy dog eyes when you didn’t feel like completing a case assignment or if you wanted the bigger room at the hotel. 

“You know,” Penelope pondered, “Now that I think of it,” She scrunched her face, “All of these years here, I’m not sure anyone’s ever left Hotch a Valentine. I mean…I gave him a pink fostered sugar cookie once, but even Haley…I don’t think there was anything here for him.” 

You smirked, raising an eyebrow, “He doesn’t seem like the type that’s going to like a velvet heart-shaped box filled with fruit-filled chocolates.” 

“That man is a closet sweet eater,” Penelope pointed at you, “But to your point, you’ve gotta do something…something grand. Something that will knock his argyle socks off.” 

You snorted, then really thought. Grand. Grand? What would be grand? Then it came to you. 

“I have the best idea.” 

The two of you giggled and brainstormed extravagant ideas to win Hotch's heart, finally settling on a grand gesture that no one could ignore--a billboard confession. You found the idea so wildly romantic, the perfect way to tell Hotch how you felt.

With Penelope's enthusiastic encouragement, you commissioned a billboard on Hotch's route home.

“Be My Valentine, Aaron Hotchner! Love your Y/N” 

However, as you prepared to leave work that evening, you received a call from the local police department asking if you enjoyed the flowers. Your stomach dropped as you recognized the voice--it was the overly friendly officer from your last case, the one Hotch had given a look to the entire time. 

The cheesy teddy bear. The cheap carnations. The corny card. None of that would be Hotch. You wanted to die. Crawl into a ball and die of embarrassment and stupidity, but not until after you got rid of that billboard!

Frantic, you rushed to find Rossi, Derek, and Spencer, blurting out your predicament and the mistake you’d made. They erupted into laughter but saw the urgency of the situation.

"We’ve got to get that billboard down before Hotch drives home!" you exclaimed, your face burning with embarrassment. You paced around the bullpen, looking up to Hotch’s office, then to them, then back up. You ran your hand over your face, stressed. 

Rossi, Spencer, and Derek gathered around you, each wearing an expression that meant business. Derek leaned against his car, arms crossed. "You know, you could just leave that billboard up. It's about time one of you made a move."

Rossi nodded, his wise eyes fixed on you. "We're all tired of the dance, kid. It's not just you suffering from all this uncertainty--Hotch is right there with you. You both need to take that leap."

Spencer chimed in, "Statistically, the likelihood of mutual feelings being reciprocated in situations like these is quite high. You might be pleasantly surprised."

You appreciated their support, but the thought of Hotch seeing the billboard without understanding the context terrified you. You grabbed your car keys and headed to the nearest hardware store. "I just need to fix this before it gets worse," you muttered more to yourself than to them.

At the hardware store, you picked up a bucket of paint and a roller, your hands trembling slightly at the thought of climbing up the billboard. Heights had never been your friend, but today, they seemed a lesser evil compared to the embarrassment of Hotch reading your unintended public declaration.

With the sun setting, you parked your car by the billboard and stared up at the looming structure. Steeling your nerves, you looked up toward the tall ladder that led to a ledge where the freshly painted billboard sat. You wished the service you paid earlier was available after hours to come and take down the work they had done so quickly. 

Each step up made your heart pound louder, but the fear of making a fool of yourself pushed you onward.

Once you reached the top, you positioned yourself to start painting, but a sudden wave of vertigo hit as you peered down. The can of paint slipped from your grip, tumbling down and splattering the ground below with white paint.

You looked up to the sky and raised your hands with defeat and tears forming in your eyes, “Is this some sick joke?!”

Climbing down was even harder, with your hands shaking and tears of frustration starting to blur your vision. Just as you reached the last few rungs, a pair of steady hands gently guided you down. You almost jumped out of your skin, only to turn and see Hotch, his face filled with concern.

"Hey, it's okay," he soothed, keeping his hands on your shoulders to steady you.

You took a deep breath, wiping away a stray tear, turning as you took your last step off the ladder. He steadied you on the last few steps down, his touch reassuring.

"I'm so sorry, Hotch. There’s been a huge misunderstanding," you began, your voice a mix of embarrassment and relief. "I thought those flowers and the teddy bear were from you, and Penelope and I--we…I just got carried away."

Hotch gave you a small, understanding smile. "Emily and JJ told me there was a surprise waiting for me on the freeway home. I left early to see what it was." The last thing you expected was Hotch’s calm voice breaking through your flustered apologies. 

Your heart sank, imagining what he must have thought seeing that message. "I was trying to cover it up before you could see it. I didn’t want you to find out like this." You gestured up to the brightly colored billboard with what felt like the most embarrassing thing in the world displayed for everyone and their mother to see. 

“You don’t need to apologize for anything,” His gaze softened as he looked up at the message, then back to you. "I saw the billboard," he admitted a hint of awe in his voice. "Nobody has ever done anything quite like that for me. It was...unexpected, certainly, but kind in a way only you could manage."

Your heart fluttered, surprise etching across your features. "You liked it?" you asked, voice barely above a whisper, unsure if your ears were playing tricks on you.

"I loved it," he corrected gently, his hands still resting lightly on your shoulders. "You have a knack for the dramatic, but it’s one of the many reasons I..." His voice trailed off, and he hesitated, his eyes searching yours for a reaction. The pause was palpable, every second stretching longer than the last until finally, he continued, "It’s one of the many reasons I love you."

The world seemed to stop spinning as his words hung in the air. "You love me?" you repeated, your voice a mix of hope and disbelief. Hotch reached up to brush a stray hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear. His hand lingered, cupping your cheek gently. Your hand reached up to cover his, leaning into his touch. 

Hotch nodded, a soft chuckle escaping him, as if it was common knowledge, like you should already know it--or maybe he realized he should have already said it. 

"Yes, I do. And I think it’s about time I said it."

Emotions swirled within you--relief, joy, and a love that had been quietly simmering for too long. It all bubbled to the surface as you stepped closer, reducing the space between you. "I love you too, Hotch," you confessed, your voice steady with conviction.

His smile was all the encouragement you needed. You both leaned in and under the soft glow of the streetlights and the shadow of the billboard, your lips met in a kiss that sealed the confessions of the day. The kiss was gentle at first, exploratory as if both of you were still gauging the reality of the moment. But as certainty took over, it deepened, affirming the years of unspoken feelings and flirtatious banter.

As you both pulled away, Hotch's eyes twinkled with a mixture of contentment and mischief. "Next time," he said with a playful grin, "I'll be the one buying flowers; you’ll know they’re from me. I wouldn’t dare buy you carnations, and they won’t come with a cheap teddy bear."

Your laughter filled the air, light and free, as you both made your way back to your cars, the billboard forgotten but its message now etched in both your hearts.

The next morning, as you walked into the BAU, you stood surprised. There, on your desk, stood two dozen long-stem roses in a vase, their crimson petals vibrant against the mundane backdrop of your office. Attached to the vase was a card, Hotch’s neat handwriting spelling out a message that was both flirty and utterly him: 

"For the record, I prefer dramatic gestures that involve flowers on days other than just February 14th. Here’s to many more, just the way we like them. --A."

The smile that spread across your face lingered long into the day, as did the warmth in your heart, knowing the dance of “will they, won't they” had transformed into a harmonious “finally, we did.”

Tag List: @zaddyhotch @estragos @todorokishoe24 @looking1016  @khxna @rousethemouse @averyhotchner @reidfile @bernelflo @lover-of-books-and-tea @frickin-bats @sleepysongbirdsings @justyourusualash @person-005 @iyskgd @hiireadstuff @kcch-ns @alexxavicry @superlegend216

[h0efor2ho]

Two Is Better Than One

Seungcheol X Reader X Mingyu

WC : 4.4K

TW : Roomates to FWB, threesum, unprotected ( wrap it up ) Anal, Vaginal sex, Fingering, Oral, Very very close to male on male, double penetrate, talks of masturbation, talks of toy use and listening through walls.

You jump at the sound of the door bell of your apartment ringing. "Piizzzaaa's Heeereee" you shout as you answer the door. Quickly paying the delivery driver you make your way into the kitchen. "I can smell the garlic knots from down the hall" Mingyu says as he enter the kitchen behind you. "Of course you can" you say rolling your eyes. You and Mingyu became quick friends back in freshman year when he coincidently was a pizza delivery driver. For two months straight he would deliver pizzas to you almost every day. The pair of you quickly bonding over your shared love of movies, after all he was a film major. "Where's 'Coups?" you ask as you open the pizza box.

Like on que you hear footsteps as Seungcheol rounds the corner into the kitchen "Right here" he smiles at you. His brown hair clinging to his forehead, wet, indicating he just finished up in the shower. Mingyu had introduced you to Seungcheol aka S.Coups aka Coups as you called him, toward the end of your freshman year of college. The two of them were gym buddies as they put it, working out together everyday. You and 'Coups clicked right away over your love for literature. The two of you often having conversations about the meaning of whatever book you were reading. The three of you became inseparable so it was a no brainer when your second year rolled around, that you should all live together and here you were two years later, all still getting along. 

You smile up at Seungcheol as he makes his was over to you "How many slices you want 'Coups?" reaching up to grab another plate from the cabinet. You cant quite reach it, stretching a bit farther before you feel an arm wrap around your bare thighs, another pressed to the XL hoodie on your stomach as Mingyu comes up behind you to lift you up. "There you go shorty" he teases as he places you back on the ground after you grab the plate. "I'm not that much shorter than you" you laugh back at him, knowing it was a flat out lie. You stood at 5'5' and Mingyu stood at 6'2". You quickly hand Mingyu and Seungcheol a plate and make one for yourself. None of you bather to sit at the table you have, opting to stand around the kitchen. Eating and talking until you were all done.��

"What are we doing tonight?" You ask Seungcheol as you wash the dishes you all used. It was roommate night. Once a week the three of you had a night where one of you picked a activity for all of you and tonight was Seungcheol's turn. "We just got that new video game. I was thinking we could play that tonight" he says as he helps dry the dishes and put them away. "Sure that sounds good, I'll make some popcorn" Mingyu says with a smile "You guys know I suck at those things" you laugh. "Dont worry we'll help you, right Mingyu?" Seungcheol says looking over at his roommate. "Absolutely" He says sweetly to you. "Fine" you sigh, "I'll go get the blankets" you say exiting the kitchen.

After another 15 minutes you were all gathered in the living room. You and Seungcheol on the couch while Mingyu opted to sprawl out on the floor. Mingyu and Seungcheol go first to get a feel for the game. All you could tell was it was some kind of racing game and it looked like Seungcheol was beating Mingyu. After two more rounds of Seungcheol winning he looked over at you "Alright your turn Y/N" he says handing you the controller. Taking it from him you look at it in your hand "Sooo what button is what?" you ask. Both Seungcheol and Mingyu laugh "Don't worry I'll help you, come here" Seungcheol says as he scoots back on the couch, patting the space in-between his open legs. You get up and perch yourself on the edge of the couch in the middle of him. 

"Come here silly" he says as his hand snakes around your waist to pull you back against his chest. "I need to be able to help you with the buttons" he says from behind you. Both his hands come to lay onto of yours on the controller. You cant help the butterflies that erupt in your stomach at his touch. His hands are soft and yet firm over your skin. You'd be lying if you said you had never thought of your roommate in that way, both of them. You cant count how many nights you'd lied awake in bed, touching yourself wishing it was one of them, whispering their names as you came all over your fingers. You'r very much aware your sitting in between his legs in just an oversized hoodie and knee high socks. Your breath hitching as Seungcheol's head comes to rest on your shoulder.

"Okay so this is how you go" he says as he guides your finger over the red button "And this is how you stop" this time his finger coming over the blue button. "Mingyu" he calls to your other roommate on the floor. Mingyu's head snapping up, an unreadable look spreads across his face as he looks at the two of you "Lets do a practice run first kay, so she can get used to the controls" Mingyu shakes his head yes before tearing his gaze from the two of you to the TV. You play two rounds with Seungcheol's fingers on yours to help you. By the third round he tells you you're on your own. His hand dropping from yours as the game starts. You were so focused on the game you didn't realize Seungcheol's hand had dropped to your thigh right above your knee. 

It wasn't until the round was over did you notice he was drawing little circles on your skin with his thumb. "Your to tense" You hear Seungcheol's voice in your ear "Relax" he says as he pulls you back flush against his chest and leans back into the couch. Your hoodie ridding up on your thighs a bit as you lean into him, your legs parting slightly with the motion. His hand on your leg begins to rub up and down your thigh, slowly dipping in between your legs. Slowly getting higher and higher with each pass toward your center. Your mind is reeling, you'r barley able to focus on the game, pressing the wrong buttons causing you to lose control of your car on screen and crash. "Pretty, you doing okay over there?" Mingyu says, turning to look at you and Seungcheol again. 

"She's doing just fine" Seungcheol says into your ear "She's just a little tense is all" His other hand comes down on your other thigh rubbing up and down. "Aww, I think we should help her relax. Don't you think 'Coup" Mingyu smiles up at the two of you. Seungcheol's hands swipe up again, sliding into the crack of your thighs, pausing dangerously close to your clothed center, squeezing the fat of your legs. You feel his hot breath on the shell of your ear "Would you like that Y/N?" he asks. "You want me and Mingyu to help you unwind?" You feel him press his lips to the back of your neck as his hands begin to move again. You don't trust your voice, all you can do is nod your head yes. You hear both men chuckle as you feel Seungcheol's hands pry your legs open, throwing each one over his to lock them in place. 

His hands sliding up the inside of your thighs, pausing right where your leg meets your body "Say Mingyu" he calls over to the dark haired man "Tell me, how wet is she" a shiver runs down your spine as Mingyu crawls his way over to sit in front of you. His face nestled in-between your legs. "Mmmm very Cheol" He says as his hands trace the same path Seungcheol's did up your legs. "Her little green lace panties have a nice big wet spot" Mingyu says looking up at you licking his lips. "Just as I thought" Seungcheol coos from behind you. His hand comes to run up and down the length of your covered slit, gliding over the damp crotch of your panties. "At first we thought you were just comfortable with us, walking around in those little skirts or things like this. Your long shirts with no pants on" 

His long finger finds your clit through your lace underwear, rubbing small circles into it "But then we heard you" Mingyu add's, Your eyes snap open to look down at him as your chest heaves. "Oh yes that's right isn't it Cheol" he says as he takes his thumb and runs it over your slick covered panties. "Oh yes Min'. You see Y/N the walls are thin so we hear everything" You swallow thickly "Ev-everything?" you question. Thinking back to all the night you had touched yourself, their names falling from your lips. "Yes pretty" Mingyu says before placing a kiss to your inner thigh. "Every time you called our names" he says "Every time you turned on that little toy of yours, we heard the tell tail buzz" Seungcheol whispers in your ear. "Every squash of your wet pussy begging to be filled up by more then your little fingers" Mingyu add's 

A shaky moan leaves your lips as Seungcheol applies more pressure to the circles hes drawing on your clit. "Min', I think she's very much enjoying this" Seungcheol smirks down at his friend "I think your right Cheol" he replies back pushing his thumb into your panty covered slit. He watches as his finger separates your folds behind the fabric, feeling the wetness seep through. You cant help your self anymore, you slowly start to roll your hips, grinding against their fingers. You hear Seungcheol let out a low groan from behind you. He pressed his hips up into your back, your ass rolling over him and his now very hard, very large cock. You let out a little gasp. "Look what you've done Y/N" he says as his lips find your neck as the same time Mingyu's meet the inside of your thighs.

You let out a whimper, your skin burning with each of their touches. "More" you whine as your head falls back onto Seungcheol's shoulder. "What do you say?" Seungcheol asks, voice muffled by the flesh of your neck hes sucking on. "Pleaseee" you say, tilting your head forward to look down at Mingyu in-between your legs. "Want more please" He detaches his mouth from your thigh "What do you think Cheol? Should we give her what she wants?" He asks cocking his head to. the side. "I think so." He says "Lets see how good she can be. Help me take these off" He says to Mingyu as his hand comes up to grip the band of your panties. He slides them down your hips to your thighs before Mingyu takes over and slides them the rest of the way off. Tossing them across the room somewhere. 

Mingyu's hands coming to rest on your knees as he pushes your legs wide open, putting you on display for them. He watched as Seungcheol dipped his fingers in between your fold, gathering your slick on his fingers before he brought that finger up to your clit. Gliding over the sensitive bundle of nerves with ease. "Put those thick fingers to use Mingyu" he says horsely to your roommate. You feel Mingyu take one of his fingers and circles it around your entrance, coating his finger tip in your juice before pushing into your tight hole. "ughh" you moan out as you feel him enter you. "You like that pretty?" He ask's looking up at you "Mmhmm" you shake your head yes as you slightly roll your hips, willing him to move inside of you. 

He slowly starts to pump his finger in and out of you a few times before adding another finger. You let out a whimper at the stretch "He's got to prep you to take our cocks princess" Seungcheol whispers to you, his words causing you to let out a moan. You feel his hand slink around your body, tugging up your hoodie and splaying his hand over your stomach. His hand hot against your skin as he trails it up your body before finding your chest. "Mmmm" he moans out "Min' look at what a bad girl she is" He says as he lifts your shirt up and over your head exposing you "No bra huh baby" he says "Its like she's just begging us to play with her" Mingyu says. "Is that what you want Y/N?" Seungcheol asks as his hand increases the pace on your clit, Mingyu does the same with his fingers, curling them upward to hit the spongy spot inside your walls. "You want us to play with you princess?" 

"Yesss" you cry out, the coil in your stomach is being to tighten as they continue exploring your body, Seungcheol has a finger rubbing circles on your clit as his other hand is cupping your left breast, slipping his thumb over your nipple. Mingyu has two fingers buried in your pussy, curling his fingers hitting your g-spot with each push and pull. His other hand reached up twisting and pulling your other nipple. Your teetering on the edge of your release when Seungcheol's hand comes up and wraps around your throat. "Now be a good girl and cum for us yea" that's all it took to send you over the edge. Letting out a loud moan as your walls squeezing around Mingyu's fingers, trying to suck him in and keep him there as you coated them in your juice. Seungcheol continued to draw lazy circles on you as you came down from your high, Mingyu's fingers slowed significantly. 

He slipped his fingers out of your wet hole, holding them up in front of you, spreading his fingers to watch your cum spread across them. Looking up he starts to bring his hand up, past your head and right into Seungcheol's waiting mouth. You turn your head to watch him sucks your juice off of Mingyu's fingers. Both boys humming at the sensation before Mingyu pulls them out with a pop. You lean your head back on Seungcheol's shoulder as you try and catch your breath, already a little tired from your first orgasm. "Help me with these" you hear Seungcheol say before you feel him lifting your hips. You look down and watch as Mingyu is slipping off Seungcheol's sweats and boxers to his ankles, before your placed back on Seungcheol's lap. His very hard dick now pressed up against your wet center. 

He reaches around grabbing the base of his cock before, he lightly slaps it against your cunt before hes pulling himself away from your pussy. "Min', help her" he says "Gladly" Mingyu says as his hands come to push your knees up, his hands behind them as he slightly lifts you up so Seungcheol can line his long cock up with your entrance before slowly lowering you down. You gasp as you feel the thick head of Seungcheol's cock push pass the tight first ring of muscles before you fully sink down on him. "Oh fuck" you cry out as he bottoms out in you. He gives you a second to adjust to his size before hes hooking his arms under your legs and lifting you up. He starts to thrust, a slow and gentle pace at first. "You must like that huh pretty" Mingyu coos up at you, his pants now around his thighs, his hand gripping his big dick as he lazily pumps himself. "Your already leaving a ring of cream around the base of his cock" 

"Is she now?" Seungcheol's asks in a strained voice from behind you. He's trying to be nice and hold back his assault on your pussy. He doesn't want to break you just yet. "Clean her off Min'" he coos down at him. Mingyu wastes no time attaching his mouth to your clit, sucking it into his mouth, his tongue lapping at your bud like it was the last thing he was going to do. The sounds spilling from your mouth keep getting louder and louder. You look down at the head of dark hair as his tongue swipes across your clit, before he pull back. He looks down at his hand, spitting into it before placing it back on his cock and pumping. Looking up he holds eye contact with you as he leans back in, his tongue meeting the lip of your pussy that's wrapped around Seungcheol's dick. Licking slowly collecting your release that's collected there. You watch as he laps at your folds while Seungcheol pounds into you flattens his tongue and licking till he finds your clit again. 

"Fuckk" You hear Seungcheol breathes out into your shoulder "You must like that with the way you're clamping on my cock so hard". He picks up his pace causing you to cry out as the tip of his cock slams into your cervix with each thrust. Your head leaned forward as you watch Mingyu lick you over and over again. Clean your release from your folds as Seungcheols pounds into you, before flicking his tongue up over your clit. A sensation growing deep in your stomach has you worried. " 'Gyu wait..." you cry out "Som' thin's wrong" you slur out as your body starts to shake in his arms. "Your good baby girl" he coos to you "take it baby, you can do it" Your legs are shaking, trying to clamp shut as Mingyu attaches his mouth to your clit again, sucking you in. "Fuckkk" you cry, "Please 'Coups... I'm gonna pee" you cry, tears pricking the corner of your eyes "Gyu" you cry, looking down at him, His eyes shifting up to meet yours. A smirk spreading on his face, he detaches his mouth from you but brings his fingers up. You watch as he pushes the small hood of skin back, exposing your swollen nub to him. His mouth coming back down, his tongue connecting with it. 

The second his tongue swipes over your nerve you are seeing white. You let out a strangled cry as your eyes roll back in your head, your back arching as your gush clear liquid all over Seungcheol's cock. "Fuck princess" Seuncheol grunts "Fucking squirting for us to" he slows his thrusts to allow you to come down once more. You'r panting, vision blurry from the tears in your eyes. Your hands gripping Seungcheol's arms, leaving little half moon shapes in them from your nails. Your body is slumped back against his chest. Your gasping as Seungcheol lowers your legs. "You are doing so good princess" he coos into your ear. Lifting your hips he slowly eases out of you. You whimper at the feeling of emptiness. "Don't worry, we're not done yet" he chuckles as he turns you to face him. A leg thrown on each side of him as you straddle his waist. Sinking back down on his hard length, a moan slipping past your lips. His hands coming up to cup your face as he leans in, gently pressing his lips to yours. His kiss is sweet and calming. 

As Seungcheol is distracting you with his sweet kisses, you feel Mingyu's hands on your ass. Spreading your cheeks apart, you hear the sound before you feel it. He hocks a glob of warm spit right on your puckered hole. You jerk and whimper in surprise when you feel his finger swipe against your hole. "Shhh. Its okay princess, he's just prepping you okay" Seungcheol coos while cupping your face. You nod your head in agreement before leaning forward to rest your head on his shoulder. Seungcheol looks up at Mingyu and gives him a nod to continue. You feel Mingyu swirling his finger over your puckered hole before he gently pushes in. Your spine straightens a bit at the sensation, a small whimper muffled by Seungcheol's shoulder. His hands running up and down your back, while you cockwarm him. After a few minutes Mingyu has successfully inserted two fingers into your ass, scissoring them to spread you open. 

He pulls them out and quickly lines his cock up. Rubbing the bulbous head of his cock against your hole, coating it in his pre before he slowly pushed it in. "Ohh Fuck" you moan out as he stretches you open. His hand coming up to grip your shoulder. "You okay pretty?" he asks as he stalls, letting you get used to the tip of his cock in your asshole. "Mmhmm" you hum out as you shake your head "Please Gyu.. fill me up pleaseee" you whine out to him. He wastes no time in sinking the rest of his length into you. A string of curses leaves his lips as your hole wraps around him, hugging him like you were made for him. "Such a good girl" Seungcheol coos as he kisses your forehead. "Were gonna move now okay" "Please" you choke out. With out another words Mingyu is pulling out slowly till just his tip is in you. As he pushes back in seungcheol begins to pull his cock out of your pussy till again just the tip is in you. They work in tandem when one pulls out the other thrusts in so you are never empty. It doesn't take long for them to pick up their pace.

"Fuck yesss right there please" you cry out, your body jilting with each thrust of their cocks. "Yeah, you like this pretty" Mingyu asks as he grips your shoulder. "You like being full of our cocks huh princess" Seungcheol ask's. You nod your head feverishly. Your hips rolling in time with their thrust's, your breasts jiggling with each push as they are smashed against Seungcheol's chest. His hands come around your body, one palm on each of your ass cheeks as he pulls them apart, spreading you open for Mingyu. "Fuck dude" Mingyu moans out, his eyes watching as his cock disappears inside of you "She's swallowing me so well" His hips slamming into your ass with each thrust. "I know" Seungcheol says looking up at him "I can feel you inside her" he grunts out. "Harder" You cry out "Please harder" your hands gripping Seungcheol's shoulder as the boys thrust up harder and harder into you. 

"Fuck princess" Seungcheol grunts "Your clenching around me so tight I'm not gonna last much longer" "Me either pretty" Mingyu adds in "Your ass is so tight" You sit up and lean back, your back now met with Mingyu's chest. Your hands coming up to twist and pull on your nipples in Seungcheol's face. "Fuck yeah just like that baby girl, play with yourself for us. Show us how bad you want us" He grunts out as you play with yourself for them, Mingyu's head resting on your shoulder watching you. "Open" he says as he reaches his hand forward and places two fingers in seungcheol's mouth, coating his fingers with his saliva before pulling them out and trailing them down to your puffy clit. He presses into your sensitive bud and starts to rub circles. Your body begins to jerk. "oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck!!" you chant as your body rushes toward another orgasm. Seungcheol leans forward pushing your hand away before latching his mouth onto your nipple. Sucking it into his mouth before gently clamping his teeth down on it and flicking it with his tongue. 

Thats all you need. You vault over the edge. Your body convoluting above them as both of your holes contract and squeeze them. Their names spilling from your lips in a mantra of need. "Oh fuck" Mingyu cries "I cant hold it anymore, I'm gonna cum" His thrusts start to falter. "Where do you want me to cum pretty" he grunts out, very obviously trying to hold off his release. "In me" you whine "please want both you to fill me up" "Shit" you hear Mingyu whines as his hips slam into you and still. You can feel him twitching inside of you as he paints the walls of your asshole white with his cum. The sensation of feeling Mingyu's cock twitching through your thin walls sends Seungcheol over the edge to. "fuck, fuck, fuckkk" he grunt out as his hips still as well. He dumps ropes of hot cum deep into your tight cunt. "Holly shit" he breaths out into the side of your neck. 

Mingyu grips your hips as he slowly eases himself out. You hiss at the soreness left behind. "I'm sorry" he says as he's pressing light kisses onto your back and shoulder blades. "Its okay Min'" you breath out. You grip the back of the couch as you begin to lift yourself up off of Seungcheol, his hands coming to your hips to help you unsheathe his softening cock from your pussy. He guides you back down onto his lap, cradling you as he grabs a blanket to wrap around you. You nestle your head into the crook of his neck as he hugs you to his body. Mingyu coming to sit next to you, rubbing your back. "You did amazing Y/N" Seungcheol says as he kisses the top of your head. 

"Yeah, you took both of us so well" Mingyu adds. You look up smiling at both of them. "I'm so glad I have the both of you" you say to them. "For as long as you want, right Seungcheol" Mingyu says before kissing your cheek "Right" Says Seungcheol "Min', why don't you go start a bath for her so she can relax, while I go heat the oven, I'll make cookies" He smiles up at his friend before he left the room. Seungcheol lifts and places you on the couch gently before exiting for the kitchen. There you sat naked, with both your roommates cum leaking out of both your holes. You smile to yourself, realizing the next roommate night was your night to pick the activity, and you knew exactly what the three of you would be doing.

[nylauninterrupted]

CL16 x Reader [The Vampire who Enjoyed Brownies]

before reading: I'm getting back into writing, so this might lack depth, please be patient with me<3 As for requests, you can still send them in, I'm just slow at working through them! Love, Nyla

summary: A handsome man moved in next door. After he introduced himself you two clicked, to the point where you'd often hang out after work. One evening you brought him brownies and came across a teacup with bloody residue in his sink...

content warnings: vampire!Charles, biting, descriptions of anatomy, mentions of blood, blowjob, smut smut smut, unprotected sex, dom!Charles, non proofread

word count: 3672

We've all heard of vampires. Vile, stealthy creatures, lurking in the shadows, craving, yearning for the blood of innocent humans. Their claws are sharp and twisted, making them perfect to ravage the human body. Their teeth are rotten and yellow, their fangs make them unable to close their mouth fully.

They (very conveniently) only come out at night, providing the best solution to children's curiosity, causing them to be scared to come out from under the covers, until dawn. At least in my day it worked, making the girls from the countryside frightened of even taking a step out the door after midnight.

Well, actual vampires are slightly different, from the tales we have been told before bed for centuries. They certainly do come out during the day. Their nails aren't exactly claw-like, most of them actually take care of them very well. Their teeth is like any other, the fangs appearing only when they feel the need to feed.

Vampires are more subtle than stories say, ravaging people's bodies by sinking their hands in their guts is a bit too messy for them. Not every vampire's goal is to kill the victim. Some are actually quite tame, choosing to find a lover that will understand their nature and feeding on them occasionally.

Animal blood is the trend right now, as morality and awareness of human emotion increased over the years.

It's a common misconception that vampires feed on blood only. In reality, they need different kinds of nutrition just like we do, just accompanied by a bit of hemoglobin. My boyfriend for example is a fan of brownies.

When a guy moved into the apartment next to yours, the one that had been empty for at least a couple of months, you didn't think much about it. Why would you, really?

You just got off work when he knocked on your door and introduced himself. His stance was a bit awkward and looked uncomfortable. It took a few minutes of chatting before his shoulders relaxed.

His name was Charles, and he was a bit older. He looked about twenty-seven, dressed in an elegant way, almost old-fashioned; you've only seen him wearing a hoodie once. Otherwise, his casual was most men's elegant. Which you appreciated, really; the turtlenecks, coats, and occasional necklaces complemented his beauty well.

You exchanged numbers, and all was well. The texts you sent to him were always sweet and polite. His responses were always punctuated, yet still quite charming.

Everything worked out fine between the two of you; you were a bit surprised to have a neighbour who took time to get to know you and wanted to spend time with you. You didn't mind really, especially considering your way to destress—whenever you felt on edge, you'd whip up some baked goods or some kind of dish.

It became your routine to send a quick text to Charles, proposing to have a bite. Although now, thinking about it, your choice of words was quite ironic.

So there you were, on a quiet and rainy Tuesday evening, knocking on your now favourite neighbour's door.

"I'll be right there!" His soft voice sounded from behind the door. You smiled to yourself, biting the inside of your lip a little. You found him very charming and felt comfortable around him, to the point where you looked forward to spending some time with him after work.

He opened the door, standing in front of you in some simple jeans paired with a white shirt and a long-sleeve beige polo over it. It looked simple, yet he wore it so well.

"Hi," he spoke, his smile audible in his voice. He enjoyed the evenings spent with you as well. More than you knew.

"Hi," you replied in the same manner, a smile forming on your face. "I made brownies."

His face lit up visibly as he looked at the plate of freshly baked brownies that you were holding. He smiled and looked back at your face, admiring it for a second or two.

"Would you like to come in?" he asked, taking the opportunity to spend more time with you and get to know you better. He grew quite fond of you over these past few weeks.

"I'd really like that." You smiled and walked in. He closed the door behind her while you went to the kitchen and set the brownies down on the counter.

He clearly didn't expect a visit tonight; his apartment was a bit more messy than usual. You didn't mind, though; you smiled a bit at some unfinished work sitting on the table next to his laptop.

Just as Charles walked into the kitchen, you turned towards the sink. Seeing your movement, his eyes widened. He sped up, trying to take your attention away from it.

"No, wait..." he started, his voice filled with sudden desperation, just as you looked down into it. You saw a pretty teacup with some dark residue at the very bottom of it.

"Don't worry, your kitchen is not that messy," you replied reassuringly, thinking that he is just worried that you might judge him for the mess.

Just as he worried, you leaned a bit towards the sink, intending to wash the cup and help him out a little, when a metallic scent hit you. It was weirdly familiar, and something in your mind clicked as your fingertips locked on the teacup's rim.

You looked back at Charles and saw something close to fright in his expression. There was sheer anxiety present in his green eyes, making them seem darker than usual. He didn't try to stop you anymore; it was too late; you both knew that.

You brought the teacup closer to your nose, taking a whiff, to make sure that was the source of the smell. It was easy to identify the remnants of the liquid in it as blood. You couldn't mistake it for anything else.

He closed his eyes, trying to calm down. He half expected you to run by the time he opened them again. He didn't dare to hope for anything besides fear from you. But once he did open them, he found you still there, standing in his kitchen, with a teacup in your hand.

"It's animal blood," he spoke quietly, with a soft pleading to it. "I promise you. I can explain."

You turned around and started washing the teacup for him, without saying anything just yet. You didn't know what to say after all. It was hard to believe that your neighbour would drink blood. He wasn't a psycho, you knew that, which is why there was only one possible explanation for it.

"I'm... I need blood to survive." Charles admitted, watching you as you moved in his kitchen, "I am a vampire. I'm sorry."

You paused and turned back to look at him. You still didn't understand the situation; maybe you just couldn't comprehend it. But despite a reasonable weariness you felt, you also trusted your own instinct. And your instinct was that Charles isn't a bad person.

"Why are you sorry?" You asked, "It's not like it's your fault, no? I mean, I didn't find you sucking someone dry or anything; it's... It's just a teacup. With animal blood."

Charles looked at you with surprise, disbelief almost. He never would have expected this level of understanding from anyone. Anyone. Even though he considered you a friend and a good neighbour, he couldn't even imagine that you would be okay with what he was.

"You're... I didn't expect you to be... Okay with it. Not just like that." He spoke, looking at you with a newfound kind of fondness. Sure, you were cute before and your personality was great, but this... This sort of behaviour just made him like you more.

"So... do you only like blood and accept the brownies out of politeness, or are they actually enjoyable?" you asked, in an attempt to put him at ease

He read your intentions correctly and smirked a little, letting out a breathy, amused laugh, with slight relief in it as well.

"They are absolutely spectacular. I promise." Charles smiled, tilting his head at you, taking in the view. He couldn't get enough of you. Your smiles, words, all of it. To him, you were as beautiful and as important as the sun was to the moon.

"I expected you to run," he admitted, his eyes softening a bit as he kept looking in your eyes, while his shoulders began to relax slowly, the anxiety finally leaving his body.

"I like spending time with you too much to pass up on it just because of vampirism." You made a joke without much thinking, not realising how... intimate your words might have sounded.

"Oh, really?" Charles asked, a smirk appearing on his face once more. "You like me that much?" 

You hesitated, looking away for a moment. You just found out that Charles, your handsome, sweet neighbour who you grew so fond of, also happened to be a vampire. And strangely enough, you didn't mind it.

'To hell with' it'—you thought.

"More than you know," you answered, your voice growing more serious and genuine, as you gazed back into his eyes again. Charles's expression changed in a similar way as yours; he understood what you were getting at.

"Do you have something to tell me?" He asked in a low, soft voice, taking a couple of slow, careful steps towards you, as if testing the waters for now.

"I don't know," you replied, taking a small step towards him as well. "How would you react if I did?"

Charles's eyes never left yours, not even for a second. It was as if you were the only thing that ever existed. Everything else just didn't matter in that moment.

"I'd be thrilled," he responded shamelessly, getting closer, their bodies very close to one another. He was now looking down at you, the height difference being more obvious, as you were in close proximity.

"Would you like to have a proper date with me?" you asked, deciding not to beat around the bush. You wanted him. You wanted him badly. "With the possibility of a relationship in mind."

Charles's face lit up as well as he took one last step closer to you, completely erasing the gap between you. He placed his hands on your arms, looking deep into your eyes.

"I would love that," he answered, smiling at you, "And can I kiss you?"

"Just kiss me?" you asked, raising an eyebrow, as you used a hair clip to put your hair up. You gave him a knowing smile, making him a bit surprised. He didn't expect you to be that confident.

"While I would love to have you, I don't have any condoms at hand. I didn't exactly prepare for this." He murmured, walking closer and nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck.

"I was asking in case you would like to bite me," you laughed quietly, "but I guess sleeping together wouldn't be so bad either. I'm on the pill."

Charles opened his eyes and leaned away to take a closer look at you. His olive skin flushed just slightly; he looked embarrassed.

"Ah. Sorry, I didn't mean to..." He started speaking, not wanting to make you feel like all he wanted with you was sex.

"I know, Charlie," you interrupted him firmly. "I'm not worried about that. Besides... I wouldn't tell you about the pill if I didn't want to entertain your idea."

"Aren't you uncomfortable though? Having sex with a vampire, who could very well only want your body and blood..." Charles spoke, knowing how most people would perceive this situation.

"I know that is not the case. Besides... Even if it was, who says you'd be the only one getting something out of it?" You whispered, smiling faintly as you reached out to touch his arm. You began rubbing small circles on it, your eyes focused on him entirely.

"You're..." he began, eyeing your fingers for a second. "More confident than I imagined. I can't say it isn't a turn-on."

Your eyes were like little firecrackers, shining in the dimly lit kitchen. Your lips had a shade of raspberries from a lip tint you applied right before knocking on his door. You were simply breathtaking.

"Uh-huh." You smirked, getting even closer, almost touching his chest. "What else about me turns you on, then?"

Despite your bold words, your voice remained ever so gentle and soft, melodic almost. It was soothing and comfortable, a stark contrast to what was slowly turning into dirty talk.

"Your eyes are nice." Charles whispered, making the move to finally make your bodies touch. "So pretty... And so deep... I could get lost in them."

His touch grew confident as his fingers slipped under your shirt, and his large warm hands began massaging the slightly cold skin on your back, making you shiver.

"Don't get me started on your face," he continued in a low, husky voice. "Such a pretty little thing... So young, yet it feels like your beauty is eternal... I wonder what it would look like, twisted in pleasure..."

"You could always find out," you replied cheekily, playing with his small silver necklace. "I don't mind." 

Charles eyed your fingers wrapped around the chain around his neck and gently grabbed your wrist before putting it close to his lips. Conveniently, your blouse had bell sleeves, so he had immediate access to your skin. He kept looking at you as he began planting small kisses, from your palm to your arm, getting closer and closer to you. 

As his lips inched closer and closer to your neck, his hands found their way on your back again, only this time Charles swiftly untied your corset blouse before carefully sliding it off you, leaving your torso in only a bra.

"You smell delicious," he murmured, burying his head in your neck again. "So delicious... Is that vanilla I smell?"

"Yeah," she replied, and before she could say anything else, she let out a moan as Charles started leaving small bites on her, being careful not to go too far over her cleavage.

He wasn't about to make you walk around with a bloody neck, not to mention the damage he could potentially cause if he got too excited.

"Why... Why don't you bite me properly?" She whispered breathily, making him look up from her neckline.

"I have never bitten a human before," Charles answered calmly. "It can have some... side effects, you see."

"What... kind of side effects?"

"The kind that will make you beg me to fuck you. If I get too excited, my body will release an aphrodisiac," he replied, looking at you with slightly darkened eyes.

"Well... We did kind of seal the deal already, no? I'm curious how it'd feel, and I am sure you are as well."

"It's... We don't know each other well; I do not want to force you to have sex with me." Charles exhaled.

"Charlie, you have my consent before anything happens. You didn't bite me yet, and I am fully aware of the consequences of it. Don't you want to, just a little bit?"

Charles felt his restraints crumbling. He tried to resist, knowing how powerful the aphrodisiac was. But having your eager consent, thinking about the way it'd feel to sink his fangs into you... It was just too much for him.

He felt your blood calling, whispering to him. Your veins seemed to be pulsing. You didn't only smell delicious; you looked like it. Charles closed his eyes, feeling the faint scent of vanilla again.

Without saying anything else, he got closer to you, gently grabbing your shoulders to keep you in place. You did not move, standing there in anticipation as he examined your neck, pinpointing where your jugular veins were.

If he would bite any of your arteries, his healing saliva would not be able to stop the bleeding, killing you instantly. But he was attached to you and didn't want to cause you any harm, so he focused on finding the veins instead.

Charles took his time, examining your neck, before leaning in more and placing his mouth directly on it. Without holding back anymore, he sinks his teeth into your skin, causing a sharp but pleasant pain to shoot through your body, making you whimper in pleasure.

He took small sips of your blood, careful not to overwhelm you with the amount he is taking. After all, he was feeding on animal blood, and he did not require much more. As the warm liquid filled his mouth, he couldn't help but let out a satisfied hum, gripping your shoulders a bit harder.

With every sip, his fangs releasedthe aphrodisiac directly to your veins. You felt your body gradually get hotter, making you want to take off the rest of your clothes.

Charles thoroughly cleaned your neck from excess blood, healing it partially in the process, with his saliva. He looked at you and immediately noticed the change in your eyes.

"Take off my bra, Charlie," you whispered, looking at him with your slightly widened shiny eyes. "Don't be shy."

"Trust me, darling, I am not being shy," he murmured, unclasping your bra with more ease than you would yourself. "Do you want to do it in the kitchen, or would you prefer my bedroom?"

"We will probably be more comfortable on a bed," you giggled, playing with his shirt. Before you said anything else, Charles gave you a nudge, guiding you to his bedroom. He pushed you on the bed, sliding his polo off his body, followed by the white shirt.

You stared shamelessly at his stomach and bare shoulders, admiring them. He let out a light-hearted scoff and looked at you with a smirk. He unbuttoned your jeans and was about to get his trousers off as well when you grabbed his wrist, stopping him.

"Let me," you whispered, unbuttoning his trousers and sliding them off while biting your lip a little at the sight of the prominent bulge in his pants.

You finally took off your unclasped bra completely, letting your breasts out of the squishing undergarment. You did not take your eyes off him while taking his pants off as well, exposing his member entirely.

He watched you as you took it in your hands and examined it. You looked up into his eyes as you began massaging it, making him hiss slightly. You smiled and took it in your mouth, sucking on its tip, making Charles throw his head back in pleasure and grip your hair.

He could not help but push into your mouth, wanting to envelop his cock whole with your warmth. And you let him, relaxing your throat. Before he could come, he pulled out, panting slightly.

"Not yet." Charles whispered, stroking your face, "Should I make you scream, sugar?"

Before you could respond, he pushed you back on the bed and crawled on top of you, looking down at you as if you were his prey. His large hands massaged your sides as he gazed at you tenderly.

"Please, Charlie," you answered quietly, "I need you right now."

"You sound beautiful like that." Charles grinned, "Asking me so nicely..."

His hands reached down and grabbed your panties, snatching them off you, though he was careful enough not to rip them.

He began rubbing the outside of your pussy, building up the tension in your whole body. You started to whine, which was a sign for him to put his finger in.

Finally, he dipped it inside, massaging your clit, before adding another one. He brought you to a climax in a couple of moments with his skilled fingers.

You panted, looking up at him, as he loomed over your shaking body. Charles smirked again and leaned in, kissing your lips, nibbling on your lip a bit.

"Do you enjoy this?" he whispered. "The thought of a blood-drinking monster, ravaging you, taking whatever he wants?"

You whined breathily, squirming underneath him, desperate for more of the bliss he could provide her.

"Use your words, Sugar," he whispered. "What is it that you crave?"

"You," you whined, trying to catch your breath. "Only you. I need you to make me feel good."

Charles kept looking you in the eye, his orbs practically gleaming with satisfaction.

"I'll make you feel good." he spoke "I can't bear seeing you beg for too long. You're just such a sweet little thing..."

His voice trailed off as he positioned himself directly at your entrance. You shut your eyes, bracing yourself for the sensation you were about to experience. You did not doubt his ability to make you feel good. In fact, a part of you was wondering if you could even take it.

You found your answer when he began thrusting into you, before he picked up on the speed, practically pounding into your clit.

Your whimpers got louder; he let out a couple of breathy moans as well. You couldn't help but enjoy the way his low, melodic voice could twist into such pretty sounds.

As the last moan escaped his mouth and you both finished, Charles pulled out of you, looking down at you tiredly. Before he could say anything, you pulled him down on top of you, burying your head in his neck.

You both remained silent for a while, simply enjoying each other's presence.

"Did you try the brownies?" you whispered, making him grin.

"That's a funny question to ask, right after we've had sex." Charles responded, looking down at you with his little grin, "I did; they were delicious. Maybe we could have some for breakfast tomorrow?"

"You want me to stay?" you asked, almost surprised.

"Darling, if I could, I would never let you go," he responded, pulling you into a warm hug, as he buried his face in your hair and breathed in your scent once more.

[happilivedelicativecollective86]

Before I answer you I'm just going define some things.

An insurrection is a violent uprising against an authority, in legal contexts, often the authority is specifically a government.

A coup is an illegal seizure of power from a government.

January 6th was by definition an insurrection, as it was a violent uprising against the US federal government.

January 6th was NOT a coup, as power was not successfully illegally seized from the government, making it an attempted/failed coup instead.

"how does a person standing on a sidewalk outside the Capitol Campus, who never went onto the Campus at all, no violence, was just there and left count as a coup?"

Some of the people arrested for January 6th being almost entirely innocent does not clear the rest of them of their actual misdeeds.

"How does that person deserve to be jailed without trial or bail for more than 4 years?"

Again, some of the people arrested for January 6th being almost entirely innocent AND being mistreated the justice system does not clear the rest of them of their actual misdeeds.

"Why did the January 6th Committee destroy thousands of hours of recordings if there was a coup?"

There's no evidence that the January 6th committee deliberately or accidentally destroyed thousands of hours of recordings.

"If it was a coup why were they unarmed?"

First off, some were armed, second off, one does not need to be armed to preform an insurrection or instigate a failed coup, as being armed is not a requirement for either of them.

"If it was a coup why did the Capitol Police open the barricades and wave people in?"

Rioters had already broken in and opened several doors, and in RESPONSE the capitol police opened doors/barricades to prevent stampedes, as since there was nothing they could due to eject all the rioters at that point, increasing throughput to prevent a stampede was the next best thing.

"Do you think that they were in on it?"

No.

"If the Capitol Campus was already evacuated on Nancy Pelosi's orders because of the fear of pipe bombs how could anyone be charged with "disrupting a Legislative session" when they had already suspended the session and evacuated?"

First off only certain buildings in the capitol complex were evacuated because of fears of pipe bombs, second off disrupting a legislative session absolutely applies here, as Congress was in session with Pence attempting to certify the election, and was forced to go into recess after the capitol was confirmed to have been breached.

I highly encourage you to read the entirety of the "Timeline of the January 6 United States Capitol attack" article on Wikipedia, as it's the most complete public record of the event available and really helps put into perspective how chaotic the entire thing was.

"When 6 states violated their own laws and federal laws by changing how voting is done and violated their own and federal laws by counting ballots without observers present how is it a coup to ask for an audit of those states?"

Requesting audits into election results is not illegal, rioting and storming the capitol in an attempt to prevent the vice president from certifying an election is, and if everyone has just preformed the former then no one ould have gone to jail, plus much of what you just said is either partially or completely false, as verifiable evidence proving third parties were not present during the counting of ballots is basically non-existent.

It's an open notes test and some dense motherfuckers still can't figure out the answers.

[nonranghaes]

heads up: vague food mentions.

"hey, beautiful."

mingyu looks up from the pot he's stirring on the stove, staring at you for a moment like a confused pup. this is far from the first time you've called him something like handsome or pretty or, well, beautiful, but something about the way he can hear you smiling makes him wonder if there's something else going on. he doesn't see your phone in your hands, so you aren't recording him to get his silly, flustered giggles... but that doesn't mean you don't have one of his friends on a call. or one of your friends. he's grown used to the fact that now he has twice the amount of people who lovingly tease him (and, thankfully, stop when he asks them to--it's happened once with some of your friends taking a joke a little too far, and you were firm in telling them to knock it off before he even had to ask again).

he just smiles at you, eyes lighting up a little. "yes?"

you snort to yourself after a moment, making your way over. "nothing," you hum, wrapping your arms around his waist. "just... had to test something that cheol pointed out the other day."

again, you're met with the confused puppy look. he knows you've grown closer to several of his friends (wonwoo, seungcheol, minghao--although a lot of them do adore you), but he didn't know how often you talk to any of them. he knows its enough that sometimes minghao will mention a video you sent him, or seungkwan will talk about a question you asked him and the ensuing discussion, but there's something heartwarming to know just how intertwined your lives have become after these years together.

"i called you handsome on the phone once when he was round," you squeeze his hip, just a little. "and he says you always get this goofy look on your face." you lean in to kiss his cheek. "and i know i'm biased when i say it's definitely more cute than goofy, but... i wanted to see what he was talking about."

he just chuckles. "ah. i see," he reaches an arm around you, drawing you in so that he can press a kiss against the side of your face. "dinner's almost done, my heart."

and in turn, he sees the cute look that crosses your face when he calls you sweet things. that sweet, dreamy look in your eyes, the twitching smile as you try to hide just how easily he makes your heart flutter, too. minghao once, lovingly, told him that the two of you were like lovesick puppies when you first started dating and that he was glad it seemed to boil down into something more... natural between the two of you. not that he hated it: the two of you were visibly happy whenever you were seen together, and he was happy for that.

"it feels more real now," minghao had told him, gesturing vaguely with one hand as he continued on. "like you're two people in love. not just two people falling for each other. it's like you're a married couple."

mingyu understood. he thinks he prefers the act of being more than the act of falling anyway.

[h-sleepingirl]

Dolly in the Art Gallery: A Charmed 2025 Scene Log/Recap

“Art is how we decorate space, and music is how we decorate time.”

I first heard this Jean-Michel Basquiat quote in a rope class from Barkas, in the context of how we play within both space and time in a kink scene. I think about it frequently, especially as I feel more and more passionately about the brutally human impulse to create art.

I have been coming to hypnosis events since 2013, before Charmed existed -- my first event was packed with my own manic energy, held in a dungeon where people could hypnotize me basically at will. No hotel staff, no sneaking back to a private room. I developed a reputation as an aesthetically pleasing subject, often put on display in subtle and overt ways.

I have grown up in this community. Essentially my entire adult life has been spent involved in going to events and cons. I'm 33 now, and as Charmed celebrates its 10th year I've perhaps been unconsciously influenced to reflect on myself aging.

I feel so much older than that 21 year old exhibitionist. I'm more reserved, quieter, more selective, and certainly smarter. I like who I'm becoming, but I do miss parts of who I used to be -- that confidence, that energy. 

On Friday evening I looked at the schedule and saw there was going to be a Gallery of Living Art -- it's been a staple at Charmed for a number of years, but I'd never done more than peek inside.

I thought to myself: “Why not try to get in touch with that playful younger self? Why not show everyone who I am nowadays? Why not live out a fantasy?” 

Surely I’m not too old. Surely I haven’t grown out of this.

The time comes and I connect with my partner about it. He knows that one of my absolute favorite things is being totally frozen. We decide against anything complicated. No one will touch me or trigger me or anything like that. It’s the most “negotiating” we've maybe ever done, but I still leave all details to him. I tell him: “I was really just thinking this is an opportunity for me to sit blank and still for a long time.”

We walk into the room, and it’s overwhelming. People are setting up intricate exhibits with lots of creative interactions. There is a sheet we need to fill out to describe what our “art” is, which my partner writes on cryptically.

“Dolly can't talk. Duh…”

“Dolly is precious -- don't touch!”

Under “Artist”, where he is meant to put his name, he writes a question mark.

I am so in love with him, watching his mind work on the spot.

We find a place in the loud room and look at each other. We are a fluid force of nature in a bed together, spontaneous and wild. This planning doesn't feel like us. This hypnosis isn't a formality, per se, but it just feels sort of like “We both know how this is going to end on some level -- so how do we spend this time?”

He gingerly removes my name tag and starts murmuring to me. 

Being a dolly is such a luxurious treat that the moment he suggests it, I crumble, gripping his shirt with my weak little fingers, moaning too softly to be heard by anyone but him.

He poses me. He fixes my gaze blank and forward. He lets me practice standing and sitting. This kind of rehearsal is unfamiliar for us, and I almost relish doing something that feels a little awkward.

I am a dolly when he leaves me, frozen and posed, but I know it is going to take a couple minutes to settle in. I am a dolly getting comfortable, a dolly with twinges of self-consciousness. After a couple minutes he walks me over to a different chair, one that is highlighted by empty space around it, and I sit, and I know this is truly where I am supposed to be on display.

Finally, total stillness rushes over me like pure relief. 

I sit, and I stare, and I don’t do anything else. My mind is blank, and sometimes all there is inside my head is “I’m a dolly, I’m a dolly,” in my little dolly voice. It is pure, simple bliss.

People begin to come up to me to look at me. I am a good dolly and I am silent and I do not move even my eyes. They patiently read my sign and then observe me. I cannot change my body position to be any more or less appealing to them, I cannot hide nor flaunt myself.

Some people say things to me, little compliments and appreciations, and I can’t really process their words. The little dolly voice in my head screams in pleasure when I’m spoken to and given attention.

I have ADHD, I’m addicted to my phone, I’m a fidgeter. But there is nothing that carries the unique pleasure of being frozen and still. It reminds me of Quaker meetings, of spiritual silence and meditation that makes one feel time itself as though it has a sensory texture.

Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel talks about the Jewish sabbath as proof that it is not intuitive for us to sanctify time. But nevertheless as Jews we must learn to do it to make shabbat holy every week. Shabbat is “a cathedral in time,” he says, and I’ve been thinking about how much that applies to my experience of hypnosis. Hypnosis is not a physical object. We may sometimes have props but we cannot touch trance and it leaves no marks. It is time that is the sacred dimension in hypnosis, the time that we set aside (“kadosh” in Hebrew) with another human being.

Heschel says we are slaves to space and material things. And in this moment I feel like I have gotten as close as I can to releasing that. I am not even moving my physical body within the physical world. I am just relishing each passing second of stillness, building my cathedral in time.

Of course, sometimes I think sacred space and objects are very important. After all, I am in a space that is incredibly rare, that only exists very briefly, that I had to travel at length to get to.

And I am an object -- art -- inside of it. I am literally decorating the space, as Basquiat would say.

Am I thinking all of this as I sit there motionless? No, not with any sophistication. I truly feel blank. But I am feeling flashes of this as abstract mental sensations that I will untangle later.

Something else strikes me very quickly that I observe within. When people walk up to look at me, something inside me tenses up. I realize that I am unconsciously preparing myself to talk to them. I have been coming to cons for so long, and especially since beginning to write books I always meet a ton of new people every year who come up to me to talk, which I adore. But right now I am in a space where I literally cannot have a conversation with anyone. I don’t even have my nametag on anymore -- my partner was so clever to remove it.

It is the opposite of vending books, where I sit in a chair and am helpless in the sense that I must engage in conversation with the people who come up to meet me. Now, I literally cannot talk to anyone, and they cannot talk to me, and most people may not even know who I am.

It is a hit of extreme objectification, more real than it has ever felt. I am not sleepingirl -- I am a dolly. “Who” I am doesn’t matter. I am art.

My partner also is not sitting there receiving compliments for me. He is nearby, in eyesight, just watching. But he’s anonymous too. And there is something about this mutual anonymity that makes me feel even prouder about us as a couple. There is no performance of who we are. I don’t know how to describe it, but obviously it feels more authentic than public play usually ever does. Like a little secret we are sharing a corner of.

And he looks ever the artist, sitting back and watching me. I feel very strongly that this little scene isn’t the art -- it’s me. Our relationship is what’s really on display. All the work he’s done over 7 years of brainwashing me, real work on my personality and identity, my wardrobe, every single way I express myself and who I am. The people coming by are seeing his bimbo, his dolly, his [x] -- without necessarily knowing who either of us are.

The rhythm is addicting. My mind babbles my self-given dolly mantra over and over, I luxuriate in the stillness, and I stare. I only can sort of half-see with darkened vision, though my eyes are wide. I love when people notice me sitting there -- their expressions change as they observe me. They step into my metaphorical space, which is eerily silent compared to the revelry of the creative demonstrations that fill the room. They are no longer “being entertained,” and no one can communicate to them what I am doing -- they must engage with me out of their own curiosity.

Sometimes they decide to talk to me. I can’t process most of it, but I remember a few interactions.

Someone says, “What an excellent dolly.”

Someone else notices that I’m wearing a bracelet that says “bimbo,” and says, “Even the details on this one are exquisite.”

Someone else says, “Wow, I don’t think I’ve ever seen sleepingirl play before.”

That last one hits me in the gut with memories of a time now long past: Play in public spaces was universal at cons; I couldn’t move from one place to another without someone dropping me into trance; absolutely everyone knew what I looked like when hypnotized.

Even now as I am on display, I have a mask on, and the people can’t see my gently parted lips.

It is a rush of emotion that is very complex for my simple little dolly head, but it goes away.

For a long while, I just exist as a thing in bliss while the room -- the whole world -- bubbles with activity around me. 

Eventually even as I sit frozen and blank, a little timer starts ticking in my head -- I could sit here for much longer, but I don’t want to make him wait for me, and I have other things I want to do tonight.

Reading Heschel has been helping me release some of that odd panic that bubbles up when I awaken from trance -- the feeling that magic is slipping through my fingers, memories are slipping out of my mind, and I can take no memento from it. I sometimes write, draw, or make music to try to capture the things I feel in hypnosis with my partner. I think it is from that impulse to be able to touch and hold hypnosis, to make it a “thing” in space as opposed to something of time.

But I do think there is something else, just a human drive to create art about this transcendent experience that we engage in together. I need to create art to try to communicate the perfect way I don’t move and my eyes go glassy. I need to express my emotions, my desires, my dreams, my love. I am only human, a human blown away by this very human thing we do that we call hypnosis.

Only my partner sees it, and he does see so much into the soul of it for me. But this is exactly what I have wanted -- a chance to publicly communicate the beauty of what he and I do. To make this art by performing it, living it. To engage in a human act of creativity by having my humanity stripped away from me.

I am a bimbo, a dolly, I am art -- and that doesn’t go away when I get up to tell him I am done sitting here. I am his art. I am a manifestation of his creativity in this world, and he has a beautifully creative mind which I love so dearly.

This is serious for me, this is real for me, this is so highly personal and jealously guarded as my own precious identity.

Ten years ago I laid my head on his lap and he transformed my eyes into dolly eyes and told me that someday he would turn my whole body into a dolly body. And as we laid together in a bed after the Gallery on Friday he talked about how I had those dolly eyes again in that room. But to me, it’s not about being a dolly, or even being a bimbo. It’s about creating art together, art with a power imbalance. And fucking respecting that as sacred and exciting.

I don’t have much else to say except extreme heartfelt gratitude to Mazirian for running the Gallery, and everyone who came by to look at me and said nice things to me and joined me in my world for just a little while. 

(If you’re curious, I was sitting there for about 30 minutes.)

[mountainsandmayhem]

BDSMaid - Epilogue

AN: You can blame Mexico and Onyx Storm for my delay on this one. But for those who are curious, here is our sweet little epilogue for Joel and Freckles. Thank you so much to everyone who read, commented, shared, and encouraged me while writing this story. I love you, and so does Joel and Freckles. XO

Series Masterlist | My Masterlist

Five Years Later

“You wanna come,” he practically taunts, “Don’t you, sweet girl?” 

Every muscle in your body is weak, causing the leather cuffs of the St. Andrews Cross to rub at your wrists and ankles. He’s been teasing you for hours, stopping every time you’re about to shatter. 

This night has been a long while in the making. After five years with your firm you were finally given the lead on a big case; a case that your boss handed to you and said this was your chance to earn your partnership. You spent upwards of eighty to ninety hours a week preparing and Joel could not have been more perfect during that time. He’d often show up with food or coffee for you and your team of junior lawyers, interns, and paralegals. He never complained when you’d bring work home; however, every time you said something negative about yourself, Joel would mark it on the fridge. Over the three and a half weeks of prep work thirty ticks ended up on the small piece of paper that was hung with a Berkeley magnet. You didn’t have time to ask Joel what they meant, and truthfully, you didn’t really care; you trusted that whatever he planned to do with those ticks was for your own good. 

During the trial, another twelve ticks were added. When the verdict was announced and you had won your case, Joel was there in the courtroom, smiling warmly at you when you glanced back at him. When you got home that evening, after a celebratory round or two of cocktails, Joel made you kneel in front of him as he explained that each tick, all forty two of them, symbolized a denied orgasm, a punishment meant to remind you not to talk bad about things that Joel owns. Especially brilliant lawyers who win their first big case and secure themselves as partner.  

As he strapped you to the padded X shaped piece of furniture tonight, he said, ‘if you’re the sweet girl I know you to be, then you won’t whine when I stop. Instead, you’ll say “Thank you, Mister Miller” and I’ll count that as two. Forty two orgasms being denied is not going to be easy, so do yourself a favour and don’t whine; you don’t want to know what happens if you do.’

The only response to his teasing that you can muster now is a whimper and a nod. He clicks his tongue in disappointment. “Use your words, honey.”

Your voice is almost silent. “Yes, Mister Miller.”

He walks behind you, trailing the small vibrator along your skin. “Such a good girl for me tonight. Saying yes to everything. Remind me, how many orgasms have I denied you so far?”

Your pussy throbs with the deep timber of his voice, this is truly torture and your safeword is on the tip of your tongue. “Twenty one,” you mumble.

“Poor, sweet girl,” He says from behind you, leaning in closely to whisper in your ear. “Did you learn your lesson?”

“Yes, Mister Miller.” You swallow the dry lump in your throat.

“Should I let you pick how you want to come?”

He completes his circle around you and the crossing, stepping in close to you. He uses the little vibrator to gently tease your nipples. You can barely form a thought and just let a small ‘yes’ mixed with moans leave your lips as your sweat covered back arches off the padded back of the cross. The heat of Joel’s body this close makes you feel like you’re on fire. 

“Want to come on my fingers?” He asks, then easily slips three of them inside of you. Your gaze shoots to his as a strangled cry fills the room. 

“Yesyes - fuuuuck, please.” You feel your pussy tightening around his digits.

“What about my cock? You love being stuffed full of my thick cock while I strum your clit. Don’t you? My perfect little slut.” He teases you further by pumping his fingers forward once, revelling in the feel of you clenching tighter around him. He doesn’t give you a chance to respond as he continues.

“No, I know,” his fingers slip out from your pussy and you gasp, unable to protest in your weakened state. Not that you would protest; you know better than to do that, and he told you not to whine tonight. You are a good girl, you know that what your dom says is best. Plus, you need to come so badly that you think you might actually die if you don’t, and Joel is just sadistic enough to keep you like this for days. 

He gets onto his knees, his warm breath hitting your cunt as he speaks. “What if I put my lips around this swollen little clit? Huh? Suck her into my mouth and drink up every ounce of your cum?”

He uses his thumbs to pull the lips of your pussy further apart. He’s so close that your breath catches in your throat at the promise of relief. He blows cool air along your soaked pussy; you clench your molars together and focus on your breathing. You don’t come until he tells you. 

“Would you like that, my sweet girl?”

The restraints cut at your wrists when you try to push your hips to his mouth. “Yes. Yes. Please, Mister Miller.”

He stands abruptly, hand wrapping around the hair at the nape of your neck before he tugs to bring your gaze up to his. The pull of your hair relaxes the muscles of your neck and upper back and you melt into the padded cross.

His eyes darken as he asks, “You really would say yes to anything, wouldn’t you?” 

“Y-yes. I just need to come. Please.” He releases your hair, stepping back and crossing his arms. The veins on his forearms pop, the sleeves of his rolled black dress shirt tightening under his biceps. Since officially retiring, he’s had a strict exercise regime. He was sexy when you met him almost ten years ago, but like a fine wine, he gets better with each passing year.

The gravel in his voice returns, “But you’d say yes even if I told you we were done for the night and it was time to get dressed. Right?” 

Your eyes clench close, head falling back as the panic of not getting to come tonight races through your mind. You take a calming breath before whispering, “Yes, Mister Miller.” 

“Eyes on me, sweet girl.” You peel your eyes open and tilt your chin down to look at him. His hands are now buried in his pockets, and there’s a shift in how he’s looking at you, a slight softness to his dark eyes. 

“And what if I asked you to marry me?” His voice is shy and raspy.

He slowly pulls a ring out of his pocket and holds it up for you. A thin, gold band with a single, albeit very large, solitaire diamond on it sends sparkles all around the room. Tears line your lash line, mirroring his. He clears his throat softly.

“Here’s what we’re going to do, sweet girl. Listen carefully for me,” he pockets the ring and steps closely, wiping the happy tear that rolls down your cheek. The rough whorls on his thumb send goosebumps cascading down your body. “First, I’m going to make you come. Then, I’m going to untie you, get you all cleaned up, and get some sugar into you.”

You nod, leaning into his touch as cups your face. His eyes dart towards the bed as he says, “After that, we are getting to that bed so I can kiss you until neither of us can breathe.”

“And then,” he smiles sweetly, a tear rolling from the corner of his deep brown and honey flecked eye to his greying beard. “And then I’m going to ask you to marry me.”

[cupcakeslushie]

hii, i love your EW AU! and i want to ask you some questions about it, sorry for my bad english but i hope that you can answer me :)

how was Rapha's infancy? and how is he's phobia of being alone now that, well, he was alone for almost all his life. that have any change when he meets his brother or just start in that moment?

how are the interactions with big mama after free Mickey? especially the times that they have to ask her for help. how is the relationship of big mama and is "son"?

how is the relationship of Splinter and his sons?

and last one (srry if is too much) how is the redemption of Draxum? Does he have one? Mickey helps him after everything he did to his brother? Is Donie actually the one that helped him? how is their relationship after that?

thank you so much, i love the Aus that you do, you draw so pretty and sorry if you already answered these questions.

For Raph, he had a hard time with Savage Raph, immediately following his brother’s kidnapping, but he actively worked to suppress it, so he can take care of the injuries Splinter received about half a year later (the ones from his fight with Saki). It doesn’t really return until post movie, when the whole escape pods thing (not saying who gets taken) and then the Prison Dimension thing (not saying who gets trapped) trigger Raph’s fears of losing his brothers. In season 3 I have big plans for Raph and his issues with being separated from his brothers will be explored. We’ll see Savage Raph making a come back.

Big Mama and Mikey have a very transactional relationship. Mikey knows how she works now, and won’t be fooled by her…often. Though it can still be hard for Mikey to not be fooled.

Splinter and Leo probably have the most tumultuous relationship. It’s neither one’s fault, and when Leo is in his right mind, he’s perfectly polite (if painfully distant) but when his blood rage takes over, he can go into attack mode on a dime, and more often than not, Splinter is his main target, because of all the programming that Saki put him through into hating Splinter.

Draxum will get a big redemption! Donnie will be at the helm of it, but if it were up to Donnie, Draxum wouldn’t even have to do anything 😂. So Mikey will actually play a part and make sure Draxum isn’t falling off the wagon, and not disappointing Donnie. But Drax really does wanna patch up their relationship, so he takes all of the guidance Mikey’s willing to give. Meanwhile, Raph, Leo, Splinter, and Timothy are ready to beat his ass for any missteps.

[hellinistical]

in which the lemurian you work for is dealing with some things...good thing you can help him! happens after ebb and flow. Sub! Rafayel x afab. reader. mdni.

a/n: for @venomaniyah

tw: heat. piv. nipple play (sucking, teasing, pulling, ect.). oral (m. receiving). semi-plot. hand jobs. edging. teasing. "good boy". dacriphyllia. slight dub con. reader is kinda a bully. whiny rafayel. he's desperate to all hell.

wc: 8k

The apartment was small but inviting, with its warm, honey-colored hardwood floors that creaked in greeting with every step. Soft, natural light filtered through sheer white curtains, which swayed slightly in the breeze from a cracked-open window. A hand-me-down sofa, its cushions sagging just enough to show years of use but still firm and comfortable, sat against one wall. A colorful patchwork quilt, likely handmade, was draped over its back, adding a splash of personality to the otherwise neutral tones of the room.

The kitchenette was compact but functional, with a stove that looked older than the apartment itself and a tiny, round table tucked into the corner. A single vase holding fresh daisies served as the centerpiece, hinting at a quiet care for the space. Above the sink hung a row of mismatched mugs, each telling a different story—one from a tourist trap in Paris, another adorned with a faded cartoon character, and a plain one chipped at the rim.

Books lined a modest shelf in the corner, their spines worn but loved, while a few framed photos leaned casually against the wall, featuring smiling faces frozen in candid moments. The apartment had the faint smell of freshly brewed coffee, mixed with a hint of lavender from a diffuser on the table.

Though the space was humble, it lacked of nothing essential. Every detail, from the carefully folded throw on the armchair to the small cactus perched on the windowsill, spoke of a life not defined by abundance, but by contentment and care.

And yet, even though it was well into the day and there were sure to be other things to do, you found yourself staring. Staring at just how pretty he was, dozing off on your couch.

Rafayel’s face was softer in sleep, the usual sharpness of his features dulled by the even rise and fall of his chest. His lavender hair fanned out across the pillow you’d wedged beneath his head, catching the light in a way that made it seem almost otherworldly. His nose twitched every now and then, and his lips parted slightly with each breath, almost as if he were mid-thought, even in dreams.

Yeah, maybe it was creepy. Okay, definitely creepy.

But you told yourself you were just watching over him, making sure he stayed warm and comfortable while he recovered from his fever. The faint pink flush on his cheeks wasn’t entirely gone yet, and his brows furrowed every so often, like even in sleep he was trying to work something out.

The quilt you’d draped over him rose and fell with his breathing, and you noticed he’d unconsciously grabbed hold of one corner, clutching it like a lifeline. It was such a small, uncharacteristic thing for someone who always seemed so composed, so larger-than-life, and it made your chest ache in a way you weren’t sure how to describe.

You wanted to do something—anything—to keep that fevered look from returning. To see his eyes open and find them clear again, their usual sharp, captivating hue instead of the dull, glassy sheen they’d had when he’d stumbled through your door. For now, though, he just needed rest, and maybe you needed this moment, too. “Your scales are so pretty…” you murmur softly, trailing your fingers against the ones on his cheekbones, down his jaw, almost about to linger on his plush bottom lip. And they were. The most beautiful blue you ever did see. 

You press a kiss to the one under his right eye. “Get better, Rafayel.”

It had started slowly. The occasional sharp inhale, the restless shifting, the way his breath had begun coming in shallow pants. At first, you’d thought his fever was just worsening, maybe a bad dream, maybe some kind of delirium. You’d knelt beside him, brushing damp strands of hair away from his forehead, whispering reassurances you weren’t even sure he could hear.

Then he had grabbed your wrist.

His grip had been desperate, trembling, but strong. When his eyes cracked open—hazy, dazed, pupils blown wide—you’d barely had a second to process before he had shuddered, body arching slightly, and let out a soft, wrecked sound that sent heat pooling in your stomach.

He was awake. 

You turn, eyes wide when you meet his own blue-pink gaze. “You mean it?” Pearly tears pricked at his eyes, dripping down the sun-bleached ends of his lower lashes, accompanying them to grace his skin with butterfly kisses. 

His cheeks were rosy, ears tinged with embarrassment and bashfulness. 

“How long were you awake?”

“That- that doesn’t matter.  Did you mean it?”

***

That was hours ago. Now? Now Rafayel- and you- are a mess.

A mess of sweat, drool, tears, and soon enough, exhaustion. 

The fever had been a warning, a quiet tremor before the storm. But you hadn’t known. How could you have?

Now? Now, Rafayel was sprawled beneath you, a mess of sweat, trembling limbs, and ragged breaths. His skin was hot—too hot—his usual pale flush now a feverish pink, iridescent blue scales glistening with sweat. His hands, usually so careful, so hesitant, clutched at the fabric of your shirt like a lifeline, fingers tightening every time a wave of whatever-this-was crashed over him.

You had no idea what to do.

That was hours ago.

Now, the apartment was thick with it—heat, tension, the scent of sweat and something else, something uniquely him, something that curled into your lungs and refused to let go. It was sickeningly sweet.

"Rafayel," you rasped, trying to keep your voice steady. "You—you're burning up. You need to—"

A whimper, a needy, helpless sound, cut you off. His grip on you tightened, nails digging in just enough to make you shiver. His demeanor normally so elegant and fluid, was curled awkwardly against the couch, scales twitching in an unfocused rhythm.

He was shaking.

Your heart pounded.

It was sudden.

His hands fisted in your shirt, pulling you down so suddenly you barely had time to gasp before his lips crashed against yours. It was messy—desperate, awkward, like he didn’t know what he was doing, only that he needed to do it. His feverish body pressed against yours, trembling with something too raw to name, and his breath hitched as his lips moved clumsily over yours, needy and unpracticed.

Your teeth knocked together, the kiss more heat than finesse, but Rafayel didn’t care. He made a small, helpless sound—something between a whimper and a growl—as if frustrated he couldn’t get closer, couldn’t melt into you completely. His fingers were shaking, gripping you like you might disappear, like letting go wasn’t an option.

“Rafayel—” you barely managed, voice muffled against his mouth, but he only made another needy noise, tilting his head and kissing you deeper, more insistent, as if silence was the only answer he’d accept. His breath came in ragged gasps, and you could feel the heat radiating off him, seeping into you, making your skin prickle with warmth.

He was burning up.

His lips dragged against yours, wet and desperate, his sharp canines scraping at your bottom lip like he didn’t know how to be gentle—like he couldn’t. His body trembled under you, fevered and vulnerable in a way you’d never seen before, in a way that made your chest tighten with something dangerously close to want.

You swallowed thickly, hands bracing against the couch as you tried to steady yourself, tried to think past the heat curling through your veins. But Rafayel only whined softly, frustrated, needy, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

You had no idea what to do.

But Rafayel needed you.

And gods help you—part of you wanted to give in.

Your head was spinning, your breath uneven, but no. No.

If Rafayel needed you this badly, then he was going to have to play by your rules.

You pushed against his chest—firm, but not cruel—breaking the messy kiss with a wet gasp. He let out a desperate, frustrated whimper, eyes fluttering open, unfocused and glassy. His pupils were wide, swallowing the sea-blue and pink of his irises, his flushed lips slightly parted as he panted.

“Rafayel,” you warned, voice low, steady.

His hands twitched where they still clung to your shirt, fingers flexing like he wanted to pull you back down, like he couldn’t stand even the inches of space you’d put between you. But you stayed firm, watching the way his legs curled tighter, his whole body shuddering.

“Please,” he breathed, voice wrecked, needy. His nails dragged lightly against your skin, not enough to hurt, just enough to remind you that he was still desperate, still burning, still aching.

But you weren’t going to let him lose himself like this. Not without control. Not without you in control.

You exhaled slowly, tilting his chin up with your fingers, forcing him to meet your gaze. “If you need me so bad,” you murmured, brushing your thumb over the fevered heat of his skin, “then you’re gonna have to listen.”

His breath hitched.

“You’re gonna have to be good for me.”

A shiver ran down his spine, his lashes fluttering. You could feel his legs twitch against the cushions, restless, a telltale sign of his struggle. His lips parted as if he wanted to argue, to protest, but instead, he nodded, slow, hesitant—obedient.

A smirk tugged at the corner of your lips.

“Good.”

Now this was how you played the game.

His breath was uneven, hot against your throat, and his grip on you was tight—like if he let go, he’d lose himself completely. It was honestly a strange situation. Here you were, perched on the crappy couch you hadn’t even fully paid off yet, straddling him—this Lemurian, this siren of a man who, by all accounts, should have been the one in control.

And yet, it was you he was desperate for.

You swallowed, watching the way his lavender hair clung to his forehead, damp from fever and sweat. It curled just slightly at the ends, framing his face like seafoam against the tide. He was beautiful, infuriatingly so—his features sharp and delicate at the same time, otherworldly in a way that made your stomach twist. The iridescent sheen of his scales caught the dim light of the apartment, casting soft glimmers across his fever-flushed skin.

He shuddered beneath you, fingers twitching at your waist, like he wasn’t sure whether he was allowed to pull you closer. He looked up at you through heavy lids, his slit pupils dilated, his expression raw and vulnerable in a way that made your chest tighten.

It was intoxicating, having him like this—this creature who could command the ocean itself, who carried an air of danger, of mystery, reduced to a trembling mess beneath you. And it was you he was reaching for.

A sharp exhale left his lips, and he swallowed thickly. “Miss body guard…you’re… cruel,” he rasped, his voice wrecked, hushed.

"Cruel?" Your brow furrowed, lips parting slightly as you studied him.

Rafayel let out a shaky breath, his fingers flexing at your waist, as if torn between pushing and pulling. His expression was something raw, something caught between desperation and frustration, his flushed skin practically glowing in the dim light.

“You are,” he murmured, voice uneven, a touch hoarse. His eyes, blown wide and glossy, flickered over your face like he was searching for something—permission, relief, control. “You sit here, watching me like this, knowing I—” He swallowed hard, the words catching in his throat. His breath hitched as your fingers ghosted over the faint ridges of scales along his ribs. “And you do nothing.”

Your lips curled at the accusation, at the way his voice wavered. You tilted your head, fingers trailing upward, just barely brushing against the curve of his throat. Rafayel swallowed hard, his chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. His lashes fluttered, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips, torn between frustration and yearning. His fingers twitched at your waist, grip tightening just slightly—like he wanted to pull you closer but knew better than to push his luck.

“You tease me. You—” He exhaled sharply, his head tipping back against the couch, exposing the pale column of his throat. “You make me wait.”

You huffed, tilting your head. “And you hate that?”

His lips parted, hesitation flickering across his face—his pride at war with his need. His legs curled against the cushions, restless, his body tense beneath you.

“… No,” he admitted finally, voice softer, raw. “I—” His breath hitched, and his fingers flexed against your hips. “I like it.”

“Rafayel.”

He shivered at the way you said his name, and gods, the sight of him—half-lidded, lips parted, body tense beneath you—sent a thrill through your veins. He was trying so hard to keep it together, to keep some semblance of control. But you saw the way his hands twitched, the way his grip tightened, the way his breath hitched every time you so much as shifted against him.

His jaw clenched, and for a moment, it looked like he wanted to argue, to snap at you. But all that came out was a soft, needy sound—one that sent heat curling low in your stomach.

Rafayel’s eyes flickered down to your hands as they rested on his chest, then back to your face, his breath still coming in shallow, erratic bursts. His lips parted as if to say something, but then he hesitated, shifting beneath you in frustration. The usual smoothness of his voice was gone, replaced with something rougher, more desperate.

“I don’t…” He swallowed, shaking his head as though trying to gather his thoughts. “I don’t know how to handle this,” he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. His hands twitched again, but he didn’t make a move to touch you, his fingers almost trembling with the effort to resist. “I’ve never felt—like this—before. You—” He exhaled sharply, almost like a growl. “You make me weak.”

You paused, staring at him, the words sinking in. It was strange, hearing him say it out loud. This creature, who’d seen things you couldn’t even imagine, who lived a life full of power and mystery, confessing that you—you—had somehow unraveled him.

For a moment, you almost forgot the tension, the power play, the strange game you were playing. You were staring at him, really staring, noticing the vulnerability in his gaze, in the way his body shook beneath yours.

You wanted to say something, anything that could make sense of this situation. But for once, you were at a loss for words. 

“Be good for me,” you murmured, lips ghosting just over his,

You pressed a kiss to his lips, soft, inviting—just a hint of warmth, just a taste of what might come. His breath caught as your lips brushed against his, a feather-light kiss that could’ve easily been pulled away from, that could’ve left him hanging. It was your test, your way of gauging whether he could control himself for even a moment.

But the moment he felt it, the moment he sensed your willingness, Rafayel tried to take a mile when you only gave him an inch. His hand shot up, gripping your face as his lips crashed against yours, frantic and desperate, demanding. He pushed, hard, pulling you closer until your bodies pressed together, until the kiss was no longer gentle, no longer soft.

You pulled back, a sharp breath slipping past your lips, but Rafayel, still holding you tightly, tried to pull you right back into the kiss, his lips urgent and needy against yours.

“Rafayel,” you breathed, voice low and almost scolding. But you weren’t sure if you could be mad at him, not when he was so completely consumed by whatever feverish, wild desire had taken hold of him. His desperation was palpable, the heat between you two thickening with every second.

The desperation in his voice sent a shiver down your spine. He was so far gone, lost in the intensity of whatever feverish longing had taken hold of him. His eyes were half-lidded, pupils dark and blown wide, his breath ragged as his hands twisted at the fabric of your shirt, fingers trembling with the need to rid you of it.

“Please—just—take these damned clothes off,” he begged, his voice hoarse and raw, full of frustration. His breath came in jagged gasps, chest heaving, and you could see just how far he was willing to push for whatever he needed in this moment.

You couldn’t ignore the way his body pressed against yours, his skin fevered and hot under your hands, every part of him calling out for something more. 

“I…” You sighed, faltering for just a moment, the heat of the situation almost overwhelming. You had to maintain control, but the way he was looking at you, the desperation on his face, it was starting to make your resolve slip. You could feel your own breath quicken, the tension rising, but just as you opened your mouth to say something, Rafayel made his move.

With a sudden shift, his hands were at your shirt, undoing it with a speed you weren’t prepared for. His fingers were sure, eager—almost frantic—as he peeled the fabric from your body. Before you could even react, his own shirt was gone too, his chest exposed, the scales on his skin shimmering under the dim light.

He was bare now, his body trembling slightly from the fever, but his expression was anything but weak. It was raw, hungry—unashamed. His chest rose and fell rapidly, a desperate fire in his eyes as he leaned in, hands roaming over you, pulling you in closer.

The moment was slipping away from you, and for a heartbeat, you let yourself feel it—the heat, the pull between you both, the need so palpable it was almost suffocating.

But just as quickly, your mind sharpened again. You had to pull back. You had to stay in control.

“Rafayel…” you breathed, voice shaking slightly, but firm. "Not yet."

But as you tried to regain that distance, his hands slid down your sides, pulling you closer as he groaned low, his lips already at your neck. “Please,” he whispered, his voice trembling, raw, like he couldn’t hold back anymore. "I need you..."

“I know—I know, baby, just…” You half-joked, the words leaving your lips breathlessly as you pulled away just slightly, feeling the tension between you rise and fall like an unsteady wave. “We can’t do much on this couch.”

You blew a weak, cool breath toward his face, hoping to ease the heat radiating off of him, but the air was barely enough to touch his flushed skin. His eyes fluttered for a moment, a tremor running through his body as he leaned in closer, not satisfied by the brief space between you. His hands were still gripping at you, searching for more—more of your skin, more of your touch, more of anything to soothe the ache.

His lips parted, breath warm against your cheek as he groaned. “Then let’s move,” he muttered, more demand than suggestion.

You could feel the tug of temptation, the pull of his need, but you held onto that sliver of control. "Easy, Rafayel," you warned softly, your hand pressing lightly against his chest to hold him back just a fraction, just enough to catch your breath. "We need to take it slow, alright?"

He groaned, head tilting back in frustration, his legs twitching with impatience. "You're killing me," he rasped, the fire in his eyes still burning bright, but there was a flicker of understanding there too. He wasn’t ready to let go, but he was starting to grasp that you weren’t going to make it easy on him.

“I’ll be good,” he promised, voice hoarse, still desperate, but laced with that same vulnerability you’d seen earlier. "Just—just please."

Fuck. 

You heard the frustration in his voice, and despite the resolve you had to keep the reins in your hands, something about the way he said “just—just please” got to you. The vulnerability, the desperation—it was hard to resist. He had let his guard down, just for a moment, and you could see it.

"Fine," you breathed out in exasperation, your voice a mix of teasing and concession.

His eyes flashed with that dangerous, hungry gleam again, and before you knew it, he was pulling you back into him, more assertive now. His lips found yours, urgent and demanding, and there was no more hesitation, no more games. The heat between you was undeniable, and you could feel the way he melted into the kiss, pressing into you like he had to, like he couldn’t wait any longer.  You pushed him down further into the couch, your hands sliding over his shoulders, feeling the heat of his skin under your touch. The shift in position only heightened the tension, your body pressing into his, the sensation of him beneath you intoxicating. There was no room for restraint now—only the raw, unspoken need that hung in the air.

Breaking the kiss, you trailed your lips to his neck, tasting the salty warmth of his skin. His breath hitched as your mouth brushed against the sensitive spot just below his ear, and he groaned, his hands tightening around you, pulling you even closer as if he couldn’t get enough.

"Gods…" His voice was barely above a whisper, thick with need. His chest rose and fell with each breath, his body arching into yours as you continued to explore the curve of his neck with your lips.

You grasp his chin with your index and thumb, tilting his head to give him a quick peck before grasping his arm. Your fingers traced the heat of his skin, gliding up his arm with slow, deliberate intent before finding his hand. His grip was tight, almost instinctual, like he was afraid you'd slip away if he didn’t hold on. But instead of pulling, instead of giving in to the urgency that burned between you both, you laced your fingers with his, grounding him.

Lifting his hand, you pressed a soft kiss to the back of his palm. It was a contrast to the heat of everything else—gentle, reverent, like you were reminding him that he was yours, that he didn't have to chase or beg for what you were already giving.

Rafayel let out a shaky breath, his body shuddering beneath you. His free hand curled around your waist, squeezing as if he could hold onto the moment, as if he needed something solid to keep himself from unraveling completely. His eyes, hazy and desperate, searched yours.

"You’re so unfair," he murmured, voice hoarse, breathless.

You only smirked, pressing another kiss to his knuckles before whispering, “I never said this would be easy, baby.”

You let go of his hand, watching the way his fingers twitched in the empty space where yours had been. Then, slowly, deliberately, you adjusted yourself, shifting your weight until you were fully straddling his hips. His breath hitched as your hands found his chest, palms pressing against the warmth of his skin, feeling the rapid rise and fall beneath your fingertips.

Rafayel looked up at you, lips parted, his iridescent eyes blown wide with something between frustration and helpless want. His legs curled against the couch, twitching, betraying just how much restraint he was holding onto—if he was holding onto any at all.

You tilted your head, dragging your thumbs over his collarbones, watching the way his body responded to even the smallest touch. “You’re burning up,” you murmured, voice teasing, though there was genuine concern beneath it.

He swallowed hard, hands twitching at his sides like he wanted to reach for you, but he was waiting—waiting to see what you would allow. “Then help me,” he pleaded, voice thick, almost desperate.

You leaned in, just enough so your lips hovered above his, just enough for him to feel your breath against his skin. “Patience, baby.” You dragged your nails lightly down his chest, reveling in the way his muscles tensed beneath your touch.

A frustrated groan rumbled from his throat, his head pressing back into the couch. “You’re torturing me,” he muttered.

You chuckled, the sound light and teasing as you watched his scowl deepen. “Always so dramatic, fish-for-brains.”

His grip tightened on the zipper of your hoodie, yanking it down with more force than necessary. “I’m not dramatic,” he grumbled, though the slight flush creeping up his neck betrayed him.

You arched a brow, amused. “Really? Because you sound like you’re one second away from throwing a tantrum.”

He huffed, pushing the hoodie off your shoulders with an impatient tug, his hands lingering against your arms, warm and just a little unsteady. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

You smirked, tilting your head. “A little bit.”

Rafayel rolled his eyes, but you caught the way his breath stuttered when your hands slid back up his chest, nails grazing his skin. He was trying so hard to play it cool, but you could feel the tension in his body, see the way his tail flicked against the couch in restless anticipation.

You leaned in, brushing your lips against his jaw, barely touching, just enough to make him chase the contact. “You’re cute when you pout,” you murmured.

His hands tightened on your waist, his voice lower now, almost a growl. “Keep testing me.”

You giggled at his half-hearted threat, feeling the way his hands slipped beneath the fabric of your clothes, warm and greedy. He wasted no time, fingers splaying against your sides, tracing up your back, like he needed to touch everything at once. Pushing him down harder, guiding his body to really settle into the couch, feeling the weight of him beneath you, the heat from his skin searing through the thin barrier of clothing between you. Your hands slid over his shoulders, feeling the taut muscles beneath the smoothness of his skin, pressing yourself into him now, just as desperate.

Rafayel’s hands immediately found their place against your back, pulling you closer, fingers digging into your flesh, but you held control.

You trailed your lips down his jawline, then to his neck, tasting the salt of his skin, the warmth, feeling the flutter of his pulse beneath your lips. You could hear the hitch in his breath, the subtle shiver that ran through him as you nipped gently at the sensitive skin of his neck. His hands gripped your hips harder, trying to pull you even closer, but you refused to give him that.

“Someone’s impatient,” you teased, shifting slightly in his lap just to hear the sharp inhale he tried—and failed—to suppress.

Rafayel’s grip tightened, his nails lightly dragging against your skin. “You started this,” he muttered, pressing his forehead against your shoulder as if that would hide the way he was practically trembling beneath you.

You hummed, your fingers threading through his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. “Mmm, did I?” He groaned, frustrated, before nipping playfully at your shoulder in retaliation. “You know you did.” You laughed, letting him tug your hoodie the rest of the way off, his touch growing more eager, more desperate, as he worked on whatever layers remained between you. 

Sliding his hands under your shirt, his fingers worked with practiced ease, undoing the clasps of your bra beneath your shirt as if he’d done it a hundred times before. But just as he started to slide the straps down, you caught his wrists, stopping him in his tracks.

Rafayel blinked up at you, startled, his pupils blown wide with need. “What—” His voice was rough, breathless.

You released his wrists, the subtle tension easing as you slowly took off your hoodie, then your shirt, letting the fabric fall to the floor. The movement was deliberate, giving him just enough time to fully appreciate the shift before you leaned back in, watching him watch you, your gaze daring him to speak, to move.

Rafayel’s breath caught, his eyes flicking between you and the space where his hands had been moments ago. He didn't say anything, just a low, desperate sound escaping him as his gaze heated further, taking in every inch of you like he couldn't quite believe it.

You gave him the smallest, teasing smile. "Easier for you now."

The sound that escaped him—low and almost reverent—made your pulse quicken. His hands came to rest against your chest, flat and careful, like he was in awe of the way you felt under his touch. The tension between you, that delicate balance of wanting and restraint, hummed in the air.

"Gods…" His voice was soft, a little shaky, as if he couldn't quite believe this moment. His thumbs gently brushed over your skin, tracing the lines of your chest with a reverence that sent a shiver down your spine.

You held his gaze, a smirk pulling at the corner of your lips, teasing him, but inside, there was a soft warmth that you couldn’t quite ignore.

"Careful," you warned softly, your breath catching slightly. "I might get used to you looking at me like that."

His hands faltered. "N-no, no, I want you to get used to it- please, if you’ll let me,"

His words were desperate, trembling with an intensity that made your chest tighten. The raw vulnerability in his voice, the way he looked at you like he was begging for permission to do more, hit you in a way you weren't expecting.

His hands remained on you, tender yet needy, like he couldn’t bear the thought of letting go. “I want you to get used to it,” he repeated, his voice rough, pleading. “Please, if you’ll let me…”

You could feel the heat radiating off him, the intensity of everything building as his eyes locked onto yours, as though this moment was something more—something deeper—than just the heat between you.

There was no teasing, no games now. Just a raw, open honesty that left you breathless.

“You’re not as good at hiding what you want as you think,” you murmured, voice soft but laced with the heat of the moment.

His words were soft, but there was a tremor in them—vulnerable, unguarded, like he was afraid of the answer. His gaze searched yours, intense and almost desperate for reassurance.

“Wasn’t tryin’ to hide nothin’.” His voice had a quiet edge, a mix of frustration and something deeper. “You... you said I was beautiful… did you mean it?”

You could see the way his throat worked, the way his body seemed to hold itself back, waiting for your response. His question felt so much more than just a passing curiosity—it felt like he was seeking something from you. For a moment, you just looked at him, taking in the way he trembled beneath you, the earnestness in his voice. The way he needed to hear it again, needed to feel validated in a way that went beyond just the physical.

You let your fingers brush gently across his cheek, tracing the sharp line of his jaw as you gazed into his eyes. “I meant it,” you whispered, your voice soft, but full of the sincerity he needed to hear. “You’re gorgeous, Rafayel.”

His breath hitched at your words, his eyes darkening, but there was something different this time. The need had shifted, the hunger now mingled with something deeper—something more emotional.

***

The cool air from the A.C. blasted over your skin, a sharp contrast to the heat radiating from both of you. The scene was almost surreal—the hum of the air, the mess of tangled sheets, and the feeling of Rafayel beneath you, his body taut with anticipation, but still yielding, soft to your touch.

You weren’t sure exactly how you got here. It was all a blur of sensations—his hands on you, the heat of his body, his desperate kisses—and now you found yourself in your bed, his breath ragged as your teeth sank into the soft skin of his neck. His back arched up to meet you, responding to your touch with an almost frantic need.

You could feel the pulse of his heart beneath your lips, the way he shuddered every time your teeth made contact, leaving behind dark, angry love bites that were sure to last. He moaned, a low, guttural sound, as if he couldn’t get close enough, as if he needed more.

His legs were tangled with yours, bodies pressed so close that it was impossible to tell where one of you ended and the other began. You were so absorbed in him—his scent, his warmth, the way he writhed beneath you

Rafayel groaned, the sound deep and guttural, as your tongue traced over the sensitive mark you'd left on his neck, his hips bucking upward in response. His skin was hot, slick with sweat, his chest rising and falling rapidly beneath your hands as your fingers splayed across his bare chest.

You could feel his heart racing beneath your fingertips, the tension in his body only building as you met his hips with yours, the sensation of him pressing up into you sending a jolt through your own body. His eyes were half-lidded, mouth parted as he gasped for air, his grip on the sheets tight as though he was trying to ground himself in the moment.

Rafayel's breath hitched at the nickname, the teasing tone in your voice cutting through the haze of heat that clouded his mind. His body twitched beneath yours, his chest rising as your hands kneaded his skin with gentle insistence.

"Careful now, fishie baby," you murmured, lips pressing to the bite you had left on his neck, a soft kiss that made him shudder in response. He closed his eyes, a soft groan slipping from his throat as your hands worked over his chest.

“Don’t,” he panted, his fingers curling into the sheets beside him, but his voice was soft, almost pleading. “You know I can’t... I can’t control—”

He stopped mid-sentence as your hips rocked against his, making him forget whatever he was about to say. Instead, his breath hitched, and his back arched up again, trying to meet your movements.

“You can control it,” you whispered, lips curving against his skin as you kissed him again. The teasing, the soft touches, the way you knew just what buttons to press—it was intoxicating. “But you just don’t want to.”

His hands gripped your thighs, fingers digging into the soft flesh with urgency, as if trying to pull you closer, desperate for more. The heat between you both was almost unbearable, and you could feel the tension in his body, the way he ached for you.

You hummed in approval, your lips brushing his as your hands moved to trace the line of his jaw, feeling the rapid beat of his pulse under your fingertips. The way he was holding you, the way his body responded to every small movement, made the air feel thick with anticipation.

He was right on the edge, barely hanging on, and you could feel the way his muscles tensed, his breath hitching with each passing second. "I know you want more," you whispered, your voice low and teasing, knowing how badly he needed you to push him further.

But you held back just long enough to let the tension build, feeling his frustration mix with the desire in the air, until he couldn't take it any longer.

You kissed down his body, the sensation of your lips trailing over his skin sending a shiver through him. Each kiss, each gentle brush of your lips, left him breathless, his body taut beneath you. When you reached his chest, you paused for a moment, taking in the way his muscles twitched under your touch, the way his breath quickened.

He moaned softly as your lips pressed to the sensitive skin there, your hands sliding along his ribs, feeling the heat radiating off of him. His fingers found your hair, tangling in it as he pulled you closer, desperate for more of that touch, that connection.

The air was thick with the unspoken tension between you both, and as your lips moved lower, he let out a strangled gasp, his back arching into you again, searching for the next wave of sensation. He was completely undone, lost in the feeling of your touch, and you couldn’t help but smile at the power you had over him.

Rafayel’s nipples were a pretty shade of pink, his areolas and the buds formerly puffy- you had made sure of that with your teasing groping and kneading, taking them between your fingers and teasing them. You take a nipple into your mouth, tongue flicking over it as it stiffens impossibly more, peeking against your wet muscle, your free hand going to play with his other nipple, giving both attention., Biting it softly, you tug on it before sucking it. He mewls, throwing an arm over his eyes. The sound of his whine, soft and desperate, sent a shiver through you, making your heart race. His body tensed beneath you, every nerve alive with anticipation, and the vulnerability in his voice made it impossible to ignore how much he needed you. 

“S’good- ah, Miss Bodyguard, mm,” Rafayel’s voice was shaky, lip quivering in want. 

You paused for a moment, looking up at him through your lashes, your lips still hovering just above his skin. His chest rose and fell quickly, eyes locked on you after he lifted his arm with a mix of longing and something deeper—something more desperate.

"What's wrong?" you teased softly, your voice low and almost playful as you brushed your fingers over his skin, just enough to make him ache, but not enough to give him what he wanted. His whine only grew louder, more pleading.

He shifted beneath you, hands tugging at your hair again, trying to pull you closer, his breath ragged. "Please," he gasped, voice cracking slightly. "Please, don't tease... not now."

“Mmm….but what about what I want?”

His breath stuttered at your words, the weight of them settling over him like a slow burn. He lifted his head, eyes dark with need, lips parted in a silent plea for you to understand. His hands grab at you, and they tighten around your wrists, pulling you just a little closer but not enough to get what he wants. His body, still so tense and aching beneath you, was desperate to meet yours in every way, and yet, he couldn't quite push forward.

"Anything," he whispered, voice raw. "I’ll do anything, just—" He cut himself off, unable to finish the sentence, the frustration evident in his eyes.

"You'll do anything?" you whispered, your voice teasing, almost mocking. "What if I want you to wait?"

His plea came out in a rush, his voice thick with frustration and need, like a confession he couldn't keep in any longer. His hands clenched tighter around your wrists, pulling you even closer, his body pressing up against yours as though he couldn’t wait another second. The vulnerability in his eyes, the desperation in his voice—it was almost too much to resist.

"Please," he repeated, his words shaky, his breath shallow. "I can't take it... not like this." His lips parted, the tension in his body making every word sound almost like a plea for mercy.

You really couldn’t deny him. Not when he looked at you like that—eyes blown wide, lips parted, body trembling beneath you as he clung to your wrists like they were the only thing keeping him grounded.

A shaky breath left your lips as you finally, finally gave in, pressing yourself flush against him, your fingers threading into his hair. His whole body shuddered, his grip on you tightening as if afraid you might pull away again.

"Alright, fishie baby," you murmured against his lips, the teasing lilt in your voice softened by the warmth in your gaze. "I'll give you what you want."

And with that, you closed the space between you, letting him have everything.

So you sit up- just a little over him now, and look at his aching dick. 

Because fuck. Even his dick was pretty. You’d have to take a mental note to really admire it later. A grower, but still. It wasn’t like it was hard to get him up.  Lining him up with you was easy enough, but sinking down on him? 

His tip was flushed, crying. A pearl of pre building up, like he was just seconds away from just coming undone and you hadn’t even done anything except tease him and make out. 

It was adorable, really. 

So you don’t put it in. 

Because fuck that.

Scooting down albeit a little awkwardly, you lay on his thighs, looking at him cheekily. Rafayel’s eyes meet yours, and he swallows thickly. 

“Silly Rafayel- I think we’re on a first-name basis by now, wouldn’t you agree?” “I…”

You kiss his tip, and he gasps, arching his back off of the couch. “F-uck!”

And how cruel of you, to just grin, pressing your hand down on the soft of his stomach, forcing him to lay down, to hold back his twitching as you tease his dick with your licks and kisses. 

He lets out a sharp gasp, his head knocking back against the pillow as your palm presses firm against his stomach, grounding him. His body jerks, instinctively trying to follow every sensation, but you don’t allow it.

“Stay still,” you murmur, voice low and commanding, watching the way he shivers beneath you. His breath is ragged, his chest rising and falling in frantic, uneven movements as he stares down at you with wide, desperate eyes.

“I—I’m trying,” he whimpers, his fingers twitching against the sheets, like he doesn’t know whether to grab onto you or tear them apart.

You smirk, dragging your nails lightly down his stomach, watching as his muscles jump under your touch. “Trying isn’t doing, fishie.”

Rafayel whines, head tilting to the side, but he obeys—barely. His tail thrashes behind him, his fingers gripping the sheets so hard his knuckles pale, his whole body trembling with the effort of not moving, of letting you take control.

“Good boy,” you praise, and the way he shudders—gods, it’s almost enough to make you lose your patience. Almost.

Taking him into your mouth, you hollow your cheeks, letting out a moan as your spit all but covers his shaft. 

“F-fuck, fuck, fuck- I’m, o-oh!” 

You had started to pump him in your hand as you worshiped his tip, the sounds of squelching skin too much for his red ears to bear. 

“Y/n- oh, g-Y/n,  mm-ah!”

A mess. A nasty, lewd, beautiful mess.

Rafayel was trembling, panting, his skin glistening with sweat, his body writhing despite his best efforts to obey. His hands fisted in the sheets, his knuckles turning white as he tried, tried so hard to stay still like you told him. But the pleasure was too much—too overwhelming, too intoxicating—and he was losing himself to it, drowning in sensation.

His chest heaved with every ragged breath, his lips parted, wet and swollen from all his whimpering and moaning. His lavender hair stuck to his forehead in damp strands, his legs twitching and thrumming, seeking something to hold onto, anything to ground him.

"P-please," he choked out, his voice cracking, desperate, needy. His body arched again, barely able to contain himself, his fingers twitching like they wanted to grab you, to pull you closer, to make you move faster.

But you pull off of his dick completely, your lips connected to him with a string of spit before you wipe it off with the back of your hand. You grab his tip again, pressing your thumb into the pretty slit as you look at him. “God, I just wanna eat you up when you’re like this. Can I? Can you beg f’me pretty boy? C’mon, beg f’me.”

And now the Lemurian is just reduced to nothing but his own spit and tears, his cock pitifully hard and angry as he helplessly tried to get some kind of friction. But Rafayel wouldn’t beg anymore, oh no. He had said ‘please’ far too many times for his tastes. 

But when he reached to grab his length to give himself some semblance of relief, he cried out; you had swatted his hand away. 

“Gods- what the he- mmph!”

You were quick to fix yourself over him, delighting in the way his breath hitched.

The plummet was a slow one. 

Whether to tease him or to enjoy yourself, you didn’t know. Maybe both. His angry tip kissed your folds, and that alone had him squirming- as if he wasn’t already, though. 

“Steady, Raf’. Be a good boy, yeah?” “I- y-yeah, yeah, I’m a good boy,”

He of course, would never in the right state of mind call himself that, but god did he need it. So you sink down, gasping as he fills you up, the odd ridges of his cock against your walls making you nearly melt.  Because how.

It’s like the fish-for-brain’s dick was designed to fill you. What could you compare it to….

 It wasn’t fat or anything, not super super long..-

A knot? Yeah. But not exactly. 

As soon as you bottomed out, he threw his head back, gasping like it was too much. Okay, it was too much. But you’re helping him!

“Fuck- are all Lemurians like this, pretty boy?”

He doesn’t answer, his grip on the fat of your hips almost bruising. You start to move, rolling your hips to really get that motion

Up and down, up and down, up and down. His eyes were bleary, pretty and swollen from his tears, the pink almost matching his sore nipples. He’s grabbing onto you anywhere he could- your thighs, your tummy, your chest, your hips or waist… he just couldn’t ground himself!

“Y/n, oh gods, please, please- more-” You don’t answer, suddenly too focused on reaching a high, pretty lips forming a cute lil ‘o’ in surprise. 

Your surprise gives way to him finally able to take some semblance of control, hips bucking up into you like a wild animal. He kinda was a wild animal. 

“I-i need to- I’m sorry, ‘m sorry cutie, ‘m sorry miss body guard, ‘m sorry Y/-”

Your lips slam onto his again in a teeth-clashing kiss, letting him chase his high too as it suddenly dawned on you that you weren’t gonna last like you thought you would. The sound of skin slapping on skin, the lewd squelches, and fuck,  the taste of him- it was simply too much!

Sucking his tongue, he mewls into your mouth, and you swallow his pretty moans. 

And you both come early. There was no warning, or no warning you paid attention to, when he suddenly started bucking his hips faster, his cock dragging and kissin’, dragging and kissin’ all along your pretty pussy walls and shooting straight to your womb. 

“Rafayel- mmph!” 

It happens fast, how he flips you over to be the one laying on your back, hovering over you while he cries pathetically about how sorry he was for finishing inside, kissing your forehead, gasping for breath before ultimately falling over you, collapsing. 

***

The room is quiet now, save for the low hum of the A.C. and the steady rhythm of Rafayel’s breathing. His body is slack against the sheets, his chest rising and falling in the aftermath, completely spent. His lavender hair is a tousled mess against the pillow, damp strands sticking to his flushed skin.

You huff out a breath, watching him. He’s knocked out, utterly exhausted—but at least his ache has been alleviated. Finally.

Rolling onto your side, you brush a few strands of hair away from his face. He looks peaceful now, the tension that had wracked his body completely melted away.

You let out a soft chuckle, pressing a fleeting kiss to his temple before stretching out with a satisfied sigh.

You’d let him sleep.

Gods know he needed it.

[sheepispink]

Distance makes the Heart grow Fonder ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི Chapter 6 of my Sweet As Sugar Series (baker!reader x lt ghost

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི Summary: Simon leaves in deployment, though just before he goes, your father unintentionally sets a fire alight in Simon’s chest, one he’s never felt in years. It brings him to a realisation he didnt think was possible.

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————————

It’s surprising; in Soap’s entire career, he never thought he’d see the day that Ghost actually looked reluctant to come back to work. Usually he was the one to complain about everything he missed, especially in the mess hall when they grabbed their meals together. Though today Ghost’s eyes were particularly downturned, and he hadn't interrupted Soap once to tell him to do less speaking and more eating. “Ye not gonna tell me to shut up today?” He tilts his head towards the masked man before promptly shoving a bland potato in his mouth, chewing it without a care in the world.

“This tea is horrible; that's why.” He grunts, placing the cup down onto the table with so much force the liquid almost splashes out of the cup altogether. “Thought ya didn't care about the taste?” Soap raises a brow, even more confused. When had his Lt thought twice about how good his tea tasted? Sure, he’d been bragging about the cafe in town for a while now, but he didn't think anything would sway Riley this much. He’s only seen the man this annoyed that time he was given rice instead of pitta when they grabbed their post-deployment kebab.

“My standards have been raised.” Ghost scoffs a little, watching as Soap gulps down a large swig of his strong coffee as always—licking his lips from the three sugars he had just stirred in. “Are you going to finally tell me who that lass was now? Gaz is dying to know too.” He rests his elbows on the table, grinning cheekily at the man opposite, who only shoos him back and narrows his eyes in a faux glare. “You told Gaz?”

“Wait till Capt’ comes back–”

Ghost wasn't sure how to feel about his team’s sudden interest in his private life, but he supposed it seemed natural given that he wasn't one for making friends, let alone getting close to the baker girl in the town they frequented off deployments. “She works at the bakery, that’s all. I helped her with some heavy things.” He chooses to omit the part where he had willingly joined you on a mini road trip and spent time with you at the winter market. Soap will definitely never know about the incident at your apartment either.

”Wait, she’s the one who makes those pastries your unit had? We ‘ave to pay her a visit too. I mean, my mouth watered when i smelt ‘em.” He laughs, remembering the time he had begged Ghost to let him try just a tad of the cookie you had graciously provided him once. He’d take the death glare, especially since after he ate half, he had easily decided it was the best one he’d ever tasted. Besides, he wanted to see what had caught Ghost’s eye to the point he spent more time off base than on. Unfortunately, the masked man had caught onto it quickly, standing with the tray in his hands. “Yeah, you go spillin’ crumbs on yourself in the middle of the briefing we have in ten.” He rolls his eyes, already expecting the alarm in Soap’s eyes as he quickly stands and throws his tray away too—he always had a tendency to rely on Ghost as a personal reminders app.

————

The meeting seemed to last forever, and he had to adjust himself to stand straight every so often just so his mind wouldn’t wander off with the memories of only last week. Though, he couldn’t keep them away for much longer since as soon as he was on the treadmill, everything in his mind was let free. The thing was, even though he hadn't said it directly, Johnny was right—you had caught his eye in a way that he couldn't even figure out himself. From the day he saw you in that shop, dancing along to a song that you embarrassedly shut off as soon as he entered, to the pretty smile you flash every time he enters the shop. In fact, your demeanour seems to light up without you even realising; it’s adorable, really. He notices the pep in your step, the slightly higher pitch in your voice, and even the way you greet the customers with happiness just ‘cause you’re eager to draw your doodle on the side of his coffee cup again. Maybe if he had a little more experience in all of this, he would’ve teased you about it all, or he would even go as far as to admit that you’ve made his heart thump more than any life-threatening situation will. Though, if he told you that then you might just force him to a doctor out of sheer worry.

What if you don’t even see it the same way? What if you’re just being friendly and he’s acting like a creep, reading into all of your actions? He ramps up the speed on the treadmill a little more, his thighs starting to burn the more forceful his strides grow. It’s empty in this room, no sound around save for the heavy thump of his boots bouncing off the walls. He’s heard female soldiers complain before; they huff about how the younger soldiers ogle, and the older lieutenants shamelessly give their remarks. What if he ruins everything and makes you uncomfortable? He’s not even sure he can handle a relationship; he always thought he could never commit to it, nor did he think he could put the constant energy and thoughts into caring so much for somebody. But with you, it just comes so naturally; he barely has to think twice when he converses with you, even less when you chatter to him about something that happened the other day. Relationships always seemed like obligations to him, even if the girl was nice or sweet; something always sucked the life out of him dry until he broke up with them just for their own sake. He didn't want the same to happen to you; no he wouldn't dare hurt you in such a cruel way.

Then what, should he just pull away from you altogether?

That thought alone stills him, the idea of never seeing you again making his body still like a bucket of cold ice dumped over his head. His feet falter as his heart stammers, and his hands can only graze the handles before his knees hit the floor with a painful slam—sliding off the treadmill altogether in a heap of limbs. He looks down in shock, more so down at himself as he sits on the floor in front of the treadmill he had accidentally pushed to the maximum speed. Damnit; he really has fallen for you.

————————-

The little bell rings as he pushes the glass door open; it’s the day before he leaves for deployment, and he was hoping he’d see your grin one last time before he goes. To his dismay, you’re not on shift today, likely doing a grocery run or something similar. Today, your parents are handling the shop, and although you informally introduced him once, he’s almost sure that they don't approve of him. It’s not like they’ve made it obvious; it just seems inevitable due to his chosen attire and his line of work. Naturally, he hadn't expected your father to smile at him widely and know his order before he could say it.

“Flat white or black today? No tea today, unfortunately.”

Simon can only blink in surprise, clearing his throat in hopes he doesn’t sound too hoarse. “Flat white. I’ve got deployment tomorrow, so I'll have to indulge now rather than later.” He doesn't usually add on detail, but he feels like he’s obliged to, just for the sake of seeming a little better towards your parents. Thankfully, there’s not a hint of the disdain he expected on your father’s face; he only laughs, ringing in the order whilst he turns to make the drink for him. “I’d hardly call a flat white an ‘indulgent’, kid.”

Simon barely gets the chance to acknowledge the fact someone just called him ‘kid’ before he’s talking again, and he feels himself stand a little straighter to make sure he doesn't look like some sleazy boy.

“She’s gonna be upset, y’know? Maybe you’ll be better off paying a stunt double to take your place instead of saying you’re on deployment.” The man chuckles again, his face lighting up the same way you do, and you’ve clearly learnt his technique of pouring the steamed milk too.

“I’m sure she’ll forget by the second day; the other customers will have to suffice with all her stories.” Simon brushes off your potential reaction, almost positive that you wouldn't even lose sleep on the matter. Besides, you’re plenty more friendly than he’ll ever be; he’s sure you’ll make quick friends with the other regulars.

“Forget? I won't hear the end of it until you return. I don't know what you did to that girl, but she’s been as bright as the sun since you showed up.” The older man pressed the lid onto the cup, turning around to hand it to Simon. “We’re grateful, y’know? She had a tough time when we first opened; it didn't help that we couldn't afford her further education.”

“I.. didn't know that.” He can't say much else, the words spilling out and surprise evident in his tone.

“We travelled a bit before buying this bakery, so she’s never had many constant friends; it was out of our control.” The man packs up a small bag, placing it on the counter for Ghost to take as well before giving him a grateful smile. “She’d have come around eventually, but the point is, she’s very fond of you. Always makes sure she has your favourite biscuits restocked too.” He chuckles, and Simon stares down at the bag, the faint outline of chocolate bourbons inside. He truly was a lucky man.

———-

Ghost had a hypothesis, and that was that the simplest missions were always the longest. Well, not literally, but they felt as if they dragged on forever. He was positioned up in these mountains to scope the area prior to his team’s entry; however they wouldn't be here for another two hours anyway due to unforeseen circumstances. That meant that for the meantime, he was a sitting duck. It also gave way to the thoughts he hadn’t been able to consider ever since he first processed them, promising himself he’d debate it later after this all blew over.

The thing is, he couldn't fathom the idea of you feeling low or even having a few friends. He considers himself to be on the loner side, considering most people perceived him that way, and he didn't exactly contact anyone outside of the military save from his old boss when he worked as a butcher—he always said happy new year to him. The difference is, he kind of liked it that way, but clearly you haven't been given a choice in that matter. It fills him with an urge, one that’s a little out of place for him yet fits perfectly in his chest. He wants to make sure you’re happy, well, as far as he can do so anyway. And on the off chance you do get upset, he wants to be the one to cheer you up after.

It’s weird to him, having someone that needs him as a presence in their life, someone who’ll miss him when he’s gone. But what’s worse for him, is that he realises now that he misses you every time you’re gone. He thought he had gone crazy the first time Johnny went on deployment without him, and he had to listen to Gaz talk about the latest football game all lunch— not that Johnny usually had anything better to say either. He had only realised he missed him when Soap described the same feeling when Gaz had left for deployment. He figured it comes with working closely with others very often; after all, being forced out of a routine would never feel right. So, he was even more surprised when he had only spent a month and a bit getting to know you, but somehow every moment away just seemed duller.

That night the evac trucks take him home quietly, along with the rest of his team. They’re exhausted, Soap and Gaz more so than himself; they're practically nodding off beside him. Not that he minds being their pillow for the ride, but he does stop to wonder what it’d feel like if your head was the one on his shoulder. He’d probably wrap an arm around you—if you’d allow him, of course—and maybe just sit in silence whilst a movie plays. You’d be happy with someone around, he’d be happy to have a quiet night in, and maybe a quiet sleep again.

That’s the moment he decided what he was going to do and what he’s currently doing right now. It’s two am, and he’s just got back, barely even washed up yet. His phone is in his hands, your little profile picture grinning at him cheekily as he stares at the unsent message.

“Are you free for dinner on Wednesday? My treat, and an apology for leaving you for so long.”

—————————-

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ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི Taglist:

@hidden-treasures21 @bieberismysoulmate @gallantys @tessakate @galactict3a @krispymagazinepizza-blog @silas-aeiou @kupids-arrow

[blueblossomrose]

This post is part of the Twisted Parents Series.

Content: Post-canon, fem!afab!mc, fluffy, too much fluffy, twst boys with teenage children. And questionable humor, of course. My trademark.

Notes: So, my country is in summer and here in Brazil summer is naturally hot since it's ahem, tropical country, but this year summer has been ABSOLUTE HELL abnormally hot so I need something to keep from going crazy. Preferably air conditioning on 24 hours, but since I don't have that option, I'm going to turn my frustration into fluffy.

Comments and reblogs are very welcome ♡

Summer Season

The Queendom of Roses had never faced such an intense heat wave. Soon its residents were euphoric, especially certain not-so-eccentric families.

It was frankly absurd. People were already waking up exhausted, walking through the streets like zombies, the heat coming directly from the sun almost like it's melting their brains.

Everything was so hot that it was torture to be outside during the middle of the day.

It got to the point that the air conditioning in Riddle's office simply broke down. He spent the whole day attending to restless children and stressed mothers, amidst sweaty papers and a weak fan that only threw hot air from one side to the other. When he finally got home, sweaty and breathing heavily, his patience was already exhausted.

In this situation, it was absolutely unthinkable to stay home listening to his children complaining about the heat all day. [Name]'s suggestion, said with a carefree smile while fanning her face with a magazine, was that they go to the beach.

Riddle, of course, initially refused. The thought of sand sticking to his skin and the sun that would burn until his whole body was red made him even more exhausted.

But after the insistence of the two of them —his wife and daughter — he had to sigh and give in.

Now, there he was, sitting under a red-and-white striped umbrella, a wide-brimmed hat protecting his fair skin. His blue-gray eyes narrowed as he watched Violete, who was trying to sneak away to the water.

“Where do you think you’re going, young lady?” Riddle asked, his voice firm but not exactly stern.

“Uhhh… swimming?” the girl replied, as if it were obvious.

“I told you about that. Not without putting on sunscreen,” Riddle said flatly, pointing to the bottle in the bag next to him. The girl rolled her eyes and grumbled, but eventually reluctantly went back to her mother to apply sunscreen.

Meanwhile, Alex was sitting quietly under the umbrella next to [Name]. He shared the chair with his mother, who laughed softly at Violete's complaints. Alex seemed oblivious to everything, completely immersed in a game on his old blue Gameboy.

Riddle, from time to time, gave his son critical looks. It's not like he hated Alex's appreciation for video games, but God, did he have to have his face buried in that all day?

Alex had been like this since he was 9, when he got his Gameboy, gift from his mother. Now, at 14, he kept the same device, only changing the case from time to time, as if it were a way to personalize his digital adventure companion.

Violete, at sixteen, It was both what you expected and what you didn't expect from a teenager. Energetic and full of life, with a sarcastic and rebellious streak, her excitement was almost contagious. She had her own hobbies which involved video games with her brother as much as books and cricket. She had already jumped into the water as soon as the sunscreen ritual was over.

The short red strands, which she often curled, were now back to their natural state, flowing straight as they got wet. She was swimming happily, challenging small waves, when she noticed a group of people not far away. Two instructors were helping some tourists climb onto a large board, probably part of those leisure programs offered at the beach – canoeing, stand-up paddleboarding, something like that.

Violete swam closer and watched for a moment, until an idea popped into her head. Turning back to the sand, she raised her voice and called: “Dad!”

Riddle, who was finally starting to relax in his chair, looked up suspiciously. “What now?”

“Let’s get on the board together! It’ll be fun!” she shouted.

“Violete, I’m not getting on that board with you,” he replied immediately, with a seriousness that made Alex let out a small muffled laugh on the other side. [Name], next to him, just raised her eyebrows with a look of “let’s see how long you can resist.”

However, Violete was persistent, and his daughter’s insistent expression – the one she clearly inherited from her mother – eventually won out. A few minutes later, Riddle was in the water, visibly uncomfortable as he was guided to the board by a patient instructor and an overly excited daughter.

"This is a bad idea, Violete," he muttered, already feeling regret setting in as he put on a life jacket. "I'm a doctor, I know exactly how many ways this can go wrong."

"Dad, you need to relax!" Violete replied, smiling as she helped him onto the board, where she was already balanced with impressive ease. "It's going to be fun, trust me!"

But before Riddle could argue, the board swayed dangerously, and he grabbed onto his daughter with a suddenness she hadn't expected. "Violette!" he exclaimed, desperately trying to steady himself.

"Dad, you're pulling me under!" she protested, as she tried to steady them both. Riddle, for his part, was focused on not falling into the water, which seemed increasingly inevitable.

He looked back, seeing [Name] on the sand, waving at them with an amused smile. Alex didn't even look – the sound of the Gameboy buttons continued, indifferent to the family chaos that was happening in the sea.

The minutes when Violette guided the board towards the waves were the moments when Riddle despaired the most, although they managed to at least catch a good wave, even though they were completely unbalanced.

Finally, after a few minutes that seemed like an eternity, the inevitable happened. The board rocked to one side, then the other, and they both fell into the water with a big splash.

When he emerged, wet and irritated, but also, to his surprise, smiling, Riddle heard Violete's crystal-clear laugh.

"See, Dad? It was fun, wasn't it?!" her hands hit the water splashing more water on him.

"Ugh, stop!" even while complaining, Riddle was smiling, sometimes returning the splashes of water on his daughter.

"Huh? Where are dad and Vi?" Alex questioned as he lifted his head, [Name] laughed and pointed, just long enough for Alex to see his dad and sister catch a wave together before falling into the water again. Riddle was almost as desperate as you could imagine while Violete was in front on the board with the biggest smile in the world. A frankly hilarious frame.

The blazing midday sun seemed even more intense that unusual summer in the Queendom of Roses. The oppressive heat made even going out for simple activities like shopping at the Clover bakery a challenge. Still, the frozen treats that Trey made had become a sensation. Artisanal ice cream, fresh fruit pies, and refreshing drinks were flying off the shelves.

One afternoon, sitting at the small oak table in the back of the bakery, Trey rubbed his sweaty forehead as he watched his children play. Tim and Thomas were more interested in hanging out by the fan, while Rose ran around with seemingly inexhaustible energy despite the heat. He glanced over at [Name], who was waving a makeshift paper fan and mumbling something about how hot it's outside. It was then that an idea struck him.

How about take a trip to the falls?

A cool, peaceful place, and the perfect local to cool off.

Rose, being the youngest, immediately jumped up and down with excitement, Tim and Thomas, on the other hand, teenagers already at an age where they'd rather stay home with their phones or their own hobbies, didn't seem so excited. But family trip is mandatory, after all. It was an agreement they made with their parents.

Trey and [Name] arrived at the trailhead with their children, each carrying light backpacks filled with towels, snacks, and bottles of water. Rose bounced excitedly ahead, her small backpack bouncing as she droned on and on about how the waterfalls would be.

Tim, the oldest, trailed slowly, already sweating in the heat, his expression clearly reflecting his displeasure with the hike. “Why couldn’t we just buy ice cream and stay home with the fan on?” he muttered, earning an amused look from Trey.

Thomas, on the other hand, was somewhere in between, half-interested in the hike but clearly dead tired. He walked with his hands in his pockets, backpack and bag on the shoulder.

After a while, the trail opened up to reveal the waterfall. The view was spectacular: crystal clear water cascaded down, creating a refreshing mist that immediately took the edge off the heat. The surrounding vegetation was dense, with bright green leaves and colorful wildflowers that looked even more vivid in the sun.

Rose ran towards the shore, stopping only when Trey called her, asking her to wait while he and [Name] found a good spot for the towel. Tim, sighing, threw himself into the shade of a large rock, lying down like a sack of potatoes. “Wake me up when we leave,” he muttered, eliciting a laugh from [Name].

Thomas, however, took advantage of the distraction. He grabbed a handful of cold water and silently approached Rose. “Hey, Rose, look up!” he shouted, pointing to the top of the waterfall. When his sister looked up, he splashed her with ice-cold water, making her squeal.

“Thomas!” she protested, but she was already splashing him back, starting a water fight that soon involved Trey trying to calm them both down so that they wouldn't fall and hurt themselves on the rocks.

Meanwhile, [Name] was standing next to Tim, offering him a bottle of cool water. "You know you're going to want to get in the water soon," she said.

Tim opened a lazy eye. "Only if someone carries me there."

After a while, Tim gave in to the heat and joined his brothers in the water. Trey and [Name] watched, relaxing on the towel on the floor. Thomas and Rose were now trying to build a "dam" with rocks and branches, while Tim stood nearby, pretending not to care but discreetly helping them find the right branches.

As the time has passed, Trey stood up, adjusting his glasses and getting everyone's attention. "Time for a snack!" he announced, grabbing a small cooler with fruit, sandwiches, and some homemade pastries from the bakery.

Rose was the first to run, still dripping watee, while Thomas and Tim followed her. Like three Gremlins, they sat down and ate despite shivering from the cold from the thermal shock of the ice-cold water on the hot climate.

The end of the afternoon was spent peacefully, with the family resting and enjoying the relaxing sound of the waterfall. When they finally started to pack up their things, Rose complained that she wanted to stay a little longer, but Trey promised that they could return soon, eliciting a smile from her. The walk back was less lively – tiredness had finally taken over the trio, mainly Rose who was the central animation. Trey, with a soft smile, carried her backpack along with his, while [Name] chuckled softly at the funny observations her tired daughter even so made about every detail of the trail.

The hot season brought with it an unexpected relief from Cater’s hectic schedule. The scorching sun made everyone crave a break, and for him, that meant finishing work early and finding something more exciting to do with his family. After all, there was nothing worse than a interview in the sweltering heat, with people feeling sweaty and uncomfortable.

With an excited smile, Cater dragged his wife [Name] and children, Astrid and Rory, to a nature reserve by the sea. The place was perfect for disconnecting from the world. It offered ample space to swim and even snorkel with some of the sea creatures, creating a relaxing atmosphere full of photo opportunities that he loved to capture.

Astrid quickly raised her hand, as if she had asked an important question. “Can I swim with the sharks?” she said with a sparkle in her eyes, her light orange hair lightly blowing in her face as she looked anxiously at her parents.

“Why on earth would you want to swim with sharks?” Rory replied.

[Name] couldn’t help but laugh, trying to lighten the situation. “I’m glad you want to go on an adventure, dear, but I think it would be better to start with something lighter, don’t you think?” she looked at Astrid with a calm smile.

Astrid grimaced, not completely convinced, crossing her arms and looking at her parents as if she were going to continue the argument. But before she could complain any further, a hand appeared underneath her, lifting her off the ground with ease. Cater placed her on his back, with Astrid laughing and squealing with excitement.

"Hey, hey! No arguing, let's just enjoy the moment, how about seeing the manta rays?" Cater suggested. "They like getting close to humans, and they're super harmless. It'll be really cool."

Astrid, with her face already lit up with a wide smile, put the grimace aside, agreeing with her father. She was excited about the idea, even more than with the sharks. Rory, still suspicious, looked at his sister and then at his parents, with a slight sigh. He couldn't deny that their enthusiasm was contagious.

And so the family began their walk to the water sports area, with the sound of waves crashing against the rocks and the summer heat enveloping them all. Cater was happy to be sharing this moment with his wife and children, finally having some time to relax and enjoy life outside the chaos of journalistic work. Over the years, he has learned to appreciate life off-screen more.

To escape the hell that was the city that day, Ace decided that the best solution would be to take his family to a nearby river. Nothing too elaborate, but at least there they could cool off without having to spend a fortune on cold drinks or abuse his magic with cooling spells, which were a luxury that he, as someone from the ministry's accounting department, was not willing to abuse.

For a while, everything went peacefully. [Name] took off her shoes and dipped her feet in the water, relaxing as she watched her children venture further ahead. Lilian had already tied her orange-red hair into a ponytail, while Jasper stood with his arms crossed, evaluating whether it was worth getting in the water or if it would be more fun to tease his sister. Ace, on the other hand, already had his feet submerged and was throwing some water up, enjoying the coolness.

It was then that, out of nowhere, the tranquility was broken.

“So, Dad,” Lilian began, crossing her arms and giving him an inquisitive look, “How many girlfriends did you have before Mom?”

Ace blinked in confusion as he finished stretching in the water. “What? Where did that question come from?”

"You had a girlfriend before mom. And you didn't think to tell us, huh?"

Ace glanced sideways at [Name], who just chuckled, clearly enjoying the situation.

“What have you been telling them?” he asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Me? Nothing!” [Name] replied with an innocent smile. “But your brother loves to tell stories.”

Ace groaned softly. His brother... he should have known.

"Lili, I didn't even know your mother when I broke up with this girlfriend!" he tried to argue to see if his daughter would change the subject.

But Lilian quickly dodged him and kept her accusatory expression. "Even so!" she insisted, now going closer to her mother, as if seeking reinforcement. "Uncle said you were a jerk to mom in the beginning! And what about the other girl?! You were nice to her?!"

Ace ran his hand over his face in disbelief. He had faced powerful adverse situations, being a troublemaker at school… but nothing compared to the fury of a teenage daughter determined to seek justice for her mother.

"Is this an interrogation?" he asked, raising his hands in surrender.

"It depends on your answer," Lilian replied with a frown.

"Look, I wasn't the easiest guy to deal with back then," Ace admitted, scratching the back of his neck. "But I wasn't that bad either, okay?"

"What does that mean?!" Lilian insisted.

Ace sighed. "You know what? I'll ask your uncle what else he's been telling you. I mean, I should be enjoying the water, not defending my reputation from sixteen years ago!"

"Maybe if you hadn't been such a jerk, you wouldn't have to defend yourself now," Jasper scoffed.

"Are you two going to go swimming or keep tormenting me?"

Lilian and Jasper exchanged glances and, without warning, threw water at their father at the same time, this one who gasped offendedly.

"Sweetie, don't be so hard on your father," [Name] intervened, placing her hand gently on Lilian's hair, who was still pouting. "He wasn't perfect, but he learned a lot. And he certainly wasn't the only one who made mistakes." she chuckled, stroking her daughter's hair. "Although he really deserves some of the karma, I'd say."

"Oh, for the love of—!" Ace exclaimed, feigning indignation, while Jasper, on the other side, burst out laughing, clearly enjoying the situation. Ace an his wet hands over his face, as if that could alleviate the embarrassment. "This is absurd! Look here, I wasn't that horrible! What are you three trying to do to me, huh? A public lynching? Lili, I promise you, the only woman I've ever truly loved was your mother. No other woman has ever made me feel like she did, you little brat."

Lilian was still frowning. "Really?" she asked, a little suspicious.

"More than serious," he replied, with that carefree expression he always used when he tried to seem convincing. "And do you know what happens to those who don't believe in their dads?"

Before Lilian could react, Ace grabbed her by the waist, in a quick and agile movement, dragging her straight into the water.

She let out a high-pitched scream, taking everyone by surprise. "DAD!" she shouted, between laughter and protests, as she tried to free herself.

Water splashed around, and Lilian, now soaking wet, laughed loudly as she struggled to escape her father's embrace, but Ace, laughing along, held her tight. "Do you doubt me? Do you really think I don't love your mother?"

"I never said that!" Lilian replied, laughing and trying to balance herself. "But that doesn't justify throwing me in the water!"

Ace chuckled once more, releasing her and raising his hands in surrender. "Fine, fine, little brat. Just don't question my love for you too."

The unbearable heat that had never been seen before in Queendom of Roses was demanding drastic measures from Deuce. He even thought about taking his family to a place like a beach or a river, but when he got home, he found an unexpected scene in the backyard.

The sound of children's laughter and water jets echoed in the hot air. His children and his wife were completely absorbed in the refreshing game with the garden hose. Matthew, in colorful shorts, held the hose tightly, laughing loudly as he shot jets of water in the direction of his mother and brother. Raphael, smaller and more agile, tried to escape by running clumsily, but was hit full on in the chest, making him let out a shrill laugh. [Name] was also soaked, her white blouse now stuck to her body due to the water, and strands of hair stuck to her face as she laughed, trying to shield herself behind her youngest son.

The scene are completely chaotic.

"Hey!" Deuce's voice broke the moment, firm and unexpected. His serious expression made Matthew's eyes widen and lowered the hose, "What are you doing getting your mother and brother wet like that, Matthew?" Deuce asked, crossing his arms.

"Sorry, Dad, we were just-" Matthew started to justify himself, but was interrupted by Deuce snatched the hose from his hands and held it tightly.

A mischievous glint crossed his determined gaze, the same look he used to have in their old delinquent phase. "It has to be this way!" He turned the hose directly on Matthew and Raphael, blasting them with a jet of water strong enough to make them scream and laugh at the same time.

Matthew tried to run away, but Deuce was spot on—he aimed right at the boy’s back, making him squirm in surprise. Raphael, laughing nervously, tried to hide behind his mother, but Deuce quickly changed his target, and soon a cold jet hit [Name] as well. “Deuce!” she shouted, laughing as she raised her arms in a futile attempt to defend herself. “It's not fair!”

“Of course it's fair,” he snapped, amused by the general confusion that ensued. The boys joined in, trying to grab the hose from their father, but Deuce was faster and dodged it easily.

[Name] took advantage of a moment of distraction to run to a forgotten bucket in the corner of the garden. Before Deuce knew it, she had filled it and poured the water straight over his head. The shock of the icy water made Deuce hold his breath for a moment.

"Ah, now you've done it," he murmured, a smile breaking across his face before he charged at them, picking [Nome] up, making her squeal as he picked up the hose from the floor. Raphael and Matthew ran to escape, but Deuce was too fast to them. Within seconds, they were all completely soaked, laughing as if the unbearable heat had been forgotten.

Eventually, the garden became a water war zone, if it wasn't already before.

[wolls-angel]

୨୧ ‧₊˚ what took so long? - j. woll ˚₊‧ ୨୧

pairing: j. woll x fem!reader summary: After almost 20 years of pining, it finally happens... request: in desperate need of jo woll childhood best friends to lovers. like i’m talking best friends since birth, and then admit they’re in love with each other at age 26. biggest slow burn ever 😫 word count: 1.6k warning(s):fluff, cheating (not between joe and reader), not much dialogue, longer than normal, not proof read notes: i have a love hate relationship with this fic. joe is so cute in it so i like it more. lmk what you think. i hope you love it !! xoxo

Everyone knows Joseph Woll as a hockey superstar. Young guy with his whole hockey career ahead of him. One of the most promising young goalies in the NHL. It's true. He is all of that. But to you, he's Joey.

You met Joe when you moved into your grandparents house. You were 8. Joe was the son of your grandmother's cleaning lady and she was eager to introduce the two of you. "It's nice when you have someone you know in a new situation," you remember her saying.

It was summer, so Shelley invited you over to her house to meet Joe and her other kids, Michael and Emma. You were sold when she said they had a swimming pool.

A few days later, she picked you up with Joe and Emma in the car and drove you to the Dunkin' near Joe's house. At this point, you and Joe had only exchanged one word. You both ordered the same thing (a lemonade) and your remember looking over at him and smiling. It was the first time you saw his face in full and, even at eight years old, you could tell it would be the end of you.

Your friendship only grew as you went to school together for years, learning all about each other and you just kept falling for him. You went to all his hockey games, helped him with his English homework, gave him advice about girls (even though he never took it). You watched him grow into a gorgeous, 6'4, kind, compassionate and respectful man. The man he is today.

As teenagers, you tried confessing your love so many times but your fear always paralysed you before you told him anything. What if he said no? What if he didn't want you? What if it ruined the friendship you had worked so hard to develop? It wasn't a risk you were willing to take.

All the way through high school, Joe never had a girlfriend. He would have a crush here or there but never pursued it. He always made up an excuse as to why he couldn't take a girl out.

"I'm too busy with hockey" was the usual response when they asked about his love life. Then his family would look at you and smile, as if to say "Well, she's right there".

You never dated either. For a much different reason though. You just kept holding out hope. Always thinking maybe that Valentine's day he would ask you. It never happened. And it wasn't even like you couldn't have went out. People were always asking you. It just wasn't Joe.

Joe took you to prom because neither of you had partners to go with. It was his mom's idea but he wasn't upset about it. You wore a beautiful dark red gown and had your hair in an updo, very stylish at the time. Joe knew you wanted the night to be special so he saved up to rent a limo. You told him he didn't have to but he insisted.

"It's the least I can do. You're going to the prom with me."

Joe also took you to the NHL draft with him in 2016. You remember the look on his face like it was yesterday. It was exactly where he wanted to be. An NHL prospect.

The next few years were hard. You went off to university in New York City while Joe went to train with the Toronto Maple Leafs. You would visit each other as often as you could. You'd go up for reading week. He'd come down for Spring Break. Things like that.

Summer was really the only time you would both spend time in your hometown. You would go boating with Joe, babysit his little sister, go to a party or a bar. It was nice. It felt like in the midst of all this change, there was something normal.

Then, in your third year at NYU, you met Charlie. He was kind, tall handsome and a pre med major. You met him at a cafe near campus, where you were both studying for midterms. He asked you out and you realized it was kinda embarrassing to keep waiting for Joe when he lived so far. He probably had a girlfriend. He just didn't care enough to tell you.

Charlie took you out one Friday after your lecture and swept you off your feet. He was a true gentleman. And you were happy. You called Joe a few days after you and Charlie made it official to tell him the good news.

"Oh... wow, Y/N, that's... amazing. I'm so happy for you," is all he said.

You were too happy to question Joe's sad tone or his hesitation in congratulating you. You were too happy. Your relationship with Charlie only lasted 3 months though.

You had made plans to meet Charlie at his place after your lecture. You had ended early because you had a headache and wanted to just chill before you went out for your 3 month anniversary dinner. Long story short, you caught him cheating. On your anniversary with some girl from his bio class.

You were heartbroken.

But enough about the past. Let's jump to the present.

Joe's NHL debut. You were so excited to get your mind off the break up and the fact that you needed to find a job after graduation. You just wanted to see Joe and support him. Fittingly, the game was against St. Louis and all of Joe's family and friends came to support him.

The game was amazing. Toronto won 3-2 in overtime, but Joe saved 32 shots. You could tell how proud the rest of the team was during the hug line. Joe didn't know you were there to watch him so after the game, you and his mom left to take you home to surprise him.

Once there you hide behind the couch in the living room. Joe walks in and the whole room explodes with applause and congratulations from his friends and family. You can't hold it in any longer and...

Oof.

You run into Joe at full speed, knocking him off balance.

"Wha-... Y/N?", he says, in complete shock. You giggle into his chest, squeezing him tight, "Hey, Joey. Miss me?". The smile on his face when you look up could have blinded you. Almost immediately, he engulfs you in the biggest hug possible. "Fuck yeah, I missed you," he mumbles, his head buried in your neck. After a second or two he lets go and you two enjoy the party as usual. That is, until right after dinner.

"Y/N, can we chat in the other room?"

You feel a hand grab your wrist. It's Joe. You brow furrows in confusion but you nod and he pulls you hastily into his bedroom. He motions for you to sit on the bed while he closes the door.

"I missed you, Y/N. How's school?" he sits down beside you. "Good. I'm so ready to be done," you respond with a smile. "Maybe when you're done, you can move up here. Be near me again". You giggle, "I'd love that, Joey".

"So, no Charlie today?"

You sigh. Right. Charlie. "Uh, no. We broke up a few weeks ago," you look up at Joe and his eyes soften. "Shit, I'm sorry. Are you ok? What happened?". You feel you eyes well with tears. "He cheated on me. With some girl in his class," you sniffle and lean into Joe, "I was finally happy, you know? Not just waiting".

"Waiting?" he asks, "Waiting for what?"

Shit. You have said too much. You look down at your hands, sitting in your lap, "Nothing, don't worry about it".

"Y/N, tell me," he places his hand on your chin to force you to look up at him, "I have known you for almost 20 years. I can tell when something's wrong".

You look into his eyes and realize maybe it's time you were honest with Joe. What's the worst thing that happens? He says no and things stay the same. Maybe.

You get up and stand in front of Joe who is still sitting on the bed. "I have been waiting my whole entire life to say these words, but I'm scared and I have every reason to be. You are my best friend, Joe, and I don't want stuff to be awkward between us. But I may have had too much beer earlier at the game and I'm a little tipsy so fuck it. I have been waiting for you. To ask me out. To care. To love me the way I have loved you since we met when we were 10 years old. And I have never been sure if you wanted me but I talked to my therapist last week and she asked me what I wanted and all I could think of was you. I want you, Joseph Woll. So if this is the end of our friendship, so be it, but I want you to know that I want you to want me, Joe. It's ok if you don't but," you pause and collapse down onto the bed beside him, face in your hands, "I don't know. I'm so sorry".

There is a few beats of silence before Joe speaks.

"Y/N, baby, what took so long?"

You freeze. Huh? What? Excuse me? You look up at Joe, bewildered, and all he does is smile. And then he leans in and before you know, his lips connect with yours. His lips are oddly soft and all you can smell is his cologne. You let yourself melt into him and he feels like home. Where you were always meant to be. Suddenly, Joe whispers into the kiss, "I want you too, Y/N. I really do".

[copperbadge]

Hi CB! I've followed your work for a while and I'm curious - I've seen that you do many times on a repetitive and consistent manner.......how? By the love of gods, how? What is this magic? Is it inherited? Genetic? Signed, please-halp

Hey, thanks for reading! I think you may have missed a word in the ask so I am taking a best guess at what you were inquiring about, but I'm guessing you were asking about consistent and repeat ability to write and post fiction? Gosh that sounds egotistical of me but I used to be known for being prolific and I think I'm still known for, if not having the BEST prose, at least having the ability to be of consistent quality. :)

The good news is that it is neither magic nor genetic, and one of those things that anyone can achieve -- it just takes time and a bit of effort. The secret is that I wasn't always even a good writer; what I have always been is a passionate writer. My early fanfic, from fourteen to eighteen, was actually very bad. But I did it a lot. It's hard to get truly good at something if you aren't passionate about it because you won't want to do it so often that you get good at it, but fortunately I fell in love with it. And once you're good at something you do want to do it all the time!

In my teens I wrote absolutely tons of fanfic, and if you were to read it (you can't, it's not under my name and some of it is lost to the ages) you could actually see me improving, because I started out so terribly bad. We're talking "Multiple people speaking in one paragraph" bad. But I kept writing and took feedback and when I went to college I took classes (I had a kind of unofficial minor in playwriting, including having several short plays produced) and when I came back to fandom after college I was...decent. And this you can trace, if you start reading at the start of my AO3 account where all my fanfic since 2003 is stashed; you can see I used to be more awkward in my prose, my pacing wasn't as good, what I considered relevant to include for the story wasn't as polished as it is now.

So, there are almost five million words on my AO3 account, which doesn't include anything I wrote before 2003; I'm forty-five and started writing when I was just shy of fifteen. This will be my thirtieth year writing fiction in April. If you spend that much time writing, even if you don't necessarily TRY to improve, you will learn and grow. And you learn how your own creative process works and how to wrestle with that, so you become consistent simply because you gain a kind of mental muscle-memory.

The thing is, quality and consistency is nice, but it's not necessary to enjoy either fandom or fanfic, or even writing. If you love to write, that's the best thing; you will bring yourself joy. It's one reason I never even considered making a career as a writer, because I didn't want my joy to become my job. That's not to shit on professional writers by ANY means, I have several as friends and of course I admire many well-known authors. But for me, it was important to preserve the parts I loved best, and I didn't think I could do that and still try to get a paycheck from it.

So the trick of quality, consistent writing is to love it enough to do it until you develop your skills and grow as an artist. But the real trick of any artistic expression is to love it for itself, to put heart into your work, and to do everything you can to protect what gives you pleasure. Quality and consistency are nice but if you love what you do they really, eventually, cease to matter. :)

[bellamoooon]

Riff never really thought he would last this long with you, but here you were, he had been with you since the year before Tony had gone upstate, which summed up to two years— which for riff was a lifetime considering his “relationships” never lasted more than a day.

“Come on girly girl, I promise they’ll behave this time…” there he was, puppy eyes and a pout standing in the door of your apartment, trying to convince you to let the jets have dinner at your place.

“Riff, you said that the last time, diesel threw a plate at action—“ you spoke reminding him about the catastrophic dinner that had happened weeks ago.

Because yes, you loved riff, and the rest of the boys, to be fair you had been like a mother to most of them, which was comic, seeing as they were all of your age, or a year younger, but despite that, the care you had given to your boys— as you call them — was more nurturing and motherly than what their actual mother ever provided.

But— often when you made dinner for all of them, it turned into a goddamn mess.

Chewing with open mouths, spilling juice, broken plates, sauce accidentally spilled on your pretty pink table cloth, and stolen spoons— don’t ask, you do not know what they take your spoons for.

“I just don’t want to have to clean up after, you boys are like a stampede of elephants, you tear my apartment to shreds in minutes” riff laughed, of course he did, he pulled you closer wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Come on angel, I’ll make the boys clean up, you just cook up one of those delicious warm meals of yours and we do the rest.”

It was tempting, getting to see the boys— and them endlessly complementing your food, and you weren’t an egomaniac, but man it was nice to hear— and spending time with riff, which was often a complicated task with all the trouble they find themselves in.

“Fine, but this apartment better shine after” he hummed as he left a kiss on your head, good thing he had convinced you, the jets were all getting set up for the dinner riff had promised them, he knew you’d give in eventually.

***

As you turn the stove off, right on cue there’s a knock at the door, you sigh, it’s just dinner, they’ll help clean up, no one’s gonna kill anyone, you try telling yourself, but who were you kidding, whenever more than three jets were in a small space— or big to be fair— an earthquake was bound to happen.

“Heya doll, got the boys, need any help setting up?” Riff said with his usual charming smirk as you opened the door, you made way as him and maybe five or six jets walked in behind all freshened up and smiling as they greeted you.

“Yeah, could ya set the plates and silverware, I’ll be there to serve in a sec” he nodded as he started to hand out plates to the boys as the placed them carefully on the table.

As you close the door a foot is shoved in the way letting out a yelp of pain, “ow!”

immediately you swing the door open to find baby John with his brows knit together in pain.

“Jesus, baby John! Why the hell would you do that?” He shakes his head as you place a hand on his back as you both walk in.

“The guys started to run— and…and I kinda lost ‘em so im just slightly late, sorry ma” you giggled as he spoke, always so well spoken and polite. He was a good kid from a broken home, and you were the kind of mother he always wanted his to be, so to say the least, you were fond of him.

“Alright, go sit down, I bet the boys already set the table for dinner” and they had done that exactly, and were even seated already, looking all pretty and innocent as if they weren’t in fights everyday.

As you had predicted, they all gushed over the food and how “no five star could do it like you did”— says riff, it’s just a simple meal, but he was used to eating whatever he could find cheap enough for himself, or starve, which was almost never, since you’d always have a little something for him.

“Okay, now clean up, I want no complaining or whining, Diesel— you’re on dishes tonight” obviously, he let out a soft “aw man” as he started picking the plates and taking them to the sink, “and the rest of you wiping up the table and the kitchen counter” they all groaned, but complied.

Riff found it incredibly amusing and mesmerizing how, ever since you two were together, they all obeyed to most of your orders and looked after you whenever you were out late.

“Y’know pretty, you’d make a great mom someday” he said as he wrapped his arms around your waist, making you smile as his warmth stuck onto you.

“Already am, dickwad, you made me responsible for all your jets, but I don’t see ya paying child support” you say as you turn your head to look up at him, lets out a loud chuckle as he presses a kiss on your shoulder.

“I’ll pay you once these monkeys are out here girly girl, they don’t need to know how good I fuck you” he whispered in your ear, your face lit up with a bright blush as you stuck your elbow in his ribs.

“Riff! You gotta stop doing that, I mean it.”

“Unless you’d want ‘em to hear your pathetic whining, pretty, remind ‘em you’re mine and no one else’s” he left a quick kiss on your cheek as he pulled away, going towards the boys to walk them out of the apartment, turning to wink at you.

You just know it’ll be best if you sleep in and not leave the house tomorrow.

[khloethecatsworld]

I wish people would stop spreading the misconception that suicidal people ‘don’t vocalize it. They just do it.’ Back 4 years ago, I almost died by suicide, waking up after being put on life support for days. People often DO try and reach out for help or there’s obvious signs that they are unwell. In my case, I had went to the hospital 4 days before and they tossed a new antidepressant and sent me home on a waitlist for supports. A LOT of people are vocalizing they need help but can’t get sufficient support.

Please stop spreading that rhetoric, this is one of the reasons why people don’t ask for help in certain cases, because they feel as though they won’t be believed. Just stop.