#and I'm just feeling all the ~emotions~ of it all

[dodgeballstuckonthegymceiling]

Huge thanks to hattiemagix for commissioning this!

Doey & motherly fem reader

★ When Doey first met the reader, he was immediately wary of her. Her kind nature was unfamiliar and he couldn't tell if it was an act or not, it made him suspicious. Even though he liked it when you were around he tried to keep his distance. Can you really blame him? He’s met a lot of people who’ve pretended to be nice, only for them to end up hurting him. 

★ Doey tested the reader's boundaries to see if her kindness was genuine. Slowly challenging her patience. "Let's see how long she can keep this up," he thought, observing her reactions closely. Shurely she would slip and show her true colors. 

★ Even though it was a tad annoying, you were still patient with him. You never raised your voice or showed anger, even when he was acting difficult. Whether it was explaining something for the hundredth time or dealing with his defensive attitude, you remained steadfast in your kindness. 

★ He started to realize that the reader genuinely cared for his well-being. Something he’s not at all used to. Doey never expected to meet someone, an ex-employee no less, who would try so hard to make him feel safe. He misses having someone to look after him, it's been so long, he almost forgot what it's like to be cared for. 

★ After that he quickly got used to you, your presence became a comfort. As the days in the factory slowly passed he grew even closer to you. Soon enough he started seeing you as an adoptive mother. But he decided to keep that to himself, for now at least, he wouldn't want to make you feel uncomfortable.  

★ If anything were to happen to you, he would be devastated. If you need to leave the Safe Haven, Doey becomes visibly anxious. He begins clinging to you, reluctant to let you go. He asks you to make a promise to stay safe and be careful. The thought of losing you fills him with dread."Promise me you'll be careful, okay? I need to know you'll come back safe” 

★ After defeating the Doctor and the Prototype you bring him, and many of the other toys, home with you. Because of course you had to bring Kissy, Poppy and those who called the Safe Haven home out of the factory where they were starving. 

★ Doey feels a mix of emotions—relief, uncertainty, and a bit of excitement—as he steps into the reader's home "This is... home?" he asks, looking at the various objects you have hung up and strewn about. “Of course” you declare, looking at him as he turns his head. Doey’s expression unreadable, “that is, If you want it to be.” you quickly add. 

★ And of course he stays with you! Where else would he go? He's so attached to you he couldn't imagine living anywhere else. By this point, it was clear as day that he needed you around. The way he beams when you compliment him or how he always lingers by you gave it away.

★ After spending the past 10 years in the abandoned shell of a factory, Doey is very eager to make up for lost time. He's really excited to try something new. You take the opportunity to teach him various domestic skills. His new favorite thing is baking with you!

★ He still has nightmares about the factory. When Doey wakes up from a nightmare he's immediately disoriented and filled with fear, the trauma of the factory still lingering in his mind. His breathing is heavy and a sense of panic is overwhelming him. His panicked cries always wake you up.  

★ You’re quick to comfort him, rushing to his side and hugging him close "It was just a bad dream. You're okay, and nothing can hurt you here." your gentle touch helped to ground him, "It's okay, Doey. I'm here. You're safe now." it's working, because now his cries have dissolved into a quieter whimper.

★ To help Doey calm down, the reader reaches for his favorite book, "The Adventures of Word Wizard." She knows how much the story means to him and starts reading aloud, her voice steady and comforting. As she continues, doey feels his eyelids grow heavy. 

★ Just before he falls asleep, Doey murmurs softly, "Goodnight, Mom." The reader smiles softly, her heart melting from Doey's words. For the rest of the night, he sleeps soundly, knowing he's safe and cared for.

[kiwriteswords]

I was listening to Diet Pepsi by Addison Rae (it gives me so much Hotch vibes for some reason??? I love it) and I thought it would be the perfect occasion to make a request for your Thirsty Thursday 👀 I don't have much idea but I guess something in the car, maybe a younger reader so we have a lovely age gap and maybe something that goes with the lyrics "I write my name with lipstick on your chest I leave a mark so you know I'm the best" (don't need to be the name writing of course ahah but I love the idea of lipstick stains on his chest)

You're the absolute best and congrats on your 2k btw!! you deserve thousand more 🫶

Fog up the windows in the parking lot [Aaron Hotchner x Age-Gap!Reader] **

Ki2k Masterlist||MainMasterlist (not updated, sorry!)|| Ao3||Word Count: 3k|| AN: Hii! Thank you so much for this request--I still can't believe I was listening to this song when you sent this, haha. Great minds think alike!! I hope you like this (I can't write smut to save my life, but here i am doing a smut day.)

Tags/Warnings: female reader, porn without plot honestly, smut, mdni, unprotected sex, car sex, I am bad at writing smut sorry, horny hotch, sorta brat tamer hotch, age gap, you're hotch's controversially young gf, not specified if reader is BAU (so up to your imagination).

Summary: The one where Aaron Hotchner realizes he goes weak in the knees when he sees how tight his much younger girlfriend's jeans are.

Hotch couldn't help himself today, and it was all because of those jeans you decided to wear. Each time you bent over to grab something off the lower shelves at the grocery store, his heart skipped a beat, his mind filled with thoughts that had no place in the brightly lit aisles of their local market. You were oblivious to the effect you were having on him, focused on checking items off the grocery list, your hips swaying naturally as you moved down the aisles.

It wasn’t just the bending or the swaying; it was every little thing you did. Each time you reached up to grab something from a higher shelf, the way your back arched slightly, Hotch felt a pull deep inside him, a stirring of feelings he hadn't expected to be so strong.

When you both loaded the groceries into the car and then reached into the backseat to grab your purse, your jeans hugging you perfectly, Hotch found his eyes lingering. He was usually more composed than this, more in control, but today, those jeans had him teetering on the edge.

Driving home, he kept stealing glances your way, each look like adding fuel to a fire he was struggling to contain. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and tinged with a hint of warning and desire mingled together. "You have no idea what those jeans are doing to me," he confessed, trying to keep his focus on the road but failing miserably.

You turned to look at him, a mischievous sparkle in your eye, fully aware now of the turmoil you were causing. His words, so out of character for the usually stoic and controlled man, only brought a playful smile to your lips.

Hotch knew he was treading uncharted waters, not just with his emotions but with how openly he was expressing them. Despite the teasing from the team, who noticed how much younger you were, and their offhand jokes about him being like a lovestruck teenager, it didn't matter. You brought out a side of him he never knew existed. A side that felt alive, vibrant, and yes, even a bit reckless.

You sighed, looking in your purse for something beside Hotch in the passenger seat. He then all about lost it when you unbuckled your seat belt in the passenger seat and twisted to the back. Your ass was now level with his head, practically drawing him in. He had to keep his eyes on the road--but god dammit. 

The car shifted slightly as he adjusted his grip on the steering wheel, his knuckles whitening from the tension. "You're doing this on purpose now," he muttered under his breath, his voice laced with a mix of exasperation and barely contained desire.

Playing coy, you didn't respond immediately. Instead, you found your lipstick and settled back into your seat, taking your time to apply it carefully, glancing at him to gauge his reaction. His eyes flicked, catching yours, and you saw a flash of something intense in his gaze.

Hotch stepped on the gas a bit harder than necessary, the slight surge forward a clear indication of his growing impatience and agitation. You couldn’t help but smile at his reaction, teasing him further. "You know, you're really sexy when you're all hot and bothered," you pointed out, your tone playful yet sincere.

The remark seemed to hit a nerve, and Hotch took a deep breath, trying to refocus his attention on the road. But it was clear you had effectively distracted him, his mind racing with thoughts he usually kept well under wraps. This side of Hotch, the one that struggled between his composed exterior and the mounting desire you elicited, intrigued you. It was a side of him that came out rarely, and you relished the moments when you could draw it out, loving the way he looked at you when he thought you weren't watching.

You leaned back in your seat, a mischievous glint in your eye, and teased him, "I have a good idea."

Hotch's response was immediate and a little strained, his voice tight as he focused on the road. "The only idea I have right now is getting home and taking a cold shower." He was half-joking, but the undertone of his voice betrayed his growing frustration and need.

You laughed lightly, enjoying the effect you had on him, but decided to push the envelope a little further. "You know," you started casually as if the thought had just occurred to you, "I've always wanted to have sex in the car."

Hotch paused at that, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. He glanced at you briefly, his expression a mix of surprise and contemplation. The rational side of him kicked in almost immediately, listing several reasons why that was not a good idea—safety, legality, the potential for discomfort. But before he could voice any of those thoughts, he felt your hand on his thigh.

Your fingers started caressing him, inching dangerously close to his groin. Each touch sent a jolt through him, scattering his thoughts and straining his control. His grip on the steering wheel tightened again, and he drew in a sharp breath, trying to concentrate on the road while battling the surge of desire your bold move had ignited.

He half sighed, half groaned your name, his voice strained as he tried to concentrate on the road. "That's not—"

But he didn't finish his sentence. The sensation of your fingers, the way you leaned closer to him, your breath on his neck as you whispered just how much you wanted this—all of it was overwhelming. Hotch gripped the steering wheel even tighter, the car speeding along as he battled the surge of desire that you sparked with your daring touch.

He took a deep breath, trying to regain some semblance of control, but the more he thought about your suggestion, the more appealing it seemed. Here he was, a man always in control, always calculated, yet at this moment, driven to the edge by the simple act of your hand on his leg.

"We should... we should at least pull over," he finally conceded, his voice a mix of reluctance and desire, realizing that resisting you completely was a battle he might not want to win today. As he scanned for a secluded spot to park, the thrill of the impending escapade with you sent a jolt of anticipation through him. 

Hotch pulled the car over, the tires crunching softly on the gravel as he turned off into a secluded spot shielded by trees. Without a word, he reached over the console, his movements deliberate, and captured your lips in a rough, hungry kiss. You moaned into his mouth, your lipstick leaving a taste of cherries against his lips, igniting a fire within him that he hadn't allowed himself to feel in years.

His hands roamed over your body with a sense of urgency and ownership, finally reaching across the console to trace down your legs to those tight jeans that had been torturing him all day. His touch sent shivers up your spine, and you pulled back breathless, meeting his gaze which had darkened with raw desire.

"You’re gonna need to help me peel these off," you suggested with a playful yet sultry tone, motioning towards the backseat, "Maybe back there would be better?"

The idea sent a thrill through Hotch, the tightness in his own jeans growing at the thought. His brain buzzed with a cascade of 'what ifs' — what if we get caught? What if someone sees? Yet, the logical side of him was quickly overridden by the sheer desire to be closer to you, to explore this daring side of your relationship.

Hotch's decision was made the moment you suggested moving to the backseat, but as he surveyed the space, he realized there was enough room if he pushed the driver's seat all the way back. The SUV, similar to the one he drove for the FBI, was spacious, but even then, the two of you fit just barely.

You began to wiggle out of your jeans in the passenger seat, and Hotch reached for his belt with urgency. Typically, your intimate moments were full of foreplay, and you both took your time, savoring each other. But today was different—there was a sense of rush, an urgency in the air as he pulled himself from his jeans, his eyes never leaving you.

"Come here," he said in a low, commanding tone that sent a shiver down your spine. It was a direct, uncharacteristically blunt invitation, but it carried all the intensity of your mutual desire. He adjusted himself, making space for you, anticipation etching every line of his face as he awaited you to straddle his lap.

Your eyes went from his to his hand as he began stroking himself with a semi-achingly slow pace that made your eyes widen. He watched you slide your panties down your legs, kicking them to the floor of the car with your jeans and shoes.

The rush, the spontaneity—it all contributed to a thrilling urgency neither of you could deny. As you moved towards him, leaving the constraints of your jeans behind, the tight confines of the SUV seemed to close in, enveloping you both in a private world where only your intertwined desires mattered.

You slid from the passenger seat, the fabric of the car seats whispering beneath you as you maneuvered yourself toward Hotch. The confined space of the SUV made every movement more deliberate, more charged with an electrifying tension. Your heart raced as you reached him; his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that mirrored the pounding of your pulse.

Carefully, you straddled him, positioning yourself over his lap. Hotch's hands immediately found your hips, his grip firm and sure, anchoring you securely against him. The close quarters of the SUV enveloped you both, creating a cocoon of intimacy that amplified each breath, each subtle shift in movement.

His hand moved from your hip to between your legs, spreading you and finding the wetness that waited for him there. He groaned, feeling it; he threw his head back, opening his neck for you to nip at and kiss. You began unbuttoning his button-up, glad he went without the tie today and just the button-up and jeans--a casual look you loved. 

You reached between the two of you and positioned him before swiftly sinking down with a shared groan filling the walls between the two of you. You felt the pads of his fingertips grip your hips again as you began to rock into him, subconsciously clenching around him. 

His hands caressed the curve of your ass, guiding your hips to rock against him. The way he pressed you so firmly down against his hips had the right amount of pressure on your clit, causing you to roll your eyes in pleasure. 

His hands spread up your sides on your still-clothed top. Through your shirt, he grabbed at your breasts roughly before returning to your ass. 

Hotch got a little rougher, meeting your hips rand ocking against his with a thrust beneath you. You could feel him deep within you. Caught in your throat was a moan, but the pleasure was too immense--too good. 

“You have no idea what you were doing to me today in those jeans,” Hotch panted, his lips finding the crook between your shoulder and your neck as he began to meet you thrust for thrust--so deep, so good--so much. 

“Oh,” You squeaked, “I have an idea.” You laughed, breathlessly. 

“Fucking,” Thrust, “Brat.” The sound of your hips smacking. Your thighs sweaty now against him, and your wetness now audible. 

“You love it,” You breathed, your lips going down to his chest now, kissing him and leaving marks of your lips from your lipstick, stained across his chest. 

“Yes,” He thrusted again, sharper now, but the rhythm beginning to falter. “You better hurry up and come,” he said breathlessly. You clenched around him with a glint in your eyes, “I’m serious.” 

Reaching between the two of you, you began working your clit with a circular rhythm that was old faithful in any situation. Hotch’s eyes squeezed shut then open, continuing to meet you. There was a found tempo from the way your fingers circled your clit and the way his hips met yours.

You felt the coil begin to tighten as your orgasm approached. Your thighs began to shake and you threw your head back. Hotch’s fingers bruising your hips continued with each deep thrust. Over and over and over. Just right. 

You came with a gasp, which was then covered by Hotch’s lips kissing you. His hips beginning to lose control as his own orgasm left him. You felt him empty within you, only adding to the sensitivity you felt deep within you. His hips stuttered against you, resting, but your thighs still shaking against him. As if to hold you into place, his hand rested at the small of your back, settleing you. 

A groan left his lips into your mouth, and the two of you slowed with lethargy. As the intensity of the moment ebbed, Hotch's hands gently caressed your skin, soothing and tender in their touch. The two of you were left sweaty and breathless, the aftermath of your passion palpable in the close, humid air of the SUV. His hands moved slowly, tracing patterns across your back and shoulders, each stroke helping to ground you both as you came down from your highs.

The small space of the car, which just moments ago had felt electrifying and exhilarating, now seemed overly warm and confining. As you both caught your breath, the reality of the situation gently settled in—a mixture of amusement and affection hanging between you.

"We definitely need a shower," Hotch murmured, a slight grin playing on his lips as he acknowledged the state both of you were in. The thought of continuing this intimacy in the shower brought a soft smile to your face.

"And maybe a detail for the car," you added, laughing softly, the sound mixing with the faint hum of the idling engine. The humor of the situation wasn't lost on you, and Hotch's responding chuckle told you he felt the same.

"So, I take it you liked the jeans?" you asked, a playful note in your voice.

Hotch glanced at you, a smirk playing on his lips. His eyes held a glint of mischief mixed with undeniable affection. "I loved them," he admitted, his voice low and enticing. "But for the sake of productivity, maybe never wear them again around me if we actually want to get anything done."

His witty response made you laugh, the sound light and carefree. It was moments like these that deepened your connection, mixing playful banter with the intense chemistry you shared. 

Your fingers trace the outline of your lips marked all along his neck and chest from the now-smeared lipstick you had applied moments before. A mischievous smile spread across your face as you pointed them out. "You know, this might be my favorite look on you now," you said, the playful tone in your voice tinged with a hint of satisfaction.

Hotch raised his eyebrows, a slight blush coloring his cheeks as he reached up to feel the marks, his fingers brushing over the spots you indicated. The corners of his mouth turned up in a smile, appreciative of your boldness and the memory of the moments that led to such disarray.

"Is that so?" he replied, his voice laced with humor and a warmth that reached his eyes. "I suppose it's a good thing we're heading home then. I might need to wear it more often if it gets that kind of approval."

As you watched the fading lipstick marks on his skin, you leaned closer, a teasing gleam in your eyes. "I like marking what's mine," you murmured, tracing a finger lightly over one of the marks, emphasizing your words.

Hotch looked at you, his expression softening into one of deep affection, the playful retort ready on his lips turning into something far more tender. "Sweetheart, you don't need marks to know I am," he replied, his voice gentle yet firm, filled with a sincerity that warmed you through.

You kissed him tenderly there before he patted your bare hip. You smiled against his lips, knowing the two of you had to leave this little intimate cocoon now. “I know, I know,” you sighed against his lips before whimpering, slowly moving off of him, trying not to make an entire mess of his already dirtied car. Hotch groaned, feeling you leave his lap. 

Despite the age gap between you, something about being with you made Hotch feel as though he was losing his innocence all over again; each moment tinged with a freshness and excitement that he hadn’t realized he’d been missing. It was a rediscovery, a rejuvenation of spirit in the best way possible, with every laugh, touch, and shared secret making him feel both wonderfully vulnerable and profoundly alive.

He sure hoped you wore those jeans again. 

[sunsetmaidenwrites]

An Essay on SamBucky

Just got back from seeing Captain America: Brave New World and am full of thoughts. The following contains Sambucky-centric thoughts, head canons, and spoilers based on the movie. (I have a separate post that includes my overall thoughts on the movie but this one is solely Sambucky.)

Sambucky nation--we rise! No divorce era for us! (Though it did provide for some awesome, angsty fics). I hope the trend continues with Thunderbolts*. Bucky is obviously looking rougher there than he did in this movie, so we're not out of the woods yet, but I'm feeling pretty good about our chances.

There's so much to say here. Multiple Bucky mentions (Sam alluding to Bucky when he talks about having a friend who was controlled by trigger words.), a picture of SamBucky prominently displayed at Sam's headquarters, Bucky showing up as emotional support when Sam needs him most, the hug, the "Buck" and the "I love you, Buddy." All of these have already been mentioned a lot, though, so for this post (who am I kidding this is an essay!), I would like to highlight a few points pertaining to the movie. I haven't really seen discussed in the Sambucky tag yet.

First, Sam says the following to Bucky at the hospital:

"Joaquin’s in here. Isaiah’s in prison. And Sterns…I had him. I had Sterns right in my hands but he got away." Bucky is given no additional backstory here, which means he already knows who Sterns is and what Sam is dealing with. This indicates Sam and Bucky are in regular contact with Sam keeping Bucky filled in on what's happening. This isn't just a case of Bucky seeing news footage and immediately going to Sam. Bucky is an active part of Sam's life and support system.

Then we have Bucky's line:

"Steve gave people something to believe in, but you give them something to aspire to." Bucky's admiration and devotion to Sam here is quite evident. I fully believe Bucky Barnes is all in for Sam Wilson and has been probably for longer than even he realizes.

Then toward the end of the scene where we get our iconic "Thanks Buck" and "I love you, Buddy" moment:

We have a wealth of unspoken communication here. Sam and Bucky seem to have a whole conversation with both their eyes and body language before they speak these words. Sam looks at Bucky. Looks down at (presumably) Bucky's outstretched hand. Then his eyes cut back up to Bucky. Then they cut back down as he shakes Bucky's hand, then he looks back up at Bucky. For Bucky's part, his eyes never leave Sam's face during the entirety of this. It's only right before he says "I love you, Buddy" that his gaze cuts down from Sam's face. After saying the words, Bucky proceeds to back away and Sam watches him go. The way this scene plays out, and the choices Mackie and Stan make leave a lot of room for subtext and interpretation, imo.

Right after this scene, we also get the female agent coming in with questions/comments about Bucky to Sam, alluding to a possible interest which Sam shuts down with "He's 110 years old." Look, it might make sense for Sam to try to nip a Bucky/Sarah potential connection in the bud like he did in TFATWS and it not mean anything (that's another essay for another day. I wasn't on Tumblr back then to share my thoughts on that.); after all, that's his sister and Bucky was riding on his last nerve through all the previous episodes at that point. It does not, however, make sense for Sam to insert himself into the narrative at this point and try to dissuade a random CIA agent from showing interest in Bucky if Bucky is just his friend and/or Sam's interest in him is purely platonic. It just doesn't. I cannot come up with a logical explanation for this besides the obvious 'that man is mine, step off' conclusion.

And for my last point:

During Sam's final showdown with the red hulk, with the outcome uncertain, and defeat (and therefore death) potentially eminent, Sam proceeds to bitch about Bucky under his breath. "Bucky is full of so much shit..." I know this is supposed to be funny and snarky, but it's also quite telling. We know that the signature of SamBucky's relationship--whether it's platonic or romantic--is the bickering. Not only is Sam spending his potential last moments ranting about Bucky (again, the staple of their relationship), he's also spending them thinking about Bucky. He's going out there facing odds that seem insurmountable and it's Bucky that's on his mind.

So, in conclusion, they're in love.

[save-the-villainous-cat]

The villain couldn’t help but stare at the hero.

They’d gotten thinner, the villain realized.

“Listen...” The villain brushed the hero’s chin with their fingers until they took it altogether. Slowly, they leaned forward, but the weary eyes didn't meet them. “Just let me help. Just let me say the words, let me do the evil monologue and join me.”

The hero brushed the villain’s wrist with their fingers.

“You’re fully aware that I cannot do that.”

“Come on.” The hero shot them a sharp look and for a second, the villain considered retreating. With a groan, the hero leaned against the wall. Ultimately, they sat down, clearly too tired to stand up. “This is eating you. This stupid job, this stupid costume. When was the last week all your bones were intact?”

“It’s not that simple,” the hero argued. They frowned and even that looked like it was draining. The villain tried to, but they didn't understand. They feared they would never be able to fully grasp what the hero was aiming for, nor why they were so adamant.

“It is that simple. Your obsession with justice is ludicrous," the villain said. "You know the law doesn't function as a guide for moral decisions."

"I can't just watch and let people die, can I?" the hero answered. Their fingertips against the villain's wrist were cold and very slowly, it dawned on the villain that they were shaking.

At first, the villain didn't say anything. They simply kneeled to be on the same eye level as their counterpart. Then, they took the hero's face into their hands.

"You also can't blame yourself every time someone dies." The villain leaned in, nearly instinctively, and lowered their voice. "Please, just come back to me."

Their lips brushed the hero's cheek and they closed their eyes, taking their time to concentrate on the proximity and calm down their racing heart. They didn't want to think about the past, they didn't want to think about the endless fights and the many tears. It was all gone now - right now, in this moment, resentment didn't linger.

All that remained was affection.

"Please," the villain begged again. By now, they were hugging their hero, holding them closer than ever before, taking in deep breaths and burying their face in the hero's shoulder. They could feel the hero's hand move; snaking up their back and eventually finding a place in the villain's hair.

It was unbelievably painful to hold the hero like this. It was unbelievably cruel as well. All the things they had thrown at each other before, all the insults and the schemes, all those plans and conflicts...still being able to hold so much love for a person felt specifically dreadful to the villain.

But then again, the hero wasn't simply a person. Once, they had been everything.

"Please come back to me," the villain begged again. "This is killing you. This job, it..."

They felt the tears.

God, they felt the tears. After months of pushing their feelings away and replacing them with rage. After months of suppressing their emotions, they could feel how heavy their heart truly was.

They pulled away, blinking tears out of their eyes, and stared at the hero who had already let their tears roll down their face. The villain brushed them away.

"It is so exhausting," the hero whispered. Their voice was shaking.

"I know."

"And it hurts so much."

"I know, darling."

"But I can't quit, I can't- I mean, there is so much pressure and so many people are counting on me and if I fall, I mean...I'm not a person anymore, I'm a symbol of hope and inspiration and if I...I can't, I just can't-" The hero took in a trembling breath and the villain hugged them again, softer this time.

"Take a break, please. I can't stand this anymore." The villain pressed a kiss to the hero's cheek and slowly, let their fingers intertwine. "I can kidnap you if that makes it easier."

"Yes," the hero said. "For a few days, okay? Just a few days."

Given the hero's physical state, a few days turned into two weeks.

[littlepeach-world]

Valentine's Paradise

Pairing: Frontman/Hwang In-Ho x Fem!Reader

Summary: In-ho surprises you for valentines day.

Warnings: Fluff, Gift Giving, Sweet!inho, Cute!Inho.

Word count: 1.04k

Notes: Feeding my delusions with this one 😭. Enjoy! 🧡

You and In-ho arrive at a beautiful, secluded island under a brilliant sky, the perfect place for a Valentine's Day getaway. The air is warm, carrying the scent of the ocean and blooming flowers. In-ho, always the planner, has orchestrated a surprise vacation that seems to have sprung from a dream.

As you walk hand in hand along the sandy path leading from the pier, your heart skips a beat at the sight of a stunning beach house emerging in front of you. The modern architecture melds seamlessly with the natural surroundings. You can't help but gasp, eyes wide with wonder.

Inho's deep, melodic chuckle fills the air as he finds your reaction utterly adorable.

"Do you like it?" he asks, his eyes twinkling with excitement.

"It's beautiful. I can't believe you did all this," you reply, your voice filled with awe.

He smiles and lifts your hand to his lips, brushing it with a tender kiss before guiding you toward the entrance.

"Come on, there's more to see," he says, leading you inside.

Walking into the house, you are instantly enveloped by an aura of luxury and romance. Soft lighting, plush furnishings, and a color palette that feels both sophisticated and soothing greet you. However, what takes your breath away are the myriad gifts that adorn the living space, every corner of the room filled with beautifully wrapped presents. Each one thoughtful and personal, symbolizing Inho's love for you.

Overwhelmed, you gasp again and throw your arms around In-ho, your lips capturing him in a heartfelt kiss.

"Thank you, baby," you whisper, your voice brimming with emotion.

He holds you close, his smile warm and reassuring. "Anything for you, my love. Happy Valentine's Day."

Inho's eyes sparkle as he watches you unwrap the gifts, each one met with squeals of delight and wide-eyed wonder. The living room is filled with the sounds of your laughter and exclamations as you discover each thoughtful present he has chosen for you.

"Oh my gosh, this is stunning!" you exclaim, holding up a delicate piece adorned with a shimmering pendant.

"I'm glad you like it," In-ho replies, his voice warm with satisfaction. "It reminded me of you—elegant and radiant."

After opening the last box from In-ho, you can't help but let your gaze hover over a beautifully wrapped package that you've been saving just for this moment. Your heartbeat quickens with anticipation.

"I have something for you too," you say, a hint of excitement in your voice.

"You didn't have to get me anything" he replies, though his curiosity is clearly piqued.

"I know, but I really wanted to," you respond, handing him the box eagerly. "Go ahead, open it."

In-ho carefully unwraps the gift, removing the layers of paper to reveal an intricately crafted wooden box. His eyes widen in surprise as he lifts the lid and finds a vintage comic book lying inside, its cover adorned with vibrant illustrations.

"No way," he breathes, gently picking up the comic book and tracing his fingers over the familiar characters. "This... this is the comic I always wanted as a kid but could never find. How did you even get this? It's so rare."

You smile, watching the mix of emotions play across his face. "I did a lot of searching and had a little help from a few collectors. I wanted to give you something special, something that would bring back happy memories."

Inho's usually guarded demeanor begins to unravel, his eyes shimmering with genuine emotion as he gazes at the vintage comic book. His voice trembles slightly as he speaks, trying to hold back the full tide of his feelings.

"Jagiya this... this is incredible," he murmurs. "I can't believe you found it. It means more to me than you could ever know."

He pauses for a moment, collecting himself, but you can see the depth of his gratitude and the memories this gift stirs in him. The walls he's built seem to soften, revealing a more vulnerable side that touches your heart.

Unable to hold back any longer, In-ho steps closer, cupping your face gently with his hands. His eyes lock onto yours, filled with warmth and affection. "Thank you," he whispers again, this time more tenderly, as though the words are meant only for you.

In a moment that feels like the world has slowed to a breathtaking halt, he leans in and kisses you softly. It's a kiss laden with gratitude, affection, and a silent promise of love that needs no words.

You melt into the embrace, feeling the reassurance of his warmth and sincerity envelop you. Your arms find their natural place around him, holding him close as you both savor the intimacy of the moment.

After savoring the moment, your curiosity urges you to explore your surroundings further. Taking Inho's arm, you embark on a self-guided tour of the house. Every room seems more beautiful than the last, with expansive windows showcasing breathtaking views of the ocean and the verdant landscape.

"Look at those waves," you marvel, pointing to the surging ocean just beyond the glass. "It's like our own private paradise."

"That's exactly what I hoped you'd think," Inho says. He watches you with a gentle smile, his heart swelling with happiness at your delight.

After you've explored every nook and cranny, In-ho suggests you both freshen up to prepare for the evening. "Why don't we get ready for dinner? I have another surprise for you," he says with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

With excitement bubbling within, you take a refreshing shower, letting the water wash away any lingering traces of the day. Feeling invigorated, you dress up in your finest attire. As you slip into your elegant dress, you can't help but smile at the reflection in the mirror, feeling the magic of the evening envelop you.

"Ready, my love?" In-ho calls from the hallway, looking dashing in his tailored suit.

You step out, your eyes meeting his. "Ready," you reply, your voice filled with anticipation. Taking his arm once more, you follow him to whatever enchanting experience he has planned next, knowing this is a Valentine's Day you will treasure forever.

The setting for dinner is nothing short of magical—right next to the ocean, with rose petals scattered around and flickering candles casting a warm glow. The waves gently lap at the shore, providing a soothing soundtrack to your intimate meal.

The chef, specially hired by In-ho, presents your favorite cuisine, each dish more delectable than the last. The dinner is filled with laughter, shared memories, and sweet compliments. Inho's typically stern exterior melts away as he listens to your stories, his eyes reflecting warmth and adoration.

When the meal winds down, In-ho leans forward and asks, "Did you enjoy your day?" His voice is filled with genuine curiosity and a touch of vulnerability.

"More than enjoyed," you respond, your eyes meeting his. "Saying I enjoyed my day is an understatement. I'm more than pleased with everything you've done. I'm so grateful."

Inho's solemn nod is followed by another question, "Do you like the island?"

"It's beautiful," you reply, almost breathless with sincerity.

He pauses, then says, "It's yours."

You blink in confusion, your brows furrowing. "What?"

"The island," he clarifies with a gentle smile. "I bought it for you."

You are utterly stunned, your voice barely a whisper. "What..?"

Inho's gentle smile never falters as he repeats, "The island is yours."

Your voice rises in disbelief as you exclaim, "YOU BOUGHT ME AN ISLAND! WHAT THE FUCK?"

In-ho laughs softly, the humor in his eyes unmistakable. "What? Is it not big enough? We can always go find a bigger one."

You shake your head, a mixture of disbelief and affection in your eyes. "You don't have to spend so much on me. I love you regardless of what..." Your words trail off as Inho pulls you close, guiding you to sit on his lap.

His arms wrap around you securely as he kisses you passionately, pouring all his unspoken devotion into that kiss. When he pulls back, his voice is low and earnest. "Money means nothing compared to you. There’s no amount of money that could ever measure up to what you mean to me."

In that moment, the world feels perfect. Your lips meet his again, and you know that no matter the luxury or grandeur, it’s this simple, profound love that makes everything truly precious.

[xxdedboixx]

~ Selfish (and Jealous) ~

One Piece Captains

How selfish are each of the captains when it comes to your attention? And just how much more selfish they can be when they become jealous.

NSFW for each captain below the red lines.

18+ MDNI

Luffy

Luffy is accidentally very very selfish. It doesn't even really cross his mind that he could possibly be being selfish and if someone brings it up all he thinks to say is "Well I AM a pirate" with a laugh and exaggerated shrug.

He'll just butt into conversations you're having, either running over to show you something cool or just wrapping himself around you in a tight hug to listen in. Maybe he'll even dramatically kiss your cheek just to make you laugh.

When he's intentionally being selfish it's a whole other deal though. He is suddenly one of the most jealous people ever. For example, you might be talking with a captain of another crew or gushing about how strong someone is. As soon as he hears praise for someone else he is right beside you, pouting or otherwise trying to draw your attention. "Hey I'm supposed to be the coolest guy you know" an exaggerated pout is permanently stuck on his face and he's glaring at the other person. If he doesn't manage to draw your attention though he will wrap his arms around you and run off with you (sometimes this is the first step of he's feeling particularly neglected that day).

Jealous of the other captains (Law and Kid mainly)? He will immediately be starting a fight for your affection. You mention one of their attacks is cool? He's immediately showing off the "super secret epic move" he's been "working on" (he probably just made it up completely on the spot). You like their style? He's pouting and grumbling about how his hat is so much cooler.

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When it comes to the bedroom Luffy is yet again accidentally selfish. It's not necessarily a bad things though because the way he is selfish isn't what you may think.

Instead of focusing on his own pleasure he is just so focused on the moment. You have his undivided attention and he is not letting a second go to waste. This also means you need to be focused on him though. Any time he is not touching you is time wasted if you ask him.

He's selfish in terms of not listening to you. Yes how you feel is important but what you say isn't. He is 100% accidentally overstimulating you because he just can't get enough of how you sound.

I also firmly believe that he prefers to focus on you rather than taking care of his own needs. He will only stop touching you when he absolutely can't hold back anymore and even when he is actually fucking you he is still groping you in every way possible.

How about how selfish he would be if someone else was involved? He probably just accidentally ignores them, forgetting they're even there sometimes just because he wants to hear you even more. If he does remember that someone else is there then he's gushing about you and showing off how good he can make you feel. You always have to be the focus of both of their attention, he just won't allow it to be any other way.

Trafalgar Law

Law isn't really selfish but he's not not selfish y'know? He has a good handle on his emotions for the most part so it's rare he actually lets any selfishness or jealousy seep through the calm and smug facade.

He also knows that you wouldn't be dating if you liked anyone else so he doesn't really get jealous.

If he wants your attention then he's probably going to be selfish and immediately ask that you come to his office just to spend time with him, no matter what you're doing. And since he is your captain you have to obey (he likes to pull the captain card a lot). But if he's content just doing his own work then he doesn't really mind letting you do your own thing.

If you're talking to someone else when he wants your attention there's 2 options. Option 1, he calls you into his office, maybe whoever you're talking to even thinks you're in trouble with the way he says your name, but he's actually just tired and needs your attention to refill his battery. Option 2, you're mid conversation and then you're in his room. This is usually much more of a last resort. He might use this method when you are refusing to go to bed or when you're ignoring him for whatever reason.

He knows it's selfish to want you to spend most of your time in his general vicinity but he just can't bring himself to care. You both might like time to yourselves but that doesn't mean you can't have your alone time in the same room.

He doesn't really get jealous when you hang out with other people but he does prefer it if you stay near him, he'll tolerate other people talking to you as long as it remains friendly and if they try to flirt, then you don't flirt back.

When it comes to the other captains (Luffy and Kid) he won't intervene in the dramatic way the others would. He prefers to be more casual, he might just wander over an arm around your waist or shoulder. He isn't one for PDA but sometimes he just has to show off his claim over you. He might even whisper a joke in your ear to irritate the others or make a sly remark about them.

The way he feels when you interact with them could be considered jealousy but he would probably just say that they irritate him and he doesn't want you wasting time on them.

If you mention something cool that the other captains have done, he doesn't do much more than raise an eyebrow at you, maybe it even irritates him but you won't necessarily know until later. If it irritates him enough then... Well check out the NSFW section.

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If you manage to make Law actually jealous then he might just take it out on you in the bedroom. In reference to what I mentioned before. If you talk too highly of the other captains then he is going to tease you endlessly. "Do you think those idiots could make you feel as good as I do?" His fingers might lightly trace over every sensitive place he can think of. "Come on, you talked so highly of them, where's my praise?" He won't let you finish, edging you until you're gasping out apologies. Even then, it's not an apology he's after, it's the satisfaction of knowing that even if they are 'cool', they could never make you feel the way he does.

When you're having sex otherwise he doesn't really seem selfish or jealous. He's actually very giving. Unlike Luffy, he will do whatever you ask him, if you've been good and you ask him nicely enough. He loves it when you beg (I'll probably make another post about this at some point).

I doubt he'd be comfortable with anyone else watching but if it ever did happen then he would be the one completely in control, giving orders. He might be sitting on the other side of the room and instructing them how to treat you, or he might tell them to just watch so he can show off how well he knows you. He's definitely making sure you are the centre of attention.

Eustass Kid

Kid is insanely selfish and very easily made jealous.

He lets his emotions get the better of him so if he's jealous everyone knows (even if he denies it).

He hates when you interact with anyone outside of his crew. Even going as far as making sure you are never sent to go shopping alone. It's not that he doesn't trust you, he just prefers that you have a guard dog to make sure no one even thinks of hurting you or trying to take you away.

If he wants your attention then he is going to yell your name and demand that you accompany him, he'll claim he just needs your help if anyone asks but in reality he just wants you by his side. Like how Killer is never too far away, he just likes to know what's going on and prefers to have you close by.

He wouldn't get jealous of his own crew per se (because he trusts his crew and friends a lot) but if he notices you spend more time with anyone in particular he might become more irritable. If you both have down time and choose to hang out with someone other than him he is probably going to seek you out and hang out with both of you. It won't necessarily improve his mood and he'll probably sit there glaring at you both (after all you chose to spend time with someone other than him) but at least he can spend time with you.

The only person he could never be jealous of is Killer because he trusts him completely and I would even go as far as to say that he shares everything with Killer.

Because he's pretty much always keeping an eye on you, the moment one of the other captains gets too close to you he is by your side, hurling insults and taunting them. "Why are you wasting time talking to these losers?" "Get back to work." Any excuse he can make to keep you away from them. Again, he trusts you but he just gets so jealous. The idea of them wasting even a second of your time irritates him beyond comprehension.

If you insist on talking to the captains or compliment them in any way, he becomes insanely angry. You are not spared from his wrath either. If you compliment them when they aren't around then he's just gonna curse under his breath and probably call you an idiot. If you compliment them to their face then he curses and storms off. "Fine if you like their company so much stay here then!" "Fucking idiot, complimenting this trash." Anyone who witnesses him storm off will immediately jump out of the way and probably avoid him for the rest of the day. Eventually if you confront him about it he'll shout about how he's the only one who deserves your praise. He's selfish so the mere thought of you complimenting someone else fills him with rage, those are his compliments, his attention, you are his.

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When it comes to the bedroom his selfish side really shines through. He's going to make sure you enjoy yourself but he's also a bit of a sadist so if he wants you to beg for it then you are going to beg. I also firmly believe he is the king of degrading praise.

"my pretty little whore" "such a good slut for me huh?"

If you've pissed him off then he is going to leave you there without letting you finish. But other times he is still focused mainly on himself but he will consider how good you're feeling, it boosts his ego to know that even when he is the main focus he can still make you feel just as good.

If you've made him jealous then he's going to show you just how much better he is. He will not stop until you are crying out, whimpering that you didn't mean to make him jealous, that he's the only one you admire and that he's the only one who can make you feel so good.

Kid would also probably be the most likely to involve someone else. Obviously the first person to come to mind is Killer but I don't doubt he would also be ok with sharing with a couple other members of his crew (the other two who immediately come to mind are Wire and Heat). As long as it's both of them dominating you then I think he'd be very very into it. He'd give the others tips and taunt you for getting off to the idea of both of them.

Although he's easily made jealous normally, because he has so much control in the bedroom it takes a lot more to make him jealous.

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If you've made it this far thank you very much and please check out my GoFundMe to raise money for my top surgery. I also take requests but will be more inclined to respond if there is any type of donation attached (even just $1 because everything counts)

[wattpadbxtch]

Do you reckon you can do Pazzi!moms, but like their birth story?

LMFAOOO RECKON. Yes chat I do reckon.😘

pairing: moms!Pazzi

warnings: none

The Best Team

“Aight, Az, deep breaths, ma. You got this,” Paige whispered, gripping Azzi’s hand like her life depended on it.

Azzi ain’t never felt pain like this before. Not after all them grueling-ass WNBA workouts, not even after both times she tore her acl. This? This was different. This was a whole new level of pain, and it had her gripping Paige’s hand so hard, she might’ve been cutting off her circulation.

“Paige, I swear to God,” Azzi gritted out, her voice tight as another contraction hit. “If you ever—EVERRR—talk me into doin’ this shit again…”

Paige let out a breathless chuckle, but her eyes were damn near glassy, like she was feeling everything right along with her. “Okay, okay, we ain’t even gotta talk about that right now. Just focus, baby. You so close.”

Azzi let out a shaky breath, her head falling back for a second before the doctor’s voice cut through the fog.

“Alright, Azzi, it’s time. Give me a big push.”

She looked over at Paige, and the second their eyes locked, it was like she found that last bit of strength she needed. Paige nodded at her, squeezing her hand. “C’mon, mama. You got it.”

So she pushed. And then—

A tiny cry broke through the room.

Azzi damn near collapsed back onto the bed, chest rising and falling like she just ran a full-court press for 40 straight minutes. Paige let out this shaky laugh, her free hand covering her mouth as they both looked toward the doctor.

“Congratulations, moms. You have a beautiful baby girl.”

Tears burned in Azzi’s eyes before she even realized she was crying. Paige was already gone, straight-up sobbing as they watched their daughter get wrapped up in a soft lil’ hospital blanket.

When the nurse placed Amara into Azzi’s arms, everything else faded away. The pain, the exhaustion, the world—it ain’t even matter no more. All that mattered was this tiny, perfect little girl looking up at her. Paige wrapped her arms around them both, kissing Azzi’s forehead, then Amara’s.

“She’s so perfect, baby,” Paige whispered, voice thick with emotion.

Azzi just stared, her finger tracing Amara’s tiny nose, her heart about to burst out her damn chest. “We really made her,” she mumbled, lowkey in disbelief.

Paige sniffled, laughing a little. “Hell yeah, we did.”

Azzi turned her head, meeting her wife’s eyes, and what she saw there almost had her crying all over again. Love. The kind that ain’t even gotta be spoken—it was just there, filling up every inch of the room.

“We locked in now, huh?” Azzi whispered, smirking through the tears.

Paige laughed, shaking her head. “Ma, we BEEN locked in. Been had you since 2017.”

Azzi scoffed playfully.

They both looked down as Amara let out the tiniest yawn, her lil’ hand curling against Azzi’s chest. Paige leaned in, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to Azzi’s lips, like a promise. Like forever.

And in that moment, Azzi knew—this was the best team she’d ever been a part of.

Guys btw i'm not a complete horndog. i love sweet things too and will most def write some😭 Also be hyper specific abt what u want bc i will do my best to comply frr

[hoseoksluna]

— VALENTINE'S DAY WIP ︵ᡣ𐭩 scheme | jjk

pairing: yandere!jungkook x strategy!oc

genre: smut

rating: 18+

about: jungkook thinks you're such a good girl, and for that reason he can't help but to fuck you with his fingers.

warnings: fingering, squirting, praise kink.

word count: 0.671

note: HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY TO MY BABIES. i couldn't NOT spoil you on this special day! this is a smut excerpt of the chapter that is coming out on sunday, and i'm so excited to show this to you and essentially give you this little gift on this day. may love surrounding all your life, not just on this day, and may you know that i love you with all my heart. MWAH. ENJOY READING.

︵ᡣ𐭩

taglist | join here: @jjk7k, @tkslovechild, @euphoricmyth, @cinmmongirl, @ririkookiemonster, 

@perfectiondazesworld, @https-mei, @bangtansonyeondanue, @jungkoock, @cinmmongirl, 

@hoseokkie-caeks, @kam9404, @fr0ggieth1nk, @parkinglot-nights, @sadgirlroo

And like you tilted your pelvis, you tilt your chin and seize his bottom lip, kissing him with such tenderness that he moans and nearly gives you the entirety of his finger. It takes all of his willpower not to do so, concentrating instead on the sealing of the promise as he allows you to kiss him on your own terms. Soft pecks handled by the turning of heads with interludes in between, tasting each other while the time and the cosmos hold their breaths. How beautiful this is and how delicate, the act of not ripping each other’s clothes off but taking your shared time, standing in the way of the laws of this life. 

“Okay,” you whisper against his lips, and Jungkook grasps that you’ve been gathering courage all this time for a reason he longs to know. “Fuck me, please.” 

He hums in pleasure, pressing a rewarding kiss against your lips that lasts for only a second—interrupted by the force of his pleased grin. The fulfillment he feels grows, merging into a high-leveled gratification that buzzes throughout his whole body. He tries to kiss you again but fails, awkwardness seeping through that makes you daintily giggle. And once he hears his own, an oasis of serenity and sentimentality, perfumed by the sweetest tea of pomegranate leaves, transpires in his chest. 

“Good girl,” he praises, adding another finger, his vocal cords strained by his emotions. “Where do you want me? Tell me where.” 

Your breath hardens, wafting across his features, but you’re not shy, you’re not timid to tell him where you need him: “In my pussy, please.” 

His cheeks ache from his smile, but he can’t stop. He’s fucked, he loves you, and it completely massacres him. “That’s it. You learn so well.” 

Jungkook pulls out his fingers to his first knuckles, dropping his gaze to them just to see how much you coated them. Your essence glistens in the dimmed light and drips down his palm. Wanting you to see as well, he pulls them out entirely and shows you. The droplets plummet to your chest and you bite your lip, blushing, your eyes running all across his hand. Over and over again. 

“You’re so prettily wet,” he rasps, closing his lips over your cheek, and he doesn’t need you to respond to his comment before he plunges them back in and begins to fuck you with such a speed that you scream out, grabbing his forearm and sinking your nails into it. 

That doesn’t stop him either. The need to make you come for being such a good girl after that winter of emotional pain ferally takes control of him and he douses himself in its tide. 

He pistons his fingers into you, curling them at the front wall. Thumbing your clit, you roll your eyes back, your chest heaving and gasping for air. Your little nipples perk up for him against the fabric of your night dress, and the sight is so dazzling that he doesn’t blink as he watches you. He can’t wait to have you all bare for him—to see you in your full glory, your flesh bouncing and under his command. His cock leaks at that thought and his animalistic instincts take a hold of him, fucking you faster with his fingers until your whole body shakes—just like he wanted, and until your whole body comes for him. 

The fountain of your pleasure soaks you first before it soaks him, and Jungkook thinks it’s exactly what you deserved. You yelp, but the sound of horror soon turns into a sound of elation as you begin to sputter into a fit of giggles. One he consumes by kissing you nastily, all tongues and spit, while he massages your clit, taking you to the finish line until you can’t anymore. 

“Oh, Jungkook,” you moan into his mouth, barely able to kiss him back as the daze and dizziness of your orgasm seizes you, and Jungkook hums in response, knowing—knowing all about how you feel. 

© 2025 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

WIP masterlist | READ full chapter

[legalandnotease]

I don't think it was purely emotional supression: that was part of it but Bucky hated himself.

People who hate themselves don't tell others they love them not because they don't care or feel love, but because they don't feel worthy of being loved back.

That scene in CW where Bucky says "I don't think I'm worth all this to you" illustrates this perfectly. (Also in addition to torture and mind control Bucky was conditioned to now show feelings, because he knew it would result in punishment).

TFatWS was horrible with writing, and with dialog which is why we had to rely on character's actions for the story arc and development. Which is why Sam showing Bucky he trusted him and didn't consider him dangerous worked where the horrible victim-blamey "make amends" speech didn't.

It was more a case that a guy he'd respected and liked for a long time actually trusting him enough to want him around made the difference- and that by turn bought out Bucky's loyal and protective side towards Sam.

The rest though is something I agree with. It was great to see them just showing appreciation for each other and "I love you" was the biggest move away from traditional masculine superhero stereotypes we've had yet on SamBucky's part. The only downer (for me) was the assumption Bucky took the serum voluntarily like Steve because he wanted greater power or something. Which he didn't.

Captain America: Brave New World SPOILERS

***

It's so important to me that it was Bucky that said "I love you (buddy)" to Sam.

Because this is a man that was born and raised in a completely different time, in a period when it was unnatural, and frowned upon, to wear your heart on your sleeve and share your emotions with the people you cared about. It wasn't even considered that a man would tell another man that they cared about them, let alone tell your friend that you love them.

And, on top of all of that, Bucky has had such a struggle with his feelings and his emotions because of everything he has been through. We've seen him repress his feelings time and time again, and we've seen him close himself off so that he can't be hurt. He didn’t even tell Steve that he loved him, so this is HUGE for his character development. I'm so happy.

But he's healing, and it's so beautiful to see. He's healing because Sam helped him to. Bucky says that Sam gives people something to aspire to be, and that's what Bucky has been doing. He aspired to be like Sam. And Bucky inspires Sam right back. It's the most beautiful partnership.

It was never going to be Sam Wilson, whose love language is banter, that said those three words. It was always going to be Bucky, and I can't believe it's canon that he said those words to Sam in an actual MCU movie.

Marvel blessed us in Brave New World. Sambucky are PARTNERS, and they are THRIVING.

[astr-venus]

｡⁠☆Pose For Me Baby｡⁠.ﾟ⁠+⁠ 

☆Tim Drake-Wayne x reader

☆Cw: yan vibes, consensual and nonconsensual picture taking, no pronouns used, implied stalking, implied black reader, fem reader

"Tim?"

You groan quietly, reaching for the space on the bed your boyfriend normally takes up. It's cold, and missing his lithe body. It makes you frown.

"I'm right here, go back to bed."

"No."

You figure he must be up doing some more late night working, so you don't even bother to open your eyes. You're much too tired to wait until your eyes adjust, or take in his large, glamorous bedroom. Instead you just pull over his pillow, burying your face in the lingering smell of his shampoo.

There's a click, and a gentle flash.

Finally, you peek open your eyes, if only to grumble at Tim for having his laptop brightness up so high.

You don't notice the way your nose scrunches in discontent, the way your fingers involuntarily curl in the sheets, the way strands of your hair have slipped out of your bonnet and in front of your face, but Tim does.

Another click, another flash.

You whine and shy away, slamming your eyes closed at the intruding light.

"Tim."

"Sorry babe."

Once more, your eyelashes flutter as you push yourself into wakefulness, the dark room beginning to clear up in your vision.

The same ornate wallpaper and old money furniture stare at you just as hard as you stare at it. Your brain is still sluggishly taking in your surroundings. All the things you see every time you spend the night in Tim's room look brand new for a few moments, like you're unable to recognize them, until cognizance finally reaches you again.

There stands your boyfriend, huddled over his tripod, pressing buttons on his camera. He's clad in fluffy pajama pants and warm socks, forgoing a shirt. His black hair is messy from bed head, cow licks flying here and there, defying gravity and framing his face like horns atop his head.

"What're you doing?"

"Nothing." Tim waves you off, continuing to look through his camera roll. "I'm taking some pictures is all. Just go back to sleep."

You only sigh, putting your face back into his pillow, and pulling the giant duvet up to your neck. Without Tim in bed holding you, the room's chill is unkindly brushing your shoulders. You shiver, and curl your legs into your stomach.

Click. Flash.

You groan again, not even bothering to open your eyes.

You don't see the way Tim's hand clenches around his camera, nor the way he almost drools over your sleep prone body. He's practically shaking behind the tripod, consumed with love, and lust, and need, and so many other emotions that he's never bothered to put a name to.

You lay none the wiser, bemoaning the cold bed. It makes Tim quite jealous, if he's honest. To him, you are an angel. Nothing short of heaven itself. He wishes he could contain himself the way you do.

You are satisfied with words and touches. You are not shy of saying how much you love him, or giving him hugs, innocent kisses, or sloppy make outs. But he feels like Icarus being burned by the sun if he even reaches out to hold your hand.

It's so much easier to pull out his camera and snap a few pictures. He doesn't have to touch you, or look directly at you, and at the end of it he gets to put you in his pocket and carry you wherever he goes, can take you out and look at you whenever he pleases. He can freeze whatever moment in time he wants, and come back to visit at his leisure.

Taking pictures of you, half asleep with a thin tank top on, almost makes Tim nostalgic. Under the nostalgia, he feels disgusted with himself.

After all, he's been snapping pictures of you since you first met, back when you had no clue about his vigilante life. Back then, he would take pictures from the rooftop beside your building, and then spend an hour talking himself into actually coming to your window to talk to you.

You of course, have no clue about the first part. He's planning on keeping it that way. Tim is self aware enough to know taking pictures of girls he likes via their bedroom windows is more than creepy as fuck, it's literally part of his job to beat up other creeps who do that. But when it's you? When it's him? He doesn't care about that at all. It's different, when it's you two.

He adjusts his tripod, and takes another picture.

Click... Flash.

"Tim, baby, please come back to bed."

It feels good to take pictures of you with your knowledge. It feels good to not have to hide anymore.

"Just a couple more, I promise."

Tim is unhinged !! Tim has no sense of boundaries !! Tim is a stalker !! The masses screamed. So I answered their call !!

Oh Tim who is a weird freak of a man, they could never make me hate you♡

Happy Valentine's day 🩷🩷 probs not the most romantic thing I couldn't posted but IDC... It's very romantic to me okay ???

｡⁠☆Requests open

[kiwriteswords]

Sweet Comic Valentine [Aaron Hotchner x Best Friend!Reader]

Ki2k Masterlist||MainMasterlist (not updated, sorry!)|| Ao3||Word Count: 600|| AN: a lil v-day fluffy friends-to-lovers ficlet for my ki2k Fluff day! Requests are still open for Ki2k!!

Tags/Warnings: female reader, Valentine's Day, friends-to-lovers, fluff, no use of y/n, bau!reader

Summary: Why spend Valentine's alone when you could spend it with your boss, who is halfway in love with you?

The bullpen at Quantico was eerily quiet, the kind of silence that only a holiday like Valentine's Day could bring.

Desks were empty, computers slept, and the usual hustle of agents seemed like a distant memory. Only the soft hum of the fluorescent lights filled the air as you sat at your desk, drowning in paperwork that didn't know it was a day for lovers.

You had always been close to Hotch, your boss and, somehow, your closest friend within the rigid walls of the FBI.

The two of you had mastered the art of dancing around each other's emotions, a choreography too complex to disturb with confessions or truths that might disrupt the balance you had so carefully maintained.

But the truth was there, simmering beneath every shared glance, every half-smile in the hallway--both of you harbored feelings deeper than the façade of friendship you presented.

He was meticulous, always two steps ahead in every case, yet you could almost read his mind when it came to his next move. And he…well, he seemed to hear your thoughts before they ever made it to your lips. This silent understanding had become your unspoken language, comfortable and familiar.

As the clock ticked closer to the end of a seemingly endless day, you were resigned to spend another Valentine's Day alone, surrounded by cold cases rather than the warmth of a romantic dinner. That was until you heard his steady footsteps approaching your desk, an uncommon sound in the stillness of the evening.

"Hey," Hotch started, his voice breaking through the quiet like a soft but unexpected melody. He stood by your desk, hands in his pockets, looking uncharacteristically hesitant. "I was thinking, instead of both of us spending tonight here, buried under all this," he gestured vaguely to the mountains of paper on your desk, then to his own, "maybe we could go grab dinner?”

As Hotch's invitation to dinner hung in the air, you couldn't help but let out a scoff, eyebrows raised in disbelief. "You do know what day it is, right?" you asked, half-amused, half-serious.

His response came with a hint of amusement, as if he was in on a joke you hadn't heard yet. "Yes, I'm aware it's February 14th," he said, the corners of his lips tugging upward slightly.

"Yeah, Valentine's Day," you pressed on, folding your arms over your chest, "which means any place worth its salt is booked solid. Finding a reservation now would be impossible."

Hotch's smile broadened, clearly pleased with himself. "I know what day it is," he repeated, "which is exactly why I made a reservation weeks ago."

Your confusion was evident as you processed his words. This seemed a little over the top for just two friends grabbing dinner. "What if I had a date tonight?" you asked playfully, challenging him. "You just assumed I’d be free?"

He looked back at you, his amusement clear. "Given that we've spent the last few Valentine's Days in the same way--working late, alone--I figured it was a safe bet. Besides," he added, his tone teasing yet gentle, "I wouldn’t take up your evening without making sure you had a memorable dinner to look forward to."

There was a warmth in his voice that made it hard to stay mock-offended. Hotch had always been thoughtful, but tonight, it seemed there was something more tender, more deliberate in his planning. It was hard to keep up the pretense of casual banter when it felt like there might be layers to his actions, yet unexplored.

"Alright, Hotch," you conceded, shaking your head with a light laugh, both at his foresight and your own unexpected excitement. "Dinner it is. Lead the way." You reached for your jacket, closing your laptop shut. 

As he turned towards the elevator, you followed, a curious flutter in your stomach. Maybe, just maybe, this Valentine’s Day wouldn’t be like the others after all. And perhaps this dinner could turn the page to a new chapter for both of you--one that neither of you had dared to read out loud yet.

[theereina]

Big Mama Pt. 13 | Enough Pt. 2

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Plus Size Fem Black!OC

Wordcount: +1.4K

Warnings: MDNI (18+) mature content, such as cursing, smut (fingering, p in v, lovemaking, worshipping), heavily dialogue-centered

🦋Big Mama (series) => 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12

“E-enough,” I whimpered through gritted teeth.

Reality had slipped away, and I was floating. Where? I don't know. All I knew was that Terry took me there.

“That's not good enough, mama. I wanna hear you say all of it,” Terry hissed into the side of my neck.

He pulled his fingers out of me slowly, leaving me with an achingly empty feeling. I grabbed his hand and held it between my legs. Too scared of him stopping, too scared for this to end. I sobbed at the feeling.

“You gone say what I asked you to?” he asked, kissing my lips.

“Yes. Please don't stop. I need you,” I cried, letting go of his hand.

“I need you, too, baby. Just tell me what I wanna hear,” he urged, pushing his fingers back in.

My pussy clenched around his fingers, sucking them in deeper. I moaned out as Terry slowly stroked against my g-spot.

“I-I'm enough. I'm enough. Ughh… I'm enough. Fuck… I'm enough. Ter-. Cum…,” I whined into his shoulder. The weight of his body on top of me was all the reassurance I needed to know that I wasn't going anywhere.

As much as I craved the feeling of his dick inside me, the intimacy in this moment was unmatched. Having affirmations pulled out of me like chants during a ritual was nothing short of life-changing.

“That's right, mama. You're enough for me. You always were,” he spoke sweetly.

His hands caressed the length of my body, molding the flesh like an artist sculpting his life's greatest work— his magnum opus. The power in his hands was both soft as a feather yet firm, acting on pure conviction and passion to show me how loved I was.

All I could do was allow myself the release— a stream filled with every emotion built over the last few weeks— the anger, resentment, guilt, sadness, and disgust. All of it poured out of me like a fountain. It was clear to me that this was where those feelings had come to die. Spilled in this bed because of Terry's hands. I was again becoming a woman anew, shedding the emotional baggage that life told me I had to carry.

“Hey, mama. You hear me?” Terry asked, bringing me back into reality.

“Mhmm. I… uh��� yes,” I stuttered.

“You ready, baby?” he questioned, looking between us.

I slowly followed his gaze to the small gap where our hips joined. Terry's hand was guiding his dick towards the opening of my pussy.

I looked up to find those green eyes staring into my soul. His other hand rested on the back of my thigh, letting me know that he was ready.

The word yes became trapped in my throat and my voice cracked as soon as I opened my mouth. I settled for a nod and silently prayed it would be a good enough answer.

A soft smile spread across Terry's face, reaching his eyes. Eyes that I couldn't help but notice were once again gleaming and bright. My heart smiled at the sight.

“Please,” I said, letting my gaze drop again.

Using nothing but his body weight, Terry entered me with ease. The room was immediately filled with the sound of our coupled grunts and moans. Both of us were enthralled by the feeling of our bodies connecting again.

“Damn, I missed you. I really… uh… did,” Terry moaned into the air as his head fell back.

“I…,” I stammered, losing myself in the fullness of him inside me.

“You don't have to say a word. Just relax. I got you,” he said, thrusting slowly.

Stroke after stroke pushed me closer to the edge. There was nothing I could do but once again take it.

My hands found a home on Terry's chest, rubbing the smooth skin. It was as if my hands were searching for something— anything. I wrapped both arms around his shoulders as he fell forward. Flattening his body on top of mine, he braced himself using his arms. An action that led to him sinking deeper.

This was a connection I'll never be able to explain, and Terry made sure of it. Every stroke was intentional, and every moan served a purpose.

We were creating our own symphony of love. A combination of sounds and actions fueled by a burning desire that teetered on the edge of an unholy amount of worship.

Thrust after thrust.

Stroke after stroke.

Moan after moan.

Repeat.

No words were said. They, for the first time, had no purpose. There was no reason to speak because our bodies were doing the talking.

My arms grew heavy and slipped from around his shoulders. Falling to the bed like weights, I let them rest above my head.

Unbeknownst to me, my eyes had been closed, and I didn't even know for how long. My senses were heightened, and my entire body was sensitive. But somehow… I was feeling everything and nothing at all.

Terry's eyes locked onto mine as his hands slowly reached above me to meet mine. His hands wrapped around both of my wrists, pressing them down into the bed. I squirmed under him as his hips ground deeper. Trying my hardest to find a sense of control, I wrapped my legs around his waist.

“Terry…,” I whined, letting my eyes close again.

“I know, baby. I know,” he said, sucking on my neck with the perfect amount of pressure. I gasped silently as I was overwhelmed by the sensation.

His breath was hot and heavy, and his breathing had grown labored. His hand slipped from around my wrists as his moans turned to heavy pants. He was close, and so was I. In a perfect world, we would cum together, but I knew he was much closer than I was.

Opening my eyes to see the most beautiful sight above me, Terry's large frame surrounded by a halo of bluish-white moonlight. His rich brown skin glistened with sweat. The smooth texture only added to the ambiance of his complexion. Beads of sweat cascaded down the lines of his muscles falling onto me and the bed. It was crazy to think that all of this was mine.

God, what did I do to deserve this?

Gazing down between us and watching him make love to…

Make love…

We were making love? How could I not see this? How did I miss the signs? The intensity of the intimacy, the sensuality of the intention, the softness of the connection, and the lack of eagerness.

Before I could stop myself, a small sob escaped my lips. Terry's eyes opened and settled on my face. His eyes were fixated on mine. The intensity of his gaze was brimming with admiration.

“Let it out, mama,” he said, leaning down to softly kiss my lips.

His hips pushed forward, pressing me deeper into the mattress. His head fell back again, but his eyes still peered down to watch me. Hands planted on either side of my head, his strokes grew deeper and slower. Bringing my hands to his waist and wrapping my legs around him even tighter, I used all of the energy I had left to pull him in.

“Fuck… ‘Va-…,” Terry stammered, losing himself.

“I know, honey. Now, you just let it out,” I whispered.

Terry's hips drew back one final time and plunged forward with force. His jaw dropped, and his shoulders went slack. Those green eyes fluttered closed. Ropes of his hot cum painted my insides.

As if my body was awaiting his finish, my pussy clenched around his still throbbing dick with a tenacity of passion resembling anger but motivated by adoration, devotion, and love. A surge of my own essence poured from me like a faucet.

“Ahhh, fuck. Damn you, ‘Vana!” he moaned into the air with a slight chuckle.

“Terry!” I yelled, forcing him deeper as my legs locked around his waist.

I couldn't let go if I tried. My body was frozen in bliss. My breathing turned to rhythmic pants as I crashed from my high. Terry's lip began attacking my neck, softening the fall. My legs plummeted to the bed, and my arms crashed to my sides. Exhausted was an understatement.

“Th-thank you,” I huffed out barely above a whisper.

“Don't thank me. I'm just giving you what you deserve,” he said.

A/N: Remember, I'm open to critiques. I am a little 🤏🏽 sensitive about my writing. Please, don't be too harsh.🥺 Feel free to bring my attention to any typos. Divider by ME (theereina). Also, this work is not to be plagiarized or reposted (on any site other than here on Tumblr). I do NOT give consent for any form of republishing or rewriting.

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[marcelloandtyler]

"I don't-- I don't think it's the right moment to get into a serious discussion. We're upset and tired and I-- can't fucking think right now," Marcello said, not wanting to cop out but he couldn't get into it right now when Levi was upset with him and he was not in the best emotional state.

"Please don't rag on me for getting high," Marcello said, sighing, his head feeling swimmy. He closed his eyes for a moment. "I'm not refusing to talk to you! God, Levi, I came home with all these fucking intents to talk to you about everything but that isn't going to happen right now!" He grit his teeth. "What are you talking about? You are allowed to do whatever you want, too."

Marcello was so frustrated that he wanted to stomp his foot and grunt but he held back, realizing how immature that would be. He took a few deep breaths, his skin crawling. "Yes. It is the first time you're seeing me like this and that I'm with you when I'm like this. It's not fucking easy for me to just... start talking or even admitting to anything. I'm not used to this. I'm used to closing the world off and being alone." Plus, his emotional state had been made worse by Max but he couldn't bring that up now. His throat felt tight when Levi told him he loved him. He had an urge to just throw himself at Levi, but he held back.

He stood there quietly, watching Levi as he stopped in his tracks. He could see that he was emotional, even from behind. Levi shifted a bit, raising his hands to his face. Marcello stood there, frozen. He closed his own eyes, clenching his jaw. After a moment he opened his eyes and he took a deep breath.

"I can nap in here if you want to-- to lay down upstairs. Or... Or whatever. I-- don't want to keep you here, either. I'm sorry. I just know you're tired and... I'm tired and..."

"You're capable," Levi said, feeling like he just wanted to climb into his bed and stay there for the next year. He shook his head and then let out a breath, feeling completely wrecked. "I don't even know anymore," he muttered, looking down at his hands, unsure how to articulate anything he was thinking or feeling. "You want to explain? Then fine, explain. Explain why we're in this situation. Please. Why did you go? Why?"

He stared at Marcello, feeling cold inside. He hated seeing him worked up, but he couldn't bring himself to reach for him. He didn't know how to break past feeling like there was a barrier between them. "Right, because you were high," he murmured. "And no, I have no idea because you refuse to talk to me about anything. You're allowed to take off and do whatever you want, but not me."

"No, you didn't think of that," he murmured, shaking his head, trying not to associate that with Marcello not really wanting to reach him. "I know you have been. I just thought we agreed to talk about these things. Then at the first hurdle it's like... none that happened," he said, taking in a deep breath. "I get it's hard. But I love you and I know you want to be part of my life and that includes the shitty parts. I thought you got that was the same in reverse."

He scrubbed at his eyes. A nap sounded good but he wasn't sure he wanted to lay down. He felt restless and exhausted in the same breath and he didn't know what one to entertain. He just wanted to go. He didn't care where. He just wanted to be away from here. Away from the pain he felt. Maybe it was self preservation --- it was how he'd always managed to live through his life at home, after all --- but he didn't know how to push past it.

The sound of Marcello's plead was the only thing that made him stop in his tracks. In that moment, he hated himself. He stood there helplessly, tears slipping down his cheeks. He lifted his hands, covering his face.

[booksooks]

i havent even met sylus in game but some of yall seem to have him confused for your own oc because he would Not act Like That

typing using voice to text so I'm sorry if the formatting is weird, but from what my friend who has met sylus has told me: this man would not act the way some of you guys are insisting. like he would not be jealous to the point of being entirely unable to communicate. he would not try to kiss you as a way of making up, or as a way to stop you from being angry with him. that's just not something i see as feasibly anywhere near sylus as a character.

if you want to write a big daddy dom character who completely bulldozes over your feelings in lieu of 'fucking the jealousy out of you', then by all means go for it. but at that point, you are writing for an original character because that is wildly mischaracterizing someone who (again, according to my friend because i havent even come close to meeting sylus in the storyline) specifically makes room for you to be angry, to feel big emotions in a safe space and to be there for you.

the amount of fanfics i've seen that have sylus act in a way that is completely off base is insane. i'm aware that this is fanfiction, that people can write whatever they want and it's not harmful because at the end of the day: it's FAN FICTION and if you can't separate reality from fiction or whatever, you're not mature enough to be reading mature works or you simply don't have the media literacy skills to do so. but i've had a very long and emotionally draining week, and my temper is hanging on by a thread, and i'm allowed to be angry about a completely bullshit take on one of my favorite characters lmfao.

let me be clear, i'm not saying sylus cannot, will not, and has never been domineering, or protective, or that he doesn't have a fucking daddy kink or whatever. what i AM saying, is that the amount of fanfictions of sylus blowing the reader off or ghosting them or just simply not communicating and then expecting the reader to fall back into his arms after a kiss and a few well placed 'kitten's is astounding. even if he made the bad choice of being distant without explanation, he wouldn't expect the reader to instantly forgive him without an ELABORATE apology and an explanation. and honestly, i'm willing to put that bullshit of 'she forgives him because he's hot and he pulled her in close with his strong arms and hes so big daddy alpha dom' into the category of misogyny. because in what world does someone go from angry and hurt to forgiving and pliant just because he's a man and he kissed you. it is blatantly misogynistic to expect that.

i'm aware there is a lot of nuance within relationships, and that not everyone can be expected to be perfect at all times, HOWEVER this is fanfiction, and the authors i'm talking about have either explicitly stated that the reader and sylus have an established romantic relationship, or that they at the very least get along well and enjoy each other's company. so for sylus to then go ghost on the reader and expect them to instantly fall back into his arms at the end of the day then puts me in the position of 'simpering woman with no spine'. again, misogynistic.

at the end of the day, i'm aware this isn't an important issue and i'm aware that the misogyny in fanfiction doesn't necessarily have to transfer over to real life, especially because i do have critical thinking. but i have been ghosted before by an at-the-time boyfriend, and it sucked, so it's more of a personal issue from me.

i'm aware people can write whatever they want, and i have no obligation to read something i don't like. but that then eliminates what seems to be 50% of the fanfiction of sylus. i'm just saying please... consider writing literally anything else for sylus. for a man who has been made to love you specifically... y'all sure don't make him act like it.

if anyone wants me to elaborate or clarify some things, please send me an ask because the comments are not easy to navigate especially with multiple replies.

last but not least: i'm aware these are my personal feelings, and that i can write to make up for it should i so choose. but i hate having to scroll past 5 fics in a row with quite frankly stupid miscommunication issues from a man who is 28 and should damn well know better. thank you.

[crossfandomskylines]

Anywhere But Here

Summary: A Valentine's Day singles event was the last place you wanted to be until an unexpected conversation with Bradley Bradshaw turned the night into something else entirely. What started as shared sarcasm and an easy connection quickly became something deeper. And by the time the night was over you realized maybe fate had other plans after all.

Warnings: 18+. Suggestive Content (some nudity, heavy making out, implied smut but none directly), Alcohol Consumption, Mild Language.

Word Count: 4,389

Author's Note: Still struggling with a little bit of writer's block because of my headspace but managed to write this over the past few days and I think it turned out okay. This is my first time writing for Bradley so I'd love any feedback you guys have! I'm also still a little rough around the edges when it comes to writing smut so I'm sorry if that part isn't good. Hope you enjoy xx

You should have known better than to let your friends talk you into this. The dim lighting, the too loud music, the room full of strangers who all seemed to have the same agenda. It was everything you hated about Valentine’s Day wrapped into one overcrowded venue. 

Somewhere across the room your friends were probably watching and feeling satisfied that they’d successfully dragged you out, but they weren’t the ones stuck making small talk with men who either wanted a rebound, a hookup, or a therapist.

You sighed as you swirled the cheap cocktail in your glass as the third guy of the night launched into a monologue about his “complicated” relationship with his ex.

“Sounds rough,” you said nodding absently.

“Right? And she just doesn’t get that I need space,” he continued, leaning in like you were supposed to be impressed by his emotional unavailability.

You were about to excuse yourself and find your friends when suddenly, a familiar voice cut through the conversation.

"Is this seat taken?" Bradley Bradshaw’s voice was easy, casual, like you hadn’t just been trapped in a one-sided conversation about someone’s divorce for the last fifteen minutes. You blinked in surprise, looking up to find Bradley standing beside you. You couldn’t help the relief that flooded through you at his arrival, a smile tugging at your lips. 

“Bradley,” you said with a chuckle, knowing full well he’d been watching from the corner of the room. 

You’d always known of Bradley. He was part of the same circle of friends though you’d never really talked outside of the occasional greeting or passing comment at group events. He was always nice enough, just not someone you ever felt a need to connect with more deeply.

He raised an eyebrow at the guy you were talking to, still unaware of his impending rescue. “Mind if I steal her for a minute?” Bradley asked, looking at you with an easy grin.

The guy hesitated for a moment, eyes darting between you and Bradley before he finally nodded, mumbling something about catching up with some people. Bradley’s lips twitched in amusement as he pulled the barstool out and took a seat next to you, making it clear he wasn’t leaving anytime soon.

As the guy shuffled away, Bradley glanced at you and whispered, “I’ve got to hand it to you, you were handling that a lot better than I would have. I’d have run for the hills by now.” His grin was teasing, but there was a warmth in his eyes, an unspoken understanding.

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “It wasn’t that bad, I just didn’t know how to get out of the conversation without being rude.”

Bradley leaned back, getting comfortable. “Yeah, well, you’re lucky I was nearby. My friends usually do a pretty bad job of saving me from stuff like that. But if it helps, I’m pretty good at the rescue mission.”

You raised an eyebrow, glancing at him with a smirk. “I’m sure you are. But I’m guessing Jake and Mickey had something to do with this little rescue operation?”

Bradley chuckled, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Guilty as charged. They’ve been trying to convince me to get out here all night. Apparently, they think I’m a really good wingman.” He grinned, clearly not taking the comment too seriously. “But between you and me, I’m just here for the free drinks.”

“Free drinks? I think I missed that memo?”

Bradley grinned as he motioned towards where Jake was across the room. “His price for dragging me out tonight was picking up my tab.”

Bradley leaned against the bar, nodding toward your empty glass. “Speaking of…need a refill?”

You hesitated, but he shrugged, adding, “Promise I won’t try to trauma-dump on you.”

That earned him a small smirk. “Well, in that case… sure.”

He flagged down the bartender, ordering for you without making a big deal of it. As you waited, you glanced around the room at the couples awkwardly chatting, the guys clearly scanning for their next target, the women trying to seem interested but mostly looking bored.

“This might be the worst Valentine’s Day event in existence,” you muttered.

Bradley let out a low chuckle. “That bad, huh?”

You turned back to him, arching a brow. “Come on, you’ve gotta admit half these people don’t even want to be here.”

He shrugged, smirking. “That includes us, doesn’t it?”

You laughed. “Fair point.”

The bartender slid your drink across the bar, and you murmured a thanks before turning back to Bradley. Somehow, standing next to him felt…easy.

“So, what were you doing before you got roped into this disaster?” he asked, taking a sip of his own drink.

You shrugged. “Had plans to drink wine, eat chocolate, and watch literally anything that wasn’t romance related. But my friends staged an intervention.”

Bradley smirked. “Tragic. What were you gonna watch?”

“Probably a concert film. You know, something that really captures the Valentine’s Day spirit.”

His grin widened. “Concert film, huh? What band?”

You lit up, immediately launching into a mini rant about your favorite band. You talked about their best albums, the time you saw them live, how their early work was underrated but their newer stuff still held up.

And Bradley listened. Not in the way people do when they’re just waiting for their turn to talk, but in a way that made it clear he was actually interested. He nodded along, grinning at your enthusiasm, occasionally asking a question or making a comment that proved he was keeping up.

At some point the noise of the bar faded into the background. The awkwardness of the event, the forced conversations, the reason you even came here in the first place…it all disappeared. It was just you and Bradley talking like this was the most natural thing in the world.

And you kind of liked it.

The DJ must have had a cruel sense of humor because without warning the music shifted from upbeat pop to something softer. Something that clearly signaled it was time for couples to pair off.

Around the room, people hesitated before awkwardly stepping closer to their dates or scanning for someone to dance with. You weren’t planning on participating until you caught movement out of the corner of your eye. It was him. The guy Bradley had saved you from earlier. He was lingering near the bar, glancing in your direction like he was debating coming over for round two.

You groaned under your breath. Bradley must have followed your gaze because he leaned in slightly, voice low and amused. “Uh oh. I think your ex therapy patient wants a second session.”

You shot him a look. “Don’t even joke.”

His lips twitched like he was fighting back a laugh. Then after a beat he nudged you with his elbow. “We could always pretend to be together. Save you from another deep dive into his complicated emotions.”

You arched a brow. “Oh, we could, huh?”

Bradley shrugged. “I mean I’d hate to see you suffer.”

You rolled your eyes but honestly? The idea didn’t sound half bad. Better than standing here pretending not to notice your former conversation partner lurking nearby.

“…Fine,” you sighed.

His grin was instant like he’d known you’d agree. Without another word he reached for your hand, his fingers warm as they laced easily through yours. Before you could process that he was already tugging you toward the dance floor.

“Smooth,” you muttered as you followed.

He glanced back smirking. “I have my moments.”

You stopped near the edge of the dance floor where other couples had already started swaying to the music. Bradley turned to face you, his expression a mix of amusement and something softer, unreadable.

“Alright,” he said, his voice teasing but gentle as he placed one hand at your waist. “Try not to fall in love with me.”

You snorted. “I’ll do my best.”

Dancing with Bradley was… easy. You had expected it to be awkward and stiff like the kind of slow dances you endured at high school prom. But he moved with an effortless confidence, his hand steady at your waist, his grip firm but not overbearing.

“So,” he said, his voice warm and low over the music, “how am I doing so far? Best fake Valentine’s date you’ve ever had?”

You smirked. “I don’t know. The bar’s pretty low. But I’ll give you points for effort.”

Bradley let out a soft chuckle, his thumb absently tracing small, slow circles where it rested against your waist. You weren’t sure if he even realized he was doing it, but you noticed. And suddenly, the room felt just a little warmer.

The first song came to an end, and for a second, you thought about stepping back, about making some teasing remark and putting space between you. But before you could, the opening chords of a new song filled the air. A song from your favorite band. Your favorite song.

Your eyes widened. “No way.”

Bradley’s mouth quirked into a knowing grin. “What are the odds?”

You looked up at him, suspicious. “You didn’t request this, did you?”

He shook his head, smirking. “Nope. But now that it’s playing, it’d be wrong not to keep dancing.”

Before you could argue—not that you really wanted to—he pulled you back in.

And this time, you let yourself sink into it.

Somewhere between the first verse and the chorus, the space between you disappeared. His hands settled more firmly at your waist, his fingers pressing lightly into the fabric of your shirt. Without really thinking about it, your arms slid up, looping around his neck.

You felt him exhale, a quiet little laugh against your temple. “See? You’re having fun.”

You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling. “Don’t let it go to your head, Rooster.”

He grinned, tilting his head slightly. “Too late.”

The warmth of him, the way his chest brushed yours with every slow step, the way his voice curled around your name when he murmured it just loud enough for you to hear. It all felt so natural and easy, like you’d been dancing with him forever instead of just minutes.

And when he made a dry teasing comment about one of the couples beside you, something about their awkward middle school dance stance you tipped your head back and laughed.

The sound must have done something to him because his hold on you tightened, just slightly. Just enough that you felt it. Just enough that you didn’t want to let go.

The song drifted into its final chords, but neither of you stepped away immediately. You were still close. Closer than you probably should have been considering this whole thing had started as an excuse to avoid bad small talk.

Bradley was looking at you, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips, like he knew exactly what he was doing. Like he knew you weren’t in a hurry to move either. But then the DJ switched back to something obnoxiously upbeat, and the spell broke.

Bradley exhaled, glancing around before leaning down slightly, speaking just loud enough for you to hear. “Alright. You wanna get out of here?”

You arched a brow, pretending to consider it. “Bradley Bradshaw, are you trying to take me home?”

His smirk widened. “Would it work?”

You scoffed, even as heat curled in your stomach. “Not a chance.”

He chuckled. “Good to know.” Then, with an easy shrug, he added, “I was thinking we could go do something actually fun.”

You tilted your head. “Oh yeah? Like what?”

“I don’t know yet. But I promise it’ll be better than this disaster.” He gestured around the bar where people were still fumbling their way through awkward conversations and stilted dances.

You eyed him, considering. “You do realize this is how horror movies start, right? Some girl follows a charming guy into the night, never to be seen again.”

Bradley placed a hand over his heart, feigning offense. “You wound me.”

You bit back a grin. “Shouldn’t you buy me dinner first?”

He didn’t miss a beat. “You hungry?”

You blinked. “…Are you serious?”

Bradley grinned. “Why not? We ditch this place, get some food, and actually enjoy the rest of the night.”

You should have said no. You should have come up with an excuse, played it safe, stuck to your original plan of going home alone.

But instead, you found yourself saying, “Alright, Bradshaw. You’ve got yourself a deal.”

His grin turned downright smug. “Knew you couldn’t resist.”

You rolled your eyes, but you let him take your hand anyway, following him toward the exit. Leaving behind the bad dates, the awkward glances, and the Valentine’s Day you thought you were going to have, and stepping into the one you never saw coming.

The bar door swung shut behind you, the cool night air a welcome contrast to the stuffy heat inside. You hadn’t realized how loud it was until now. It was so much easier to breathe out here.

Bradley, still holding your hand like it was the most natural thing in the world, shot you a look. “Alright, I’m thinking pizza. And not some fancy, sit down place. I mean real pizza.”

You smirked. “Define real pizza.”

His eyes glinted. “Late night counter service, greasy but perfect pizza.”

“…Go on.”

“There’s a spot a few blocks from here. Open late, no frills, just damn good food.”

You pretended to think about it, though your stomach had already made the decision for you. “Fine. But if it sucks, I’m never trusting you again.”

Bradley laughed, leading the way down the sidewalk. “That’s a lot of pressure, sweetheart.”

When you arrived after a short walk from the bar, the place was exactly as he’d described. A hole in the wall joint with neon signs buzzing faintly in the window and the unmistakable scent of fresh pizza wafting out the door.

Bradley let you step inside first, the warmth from the ovens immediately washing over you. The glass display case was lined with massive slices ready to grab and go.

“Alright,” he said scanning the selection. “You a toppings person, or are we keeping it classic?”

“Pepperoni,” you answered without hesitation.

His smile was approving. “Good choice.” He turned to the guy behind the counter. “Two slices of pepperoni, please.”

You arched a brow. “Two? What if I wanted two slices?”

Bradley gave you a look. “Trust me. You won’t want the second when you see the size of these.”

He wasn’t wrong.

A few minutes later, you were standing outside, each holding a massive, perfectly greasy slice, the warmth seeping into your fingers as you took your first bite.

You groaned. “Okay. Fine. You were right. This is really good pizza.”

Bradley grinned, chewing his own bite. “Told you.”

The street was quiet, save for the occasional car rolling by and the faint hum of city life in the distance. For a moment, you just stood there, eating in comfortable silence.

Then, Bradley wiped his fingers on a napkin and glanced over at you. “So.”

You swallowed your bite, eyeing him warily. “So.”

His smirk was lazy, unreadable. “Wanna head back to my place?”

You nearly choked. “Wow. Straight to the point, huh?”

Bradley laughed. “Not like that.” He gestured to the nearly empty street. “It’s still early. I figured we could keep hanging out…unless you’re dying to go home.”

You hesitated for a moment, considering the offer. It wasn’t that late, and you weren’t tired. And if you were being honest with yourself you didn’t really want to say goodnight yet.

“…Alright, Bradshaw,” you said, giving him a knowing look. And just like that, you found yourself following him into the night.

When you reached the curb, he gestured toward an old but well kept Bronco parked under the glow of a streetlamp. It suited him. It was rugged, classic, and also a little effortlessly cool.

You expected him to climb in first, but instead he reached for the passenger door, pulling it open.

You blinked, caught off guard. “Seriously?”

Bradley just shrugged, stepping back to give you space. “What? You think I don’t have manners?”

You narrowed your eyes playfully. “I don’t know. I just didn’t peg you as the door-opening type.”

His smirk was subtle but genuine. “Guess I like keeping you on your toes.”

Still eyeing him, you slid into the seat. The door shut with a solid thunk, and a moment later Bradley was rounding the hood and climbing in behind the wheel.

Bradley’s place was exactly what you would’ve expected. Laid back, a little old school, but effortlessly him. Warm lighting, a well-loved couch, a few framed photos on the walls, and a record player in the corner. It felt lived in, comfortable.

“You want a beer?” he asked as he tossed his keys onto the counter.

You nodded, stepping further inside. “Yeah, sure.”

Bradley grabbed two from the fridge, popping the caps off with practiced ease before handing one to you. You took a sip as he led you toward the couch, where he sank down with an easy sprawl.

You hesitated for half a second before sitting next to him, tucking your legs underneath you. The conversation picked up right where it had left off with music, movies, dumb things you’d both done as kids.

At some point you kicked off your shoes and stretched your legs out, your sock clad feet nudging his thigh. Bradley didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he absentmindedly rested a hand on your shin as he talked, fingers tracing lazy patterns against the fabric of your jeans.

You should’ve noticed it earlier. That shift, that subtle change in the air. Because somewhere between the teasing and the laughter, something had settled in the space between you. Something quieter. Heavier. Bradley’s fingers stilled against your leg, his gaze flicking to yours.

You swallowed. “What?”

He shook his head, his voice softer now. “Nothing.”

But it wasn’t nothing, and you both knew it. The air crackled, and before you could second guess it, you were shifting closer. Bradley’s hand slid up, palm skimming your knee before settling at your waist. His fingers curled there, warm and steady.

You weren’t sure who leaned in first, but suddenly, he was right there. His breath fanned across your lips, his eyes locked onto yours, searching.

And then he kissed you. It was slow at first, just the soft press of his lips against yours, like he was testing the waters. But when you didn’t pull away and you kissed him back,he deepened it, his hand tightening at your waist as he pulled you closer.

Your fingers found the back of his neck, threading into his hair, and he groaned low in his throat, a sound that sent heat curling through your stomach. By the time you finally broke apart, you were breathless.

Bradley rested his forehead against yours, his lips quirking. “So… I’m guessing you don’t regret leaving that singles event?”

You laughed, still catching your breath. “Not even a little bit.”

Bradley’s hands were still resting at your waist, warm and steady, as you hovered just inches from him. The air between you felt charged, humming with something unspoken but undeniable. You moved first, shifting onto your knees before slowly swinging a leg over his lap, settling yourself against him. Bradley inhaled sharply, his hands tightening their hold on you like he was still processing what was happening, like he needed a second to let himself feel you there.

“Yeah?” His voice was low, rough around the edges, his hands twitching slightly against your hips.

You nodded, fingers trailing up the back of his neck as you leaned in. “Yeah.”

That was all he needed.

His mouth met yours again, deeper this time, the hesitancy from before fading as he pulled you closer, molding you against him. Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging lightly, and he let out a quiet groan that sent a shiver down your spine.

His hands, large and warm, traced slow circles at your waist before slipping under your shirt. His palms pressed against your bare skin, mapping their way up your sides, his touch reverent like he was savoring every inch of you.

He paused, giving you a chance to stop him, but you weren’t going anywhere. You lifted your arms, silently telling him to keep going, and Bradley took his time easing your shirt up and over your head, his eyes flickering over your newly exposed skin. His fingers followed the path of his gaze, tracing along your ribs, your back, your shoulders.

“Damn,” he murmured, almost to himself, before leaning in to kiss you again, slower this time, deeper, his lips moving with purpose as his hands roamed over you.

You shifted in his lap, pressing closer, and that was when something changed. His grip on you tightened, his fingers digging into your skin like he suddenly couldn’t get enough. His kisses turned hungrier, his breath heavier as he tilted his head, deepening the kiss until all you could do was melt into him.

You gasped as his mouth trailed along your jaw, then down the column of your throat, his lips and tongue leaving a heated path in their wake. His hands moved again, exploring more boldly now, and you arched into him, letting yourself feel everything. His touch, his warmth, the way he was unraveling right along with you.

Your fingers moved with growing urgency, skimming over Bradley’s shoulders as you tried to push off that damn ugly printed shirt. But the fabric bunched awkwardly at his arms, refusing to cooperate. Frustrated, you tugged harder, reaching for the undershirt beneath it too, wanting them both gone except now you were tangled in two layers of fabric, and nothing was coming off the way you wanted.

Bradley chuckled against your skin, his breath warm where his lips had been trailing along your collarbone. 

“Impatient, huh?” His voice was teasing, but there was something deeper laced in it too, something thick with amusement and want.

You huffed, still struggling. “If you’d stop wearing so many damn layers—”

He cut you off with another quiet laugh before leaning back slightly. “Here,” he murmured, his hands covering yours, steadying them. “Let me help you out, sweetheart.”

Your stomach flipped at the easy way the endearment rolled off his tongue, but before you could dwell on it, Bradley took control. He shrugged out of the over shirt first, letting it drop to the floor before crossing his arms to pull the undershirt over his head in one smooth motion.

And damn.

Your breath hitched as you finally took him in. His broad shoulders, toned chest, the soft trail of hair leading down his stomach. His dog tags rested against his skin, catching the low light of the room, and for a moment, you just stared.

Bradley smirked, clearly enjoying your reaction. “Better?”

You didn’t answer. Not with words, anyway. Instead, you leaned in, hands splaying against his bare chest as you kissed him again, slow and deep, making sure he felt exactly how much you appreciated the view.

Bradley groaned against your lips, his hands sliding back to your waist before gripping your hips firmly, grounding you against him. The kiss deepened, turning messier, more desperate, and when you rolled your hips just slightly, testing the friction, that was when he lost the last bit of his restraint.

His grip tightened, his breath shuddering against your mouth. “You’re playing with fire, sweetheart.”

You smirked. “Maybe I like the heat.”

His eyes darkened, his jaw tightening for half a second before he suddenly moved, flipping you onto your back on the couch in one swift motion.

You barely had time to gasp before he was hovering over you, his body warm and solid against yours. His lips found your neck again, his hands roaming over newly exposed skin, and suddenly, you weren’t the one in control anymore.

And you definitely didn’t mind.

Bradley’s hands moved with deliberate slowness, fingers grazing over your hips before settling at the waistband of your jeans. His eyes flicked up to yours, silently asking for permission. When you nodded, he made quick work of the button and zipper, his fingers brushing over your skin as he tugged them down your legs, leaving you in just your underwear.

He leaned back slightly, his gaze raking over you, dark and unreadable for a moment. Then, a slow smirk tugged at his lips. His voice was rougher now, lower, as he shook his head. “You’re even prettier than I imagined.”

Your breath hitched, warmth spreading through your chest at his words, at the way he was looking at you like he wanted to devour you.

Then, before you could think of a response, he dipped his head, pressing his lips to the base of your throat. His mouth was warm, his kisses slow and reverent as he made his way down, lingering at the delicate skin along your collarbone, then lower, teasing over your ribs before his hands found your thighs.

He shifted, lowering himself onto the floor in front of the couch, his large, rough palms pressing against your inner thighs as he spread them apart. The contrast between his calloused hands and the soft skin of your legs sent a shiver up your spine.

Bradley’s breath was warm against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine as his mouth trailed lower until it hovered just above the place you ached for him most. His grip on your thighs tightened, thumbs stroking slow, lazy circles into your skin as if savoring the anticipation.

“Still with me?” he murmured, his voice husky, teasing.

You let out a shaky breath, your fingers sinking into his thick curls, tugging just enough to earn a soft groan from him. “Bradley—”

His lips curved against your hipbone. “That’s all I needed to hear.”

A slow, unrelenting press of his mouth, a sound of satisfaction rumbling low in his throat as he pulled you closer, as your world narrowed to nothing but the feeling of him, the steady, torturous rhythm of his hands and lips unraveling you piece by piece.

The last coherent thought you had before everything melted into sensation was that you’d never look at him the same way again.

[coquettebratzdoll]

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WE ARE NOT YOUR GODS

Hi dolls! I'm back after a long, long hiatus (Bratz is back). Honestly, getting off Tumblr for a while and just taking time for myself and my life was the best thing I could've done for myself. I feel so much more refreshed and rejuvenated. My blog turned 1 year old a few days ago (yay!) so consider this my comeback post as well as a 1 year anniversary post.

Enough yapping, it's time to get to the point. We are not your Gods; people who shifted/entered the void state are not your Gods; thinkers such as Neville Goddard and Edward Art are not your Gods; people who run shiftblrs and loablrs are not your Gods; methods, techniques, meditations, and whatever else are not your Gods.

It's really as simple as that. Some of y'all really don't understand that we are just people: we don't have all the answers.

"But Athena, can't you just-"

No, I can't tell you why you haven't shifted after years of trying; I'm still figuring things out myself.

No, I can't manifest for you in the void state; it'll only be true in my reality and not yours.

No, I can't hand you all the answers on a silver platter; I am simply giving you my knowledge, experience, and vibes so you can take what resonates and leave what doesn't.

I get it, I used to be in the same boat. All these things felt so elusive and I mythologised them in my mind. After all, those bloggers were seemingly the "proof" I needed to know that everything I believe in and work towards is actually achievable. However, this mindset can quickly devolve if you aren't careful.

You see, these thoughts can create a reliance on external sources of validation. You can't really believe that shifting/manifesting/the void state is real or possible without others proving it to you. Soon enough, anecdotes aren't enough. You'll want more, really, something that you can grasp onto and give you hope that it's really true. This can lead you to putting other things onto a pedestal, creating a dependence on outside factors for everything: validation, motivation, you name it.

Let's go back to the basics (I wanna, wanna, wanna take you to the basics):

There are the 3D and 4D realities.

The 3D is what you perceive on a daily basis: it is the reason why you can "physically" read and interact with this post, along with other daily activities. However, it is not real. The 3D is a reflection of your dominant assumptions, beliefs, and state.

The 4D is the only real reality. It is what we would call our "imagination". Everything and nothing is simultaneously real in the 4D. It is the only genuine reality.

By putting all your reliance onto outside factors, you are giving your power away as well. It is also leaving you vulnerable to toxic mentalities and negative thinking because you are cementing the belief that you aren't enough. This is harmful not only to your journey, but also your mental and physical health as well. (Note: the opposite of always being happy can also be harmful as well. The best advice would be to allow your emotions to come as they do and to not suppress or exaggerate them. Shadow work and meditation are also things to look into if you struggle with either one).

Please, remember that we are not the answer, we do not hold the key, and we do not hold the power: you do. At the end of the day, your journey is a solo one and the things you'll discover about yourself are yours to find.