#and how if they actually wanted to do something right then-

[cowboyheyxu]

caleb is 10 when he realizes that he's a physical touch fiend. the rush he gets when his hand lingers on top of your skin after playing with you is like no other. when he presses into your side while you're reading, his thoughts always circle around one topic: you, you, you. when you would run into his room after a nightmare, caleb was ready to swoop you in his arms and hold you until you fell asleep. every response towards you was involuntary.

caleb is 15 when he realizes that teasing 13-year-old you becomes irresistible. when he holds up your book, pencil, or some other item in the air, he watches as you jump up and down to try and grab it back. he's grown a lot in three years; if he had to estimate, he's a whole head taller than you now—20cm at least.

when you throw yourself onto him in an attempt to get your stuff back, he falters. you're laying against him on the couch, shuffling and moving up and down over his body, and caleb's breath hitches. you're so close and right there.

he's going insane. you can't even stand up for five seconds before caleb pulls you down against him once more, saying something about retaliation or revenge while tickling you to death.

caleb is 20 when he's about to leave for the DAA. there's an air of silence around the house. you've trapped yourself in your room more often, stressing over your senior finals. at least, that's what you've been telling him.

"i'm sorry caleb, i really need to study for this test."

"oh! i totally forgot about that project i had due tonight. shit, i'm sorry caleb. we'll have another movie night soon, okay?"

he doesn't know if you're actually this busy or if you're actually ignoring him. all he does know is that he misses you. he wonders about how he could miss someone who was in the room across from him. you were so close, but so far.

when you found out he was leaving—though you had a grin on your face while congratulating him—caleb knew you were devastated. he wondered if you were secretly mad at him for leaving.

two weeks before his departure, he practically forces you to be around him. he laid down next to you like before. he stroked your hair while you napped on the couch. he teased you and picked you up so you could hit him and grab him like you used to. he always chose to put his arm around you during a movie. he dragged you by the hand all around the neighborhood. he needed to all of that again, a thousand times more.

but at 24, it seems like there may have been a wedge between the two of you. calls are more and more infrequent.

"sorry, space signal sucks," he'd type.

"sorry, i was busy with training!" you'd reply, 2 days later.

he thinks that he would do anything to go back to before. he hasn't felt you in months. he sees you only twice a year.

it's hard. it was excruciating during the first few weeks. not only was he dealing with bootcamp, but he always found himself looking to his side, thinking you'd be there with him. at night, you were there, right next to him in bed.

he imagined that you would whisper words of reassurance in his ear. you'd hold onto him like you used to, when you had nightmares, and wrap your legs between his. there were days where we stroked his necklace, wishing that it was your hand instead. what he would give to have you next to him.

all he wants is to be able to feel you again. he chastises his 10-year-old self for taking you for granted back then. he wants to feel the apples of your cheeks when he caresses your face. once,—when he was 13 (you, 11)—he did that, and he thought you had a fever the way you warmed up. if he could, caleb would build a time machine to go back to that.

caleb is 25 when he is out of your life.

he thinks about you every day. it reminds him of when he was in bootcamp five years ago. it takes him back to when he was fifteen; you were on top of him, and his brain was fried to a crisp. caleb wonders if he's always been this way, because he can recall that at ten, you were still the only thing consuming his mind.

even during his arm repairs, you're there throughout all the pain.

when you discover his metal arm, all of caleb's instincts point to the door. he's spent so long trying to hide it from you: it's the constant long-sleeves (even though they made him incredibly uncomfortable), or making sure to only touch you with his left-hand (even though he wanted to pull you in with both hands).

but he stays. because it's you.

you freeze momentarily, listening to his writhes and moans of pain. caleb only notices you're there when he feels your hands brush his shoulder. he jolts back in surprise, and he sees you looming over him.

he stammers something, not even sure of what he said because you're here. you see him. you see it.

caleb's wanted this for so long. he wanted to see you again, in a state where you were both vulnerable, like old times. however, that moment probably wouldn't have come if he doesn't confess about this, so he relays the details.

you listen attentively, eyes wide with shock as caleb goes on. your hands wrap around his metal one, and he feels nothing. it's agonizing. he sees you examine him so gently. your fingers trace over bolts and plates of metal, lightly stroking up and down his arm. and caleb feels nothing.

how often has he dreamed of this? for you to be touching him again, so intimately and softly? he's stayed up countless nights wishing for you to be here, just so he can put his arms around you in a crushing embrace, only to be incapable of feeling you on one side of his body.

you pull away from his arm, asking if the fleet was accountable. when he doesn't say anything, he feels your weight lift off the bed and go towards the door.

whatever happens next is involuntary. he uses his flesh arm to pull you back, caging you between his forearm and his chest. there's no thought to it, no rationalization. it's just you and him. and he's been deprived of this for so long.

he breathes into the crevice of your neck, and he has half a mind to place his entire face there. he wants to breathe you in after being away from you for so long. no conversations, no contact, no touching. the last time he was this close to you was years ago. he needs this, caleb thinks.

the feel of you against his bare chest is something he cannot seem to describe. it's like he's his teenage (or even kid) self again, where he seems to short-circuit whenever he comes in contact with you. you're still small compared to him, but you fit perfectly like you did a decade ago.

he lets you go after he feels you trembling. you don't hesitate to place your hands on his waist and tackle him onto the bed. you catch him off-guard as you pin him beneath you, looking straight into his eyes.

"hold me," you plead, "with your right hand."

caleb lets out a shaky breath. there are voltages of electricity flowing through him—literally and figuratively. his skin sparks alive when he feels you. will it be the same with the metal arm?

slowly, caleb raises his mechanical arm. he wraps it around you, and feels the movement of your back shift downwards. you released a breath you didn't know you were holding. caleb held his.

you wait patiently before caleb starts running his metal hand up and down your back. you watch him exhale as he continues. you press your forehead on his, and you breathe in tandem with him.

caleb is 25 when he discovers that he loves physical touch.

wow like i didn't expect this to get so long... but like here we are???

i think we need to start embracing touch-starved caleb in all of our fics. this man hasn't seen the love of his life in YEARS (infrequently, anyway) so i think once she touches him (like INTIMATELY) for the first time in years he goes a little cray.

also sorry the ending was rushed i wanted to get this over with bc i intented this to be like 500 words but obviously it got way longer than that. what can i say... this freak has dug into my brain.

[dollishmehrayan]

# “WOULD YOU DO ANYTHING FOR ME?, BUY A BIG DIAMOND RING FOR ME?” ── .✦ ( how batboys act when they’re engaged w reader )

dollish note ౨ৎ: I lowkey crashed out over losing Americans on tiktok but this woke up to post on tumblr but hey, also can we talk about how trump used that as a pr stunt && thought we wouldn’t notice wtf like omgg the way many americans caught on, alsoo please leave some motivation for me because I just kinda lost motivation for this app after the tiktok thingy went down 🫠 tags: (batboys x engaged!reader)

© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

Over the moon and not afraid to show it. Dick tells everyone the second you say yes. Alfred? He knows. Random stranger in the grocery store? The metro security guy?, Yep, they know too. He’s got that goofy, lovestruck grin plastered on his face 24/7.

Wedding planning enthusiast. You thought you’d do most of the planning? Wrong. Dick’s fully invested, showing you Pinterest boards of venues, color schemes, and “Do you think Nightwing blue (dollish note: I think ‘#3366CC’ perhaps?) would be tacky for the napkins?”

Gets sappy at random times. You’ll catch him staring at you with a dreamy look, and when you ask why, he just shrugs. “I’m just thinking about how lucky I am.”, “Dick calm down you only proposed like 2 weeks ago.”

Brags to the Batfam constantly. “Guys, I’m going to be a husband! Can you believe it? Me! Richard Grayson!” Bruce pretends to be joyful a bit but he’s done hearing it for the 777x time but even he cracks a small smile when Dick won’t shut up about you.

Practices saying his vows in the mirror. You walked in on him once, and he was mortified. “Okay, but you didn’t hear the good part yet!”, “You literally finished the whole paper !!”

JASON TODD ── .✦

Acts like it’s not a big deal, but it’s huge for him. He’ll play it cool at first, saying something like, “It’s just a ring, babe.” But deep down, he’s nervous, excited, and trying not to let it show.

Keeps the engagement low-key. Jason’s not one for flashy announcements or grand gestures. He wants this to be something special between you two, not the whole world.

Protective x10. Now that you’re officially going to be his spouse, Jason is extra watchful. He’s already looking into ways to keep you safe and makes sure you’re never caught in the crossfire of his vigilante life.

Wants you to be 100% comfortable. He checks in with you constantly about the wedding plans. “We don’t have to do anything big, okay? Just say the word, and it’s done.” He’ll let you take the lead but secretly loves when you include him.

Teases you with the whole “fiancé” thing. “Hey, fiancée. Can you grab my coffee? Oh, did I mention you’re my fiancée now?” It’s his way of hiding how excited he really is.

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

Nervous wreck but totally in love. Tim overthinks everything after proposing. Did he pick the right ring? Did he say the right words? Is he even ready to be a husband? But every time he sees you smile, it calms him down.

Keeps it practical. Tim doesn’t want a huge engagement party or a grand wedding. He’s more focused on what your future together will look like your shared goals, finances, and making sure you’re both on the same page.

Researches marriage like it’s a mission. He has books on successful relationships, listens to podcasts, and even makes a checklist for wedding planning. You find it adorable when he starts using color coded spreadsheets.

Loves when you call him your fiancé. The first time you said it, he blushed so hard he had to look away. Now he’s low-key obsessed with hearing it. “You don’t have to keep calling me that… but don’t stop either.”

Gets emotional when he thinks about the future. You once caught him staring at the engagement ring on your finger, looking teary-eyed. When you asked what was wrong, he said, “I just can’t believe you’re actually mine.” (I would’ve smacked the shit out of him for that, I don’t do romance 🙄💪)

[wonderjanga]

What if when Billy gets put behind the x-ray and Batman's like "where are your bones" Billy panics, so bones appear, except, Billy doesnt actually? Know? How human bones work? So like, he just has a lot of bones under the x-ray now, except there are way too many and also that's not how ones are supposed to look like and fit in the human body??? Why is his whole torso from neck to butt covered in spines??? They're only supposed to be at the chest!

Marvel’s biology is strange. Batman knows that. After all, he and Martian Manhunter oversee the medical examinations of heroes. For some reason though, J’onn isn’t too concerned about it even though he definitely should be. That might be because of the fact J’onn’s a shapeshifter but still. Like…

Batman: “Say ah, Captain.”

Marvel: “Aaaaaaaah…”

Batman: *puts a popsicle stick on his tongue and looks around his mouth*

Marvel: “I’ evrythg gud? (Is everything good?)”

Batman: “Captain… Why do your teeth extend past your throat?”

Marvel: “Wha?”

Batman: “Why do your teeth continue past the normal amount until they disappear down your throat?” *gets a little flash light and peers it into Billy’s throat*

Marvel: “I’ tha no norma? (Is that not normal?)”

Batman: “No? Maybe?” *takes the popsicle stick away and turns off the flashlight*

Marvel: “How many teeth do normal people have?”

Batman: “32.”

Marvel: “Oh, okay. Check again.” *opens his mouth and he now has 32 normal teeth before closing it back up* “Is that better?”

Batman: “It is for humans.”

Marvel: “Oh, well then that’s good because I’m an adult human male aren’t I?”

Batman: Why are you asking me?

The fact that Marvel had to ask if he was an adult human male was extremely offputting.

or

Supes: *using X-ray vision on Billy* “Cap, why do you only have lungs, a heart and a brain?”

Marvel: “What do you mean?”

Supes: “I mean, you only have lungs, a heart, and a brain. How are you standing?”

Marvel: “Uh…”

Supes: “Is that normal for your species or something?”

Marvel: What do you mean species? I’m human?”

Supes: “Then how…?”

Marvel: “Can you show me a photo of human bodily innards?”

Supes: *confused at the suddenness of the question* “Why?”

Marvel: “Just cause.”

Supes: “Okay…” *shows him*

Random Bystander: *sees this and immediately thinks the two are gore fanatics*

Marvel: “Thanks! Now check again.”

Supes: “Woah… how do you do that?”

Marvel: “Well, I’m a human adult male. Aren’t I supposed to have those organs?”

Later, when Marvel told Flash about that incident…

Flash: “Geez, Cap. It’s like you were built by a kid!”

Marvel: “Ha ha ha… I know, right?”

JL: *laughing*

Marvel: *awkward laughing*

Batman: *sees the awkward laughing*

Bruce somehow came up with the theory that Marvel was built by a child God and that’s why his biology was weird despite the fact he claimed to be a human adult male. But then again, if he was built by a child God, would they want him to tweak his creation every single time he wishes to be more human?

[syoddeye]

simon doesn't pursue people, he operates more like a one-man strike team. his approach to human connection is transactional, pragmatic, a matter of logistics.

on the rare occasion he's looking for company, he wants someone easy, who won't fuss when he introduces them to a thin motel mattress. won't ask what he does for work or try to make plans for the morning. won't bother him about 'next time'. nothing long-term. no strings.

he doesn't have a 'type' so much as a protocol: pick someone malleable, pliant, and preferably on the pill.

then you start working at his local.

the first time he sees you, he doesn't notice much beyond the basics: efficiency, attentiveness, pouring pints and bantering with the regulars with aplomb. by the second or third time, he's paying closer attention. you're not just good at your job—you're quick, always three steps ahead of the chaos. you give out smiles left and right, but it's more muscle memory than genuine warmth. and you're clever, too. funny, even, when someone manages to earn your attention for longer than a transaction.

you could probably keep up with his humor. go toe-to-toe.

you're off-limits, though. that's the rule. bartenders are switzerland—neutral territory. don't shit where you eat. it's a system that works, so long as he doesn't let himself think too much about the view when you lean over the counter or the lilt of your voice when you ask what he's having tonight.

then one evening, you take another man's number. some leering idiot, too comfortable with inserting himself into your space, grinning like he's cracked your code because you haven't humbled him. simon doesn't react, not outwardly. he nurses his drink and watches as you smile, slip the napkin into your pocket, and turn back to the bar.

but that's when you become a problem.

he tells himself it doesn't matter, that it's nothing. he doesn't want a number or a date. but the thought of someone else having you—someone who doesn't know what to do with a woman like you—it's a splinter buried just deep enough to keep him thinking about it. irritating, prone to fester.

how to approach you, though? he can't be as direct as he'd like, can't pin you down with a look or crass words. no way to corner you when you're safe behind the counter, or disappearing through a staff door. hanging around until you're off would be pathetic. dog behavior, he thinks, with a twinge of contempt for the mental image. he's got too much self-respect for that, at least.

no, he's got to actually make an effort. use his words.

the next time he comes in, he waits. no more corner tables or watching from afar. he sits close, pretends not to notice how your hands look slicing a lime. he orders his usual and tries not to overthink your tone when you set it down in front of him.

"you alright?"

you reach for his card, fingers pinching the plastic, but he holds on, smirking when you tug and then huff.

this is the moment. his moment. the one he's been building toward in his head for days. but there's a hitch, a blip in his usual confidence, and he fumbles. he blames your perfume.

"so…you come here often?"

not what he meant to say, but not the worst.

the shockwave of his nuclear-level failure doesn't register until your lips twitch, and it finally sinks in. his eyes widen a fraction as the realization lands. oh, he's fucked it. all his rehearsing, for nothing.

"…yeah," you say, voice flat, a single brow raised as you gesture vaguely toward the bar around you. "i work here?"

his mouth dries, but his face doesn't change. he doesn't fight it when you pull the card out of his grasp. there's the barest glint of something in your eyes—amusement, maybe, or pity. he's not sure which is worse.

you turn away to ring him up, but when you glance back, he's gone.

[erwinsvow]

you'd never really put this much effort in at other houses. while you're scrubbing the countertops to remove every last bit of evidence that someone—anyone—had made a mess there, you think about the other houses you used to babysit for.

used to, since there was no need to babysit anymore. mister cameron, who will always remain mister cameron—no matter how much he reminds you to call him rafe—actually pays you double what your other families did. he's a busy guy. you know this for a fact—single dad and some big business guy that people in town used to talk about all the time when you used to listen—so he'd have last minute emergencies and random business calls all the time.

his exact words had been something along the lines of "don't wanna share you with anyone else," but even thinking about that encounter makes your face burn with so much intensity that you think you're going to collapse. that's not what he meant, obviously, he was trying to tell you in nicer words that it was annoying when you replied to his texts explaining how another family had booked you already for that night. so when he upped your rate and said that he'd even pay to say no to others, just in case, you would have been really stupid to say no.

you don't hear much about him anymore, when you're out and about. you spend so much time at the cameron house that your own little apartment seems like nothing more than a bed and a place to get ready before leaving. you practically eat three meals a day with the baby, so even your grocery shopping is in that part of town—all organic, expensive places where you talk to the baby and try to get her opinion on which vegetable puree she'd like to try this week.

it's kind of like playing pretend. no, it's really like playing pretend. you used to dress in the normal, comfortable clothes that were sufficient for babysitting every other family—overalls and sneakers—but now you don't fit in unless you're in a pretty dress and nice sandals. you stay in one outfit from when you show up before mister cameron leaves to when you drive home at the end of the night.

that's the other thing—your car. you've made it work with the same one since you could first drive. it's a little rusty, a little dinged up, but safe as can be. it's nothing fancy but it got you around. but now you do other things for rafe that you never did for other families—grocery shopping and errands and the occasional doctor's appointment if rafe really, really can't make it. you don't mind at all—it's fun to play pretend and you love her like she's your own, but mister cameron tries to make it to every appointment himself, because he really cares about his daughter. it's admirable because you don't see it in every single household.

you hadn't thought there was anything wrong with your car until one day you couldn't get the air conditioning to work, and the back window got jammed and the baby looked so uncomfortable that you had to skip out on whatever you were supposed to do that day. when mister cameron came home that night you apologized so much that you started crying—because really, you never thought there was something wrong with your car and you didn't want to make the baby drive in the heat, just in case. you think he'll be mad, there's no groceries and his suit is still at the cleaner's, and the lotion that you use every night after bathtime has ran out and there'll be none for tomorrow—but he's not.

he's not mad at all. he seems... tired. he seems worried. the first thing he asks that night is if you and the baby are okay. when you nod, afraid that this is the calm before the storm, he sighs.

"good. that's all i care about," and the way he says it—you believe him right away. maybe that's the night your little crush on mister cameron started forming. it'd always been there in the background, you'd be an idiot of massive proportions to deny it. but it felt different somehow, watching him roll up his sleeves and pulling out whatever ingredients there were left over to make dinner with, something that you normally tried to have done every night for him, while telling you to take a seat.

that night he asks about your car—how old is it, when'd you get it, how many miles. do you like the model? would you want bigger, smaller, a different color? it's just conversation—he probably likes cars with the way there's a really nice in the garage under a sheet and a nice but safer one that he takes to work everyday.

(while he's cooking pasta and cutting vegetables, you try to get up and help, but he meets your eyes and shakes his head. wordlessly, you obey and sit back down.)

that's the first night things felt different. you drove home a little giddy, later than normal, stomach full and heart a little too happy that you found it in yourself to finally have a real, nice conversation with mister cameron. you're as shy as they come but your interactions with him are limited—before work, a phone call at lunch (though recently, his first question hasn't been about the baby... it's been how are my girls?), and after work before you leave.

it feels good to know that you're doing something right, that you're good at this even on your bad days. you make a point to leave your place extra early that week, stopping at the pharmacy and picking up the lotion so it's one less thing to worry about. your window still won't roll down and you'll have to figure out how to get the groceries delivered, crossing your fingers that it doesn't cost that much more.

you show up a couple minutes early and go inside to sort out the stuff for the baby before she wakes, when you find mister cameron in the nursery.

"good morning," you say quietly, though it comes out a little above a whisper. she's still sleeping, even though you haven't glanced in the crib, you know her schedule like the back of your hand.

"hey, kid," he says, and your heart starts to thud a little faster. mister cameron's nicknames for you don't make an appearance everyday but for some reason, it has today. he hovers over the crib, watching the baby's chest rise and fall with each breath. you go over to join him, placing the lotion on the dresser. he notices the bottle and turns back to you. "you didn't have to do that."

"she needs it," you reply quietly. "it's the only one she likes. and i was up early anyways."

"thank you." it comes out with such sincerity that you're a little taken aback.

"of course, mister cameron. it's nothing," you smile up at him. he glances back at you, smiling and then turning to his daughter again. "i'm gonna go start on her breakfast."

you make your way to the door when he says your name.

"there's keys on the kitchen counter, and the car's in the garage. i'd like it if you started using that car instead."

and really—how are you supposed to respond to that? you stammer out an 'of course, mister cameron' and go downstairs, crossing your fingers that he made a mistake, or that he wants you to drive his car until you fix yours and he'll take the nice one tucked away in the garage.

but when you make it to the counter, and then head to the garage, your eyes nearly fall out of your head. a brand new pair of car keys, to match the brand new car in the garage. your arguments fall on deaf ears—this is way too much for anyone. yes, you're pretty much throwing money away by still paying rent and the cost of getting your car fixed could probably be enough to start paying for a better one, but this is too much. way too much. it's not normal. right?

but you have no one to ask. the baby's not old enough for playdates, and the girls who replaced you at your old houses are pretty much all high school seniors. on mister cameron's side of town, there's only nannies and au pairs, and they'd probably think you're crazy for turning down such a nice gesture.

and it is a nice gesture. mister cameron listens to every word you say, even when you're not paying attention to your own sentence. the car is exactly how you described—the color you wanted, the size you said would be nice one day incase there's ever a playdate or another baby or whatever the case may be. it's shiny and brand-new and completely undeserving of you. but he doesn't listen.

somewhere along the next month, you realize you could get really used to this. mister cameron does have a point—you're taking care of his daughter every day, so it only makes sense to make sure she's as safe as can be. you make a mental note that if you ever—for whatever idiotic reason—choose to leave this perfect job, you'll make sure he gets the car back.

there comes a point where the relationship... makes its way to the next level. at the end of every week, you have to settle the bills. co-pays at appointments, grocery receipts, the invoice from the gardener that didn't go through so you had given him your own cash so mister cameron wouldn't have to deal with it from work. it adds up, so once the baby is asleep on saturday night, the two of you eat dinner and go through everything.

but this time, he hands you a card instead. a shiny black credit card that spells out his name on the back.

"makes it a bit easier, right? just use this instead. we won't have to settle every week anymore."

"right," you agree, your smile fading quickly. you try to put on a front, a false expression so he doesn't notice your disappointment. saturday nights with mister cameron—him with his beer and you with a glass of wine—once the baby is asleep, sorting out bills and making conversation that almost felt like you belonged here, had unknowingly become your favorite part of the week. sometimes it would go until midnight, talking about things that were neither here nor there.

it's how you learned why he's a single dad, what he does for work, how he feels about his job and how much time it takes away from his daughter. it's why you started sending him photo and video updates everyday so he wouldn't feel like he's missing out on as much, it's why you make sure to craft the baby's bedtime routine around him coming home, so they have their time together.

"somethin' wrong?" he asks, after taking another sip of beer. you're snapped out of your thoughts, focusing instead of how rafe looks today. tie loosened, sleeves rolled up, fingers curled around the beer bottle.

you don't know how any woman on earth could have walked away from this.

"n-nothing. no. thank you, mister cameron, this is great. i'll make sure-"

"it's rafe from now on—remember, kid?"

"yes. sorry, i-"

you couldn't get out of there fast enough that night. it's almost a subtle reminder from the universe—you're not part of that family. you're the nanny who got too attached, who pretended that she fit in too much to a family that's not hers.

you still wear your nicer clothes, you still drive around his nice car. but you try to remind yourself every now and then that this isn't your real life.

the next day, it's like the universe has decided that it's mad at you for coming to this conclusion.

pouring rain the second you get into the car. your raincoat and umbrella and a sensible pair of shoes remain inside your apartment, and if you sit in idle any longer, you're going to be late to mister cameron's. he'll want to leave early since it's raining, so he's probably expecting you any minute.

the roads are a mess—it's monsooning for no reason and people forget how to drive. you honk no less than three times at idiots on the road before getting scared that someone will road-rage you. when you pull into the garage—because yes, mister cameron insists that you park inside and that he can park outside— you're frazzled and sweating and your day hasn't even started yet.

rafe's almost ready to leave, which is another damper on an already bad morning—if he has time, the two of you eat breakfast together. you tell him to drive safe and apologize for being late when he rushes past you, leaning in to kiss your cheek and telling you that he might he home late today, and to have a good day. you don't realize what's happened until he's gone, the door closing behind him.

you stand in the foyer with your mouth open until you hear the baby monitor. from that point on—it's one thing after another. the baby is fussy today, which is the most unusual part of the day. she's never like this, and you conclude that she must be getting sick or something. it's just as well, because there's no reason to go out or to take her out in this weather. she cries, and you try to help, even cave and put on some episodes of little bear to see if something would distract her. but the poor thing just doesn't feel good, and has no way to tell you how.

the hours fly by, and your head even hurts a little from the crying and the overthinking about the kiss from this morning. in all the rush, you eat about two bites of lunch before the baby needs something else.

and then at the end of the day, right around when rafe should be coming home, he doesn't.

you feed the baby and rock her to sleep. she fusses ten minutes later, and spits up all over you and your hair, and then knocks out. you even spend twenty minutes hovering over the monitor, making sure she's okay while drying your hair. rafe's still not home, so you get dinner ready and warmed for him, eating yours alone in the silence. and as if you could handle another thing, you spill sauce all over your dress while trying to put away the leftovers.

you were going to wait until you were back home, safe in your tiny apartment to cry and shower and scrub your skin raw from the day you've had, but it can't wait any longer. you take the monitor into the bathroom with you at full volume, and decide to shower in the bathroom closest to the baby's room just to be safe.

it's not until you're naked, wrapped in a soft towel and waiting for the water to get scalding hot, racking your brain for the location of the extra clothes you had once brought here that you realize the shower closest to the baby's room is the shower in rafe's bedroom.

you haven't been in here before—looking around at the expensive cologne on the counter and the dark blue towels and the hamper full of yesterday's dress shirt. it's not a good idea to be in here, but you need to shower and you can't wait another minute. for all you know, mister cameron could come home in another two hours. your dress is spinning in the washer—and your plan is set. throw it in the dryer, find something to wear for the next fifty minutes, and leave as soon as he's home even though you can hear the raindrops on the roof and the thunder outside.

the shower is what you have been needing all day. you wish you had your body wash and shampoo, but his aren't too bad. you inhale deeply, realizing you're submerging yourself in his scent. you could stay in there forever, but you don't—he's gonna be home any minute or the baby could start crying, and you need to go home.

but he smells so good. you've noticed it before, it just feels amplified now. the towel you wrap yourself in is his, meaning he's dried himself with it before. all the clothes smell like his cologne, and the house is a little cold and your clothes are still washing, and though it's probably the worst idea you've ever had, when you get out of the shower, you head to his dresser and pull out the first clean t-shirt you can find.

it's big on you, you knew it would be. it's soft and warm and smells undeniably like mister cameron. you're completely clueless, exhausted because the baby barely napped and you barely got any sleep yourself, and it's way past your own bedtime right now. he might not even come home, you think, with how the storm sounds. you check your phone but there's no messages, just a flood warning.

yesterday's socks and underwear are still spinning in the machine—how long does this thing take? what setting had you put it on?—and you begrudgingly leave rafe's warm bedroom with the baby monitor in one hand, and his navy blue towel in the other, drying your hair. you turn on the television, watching whatever's on while you pat your strands dry, bending over to wrap your hair into the towel so you can sit for a couple minutes, when you hear the door open.

you snap back up, looking at rafe's face stare back at you—he's drenched, hair wet and suit dripping, wiping his forehead with his hand when he looks you up and down. oh god, you don't even know what he just saw, you were bent over and-

"is that my shirt?"

[inactiveaccount-lovendeepsecrets]

Domestic + Intimate Headcanons

*Minus Caleb only because his myth and cards aren't out yet, and I don't feel confident adding him when there's so much lore and little quirks we still don't know about him. I shall make a separate post for him if this goes well.

But Hi! This is my 1st hc so please go easy on me. I believe some of the bullet points on here are canon, but I can’t help talking abt how cute this all is 🫠 I'm not the best writer and I tried so hard to be impartial, but you can probably still tell where my bias lies LOL

As always these are just my opinions!!

tags: headcanon, fluff, mostly gender neutral, but these lean towards an afab + fem!reader, 18+

***MDNI; by choosing to interact with this content, you have consented to viewing something nsfw despite the warnings and will be BLOCKED***

Disclaimer: I personally think all of them like praise, body worship and are humungous eaters. If the specifications aren't noted under your fav LI, it's because I didn't want this too become too redundant!

✵ ✰ ✷ ✭✮ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓇼 ⋆｡˚ 𓆝⋆｡˚ ❅ ❆ ❃ 𓆰· 𓆃

Rafayel

SFW

• Has definitely set up a date where you do that TikTok trend painting portraits of each other

• Hates the caricature you two posed for at the amusement park

• On more than one occasion you've (jokingly) threatened to frame said caricature at his gallery to shut him up during an argument

• Is an escape artist. He has a long history of being captured/on the run. It’s no wonder he could easily untie himself from your ropes

• I don't think we talk enough about how rich this man is, but I think he'd be quite into second hand fashion. Think runway archives, vintage designer pieces, custom couture, etc.

• Always drives over the speed limit

• Will never tease you during your art lessons with him

• THE best bf to take pictures of you for your social media accounts. He’d suggest different poses while contorting himself in odd positions on the ground just to get the perfect angle

• Sings you to sleep

• Surprisingly good at doing hair. If you need help dying, braiding, or putting your hair in rollers, he'd actually do a pretty good job.

• Created an entire album on his phone of candid photos he took when you weren't looking

• Also made a scrapbook of polaroids from all your scenic dates and vacations together, most of them are of you

NSFW

• He’s a mermaid. He is the motion of the ocean. The hip movements? Stamina? Best (and prettiest) dick game goes to him, I’m sorry.

• LOUD, noisy, and talkative. Starts to ramble when he’s close

• Wax play? [in the submissive]

• Nipple play [in the submissive]

• Edging + Milking

• I think his open vulnerability makes people think he’s more sub leaning, but some of it’s for show

• Because of your bond, he’ll submit; but he’ll do it in such a way that you’re right where he wants you to effectively make the switch

• Make no mistake, he doesn’t mind subbing from time to time. He loves seeing you on top of him, using his body. He feels a sense of accomplishment being a vessel for your pleasure

• There was a tweet that explained how Raf would be a bit of a bully as a dom, but in the best way (recommended read)

• Chuckles and coos at you after each of your orgasms

• Isn’t into watersports, but gets a massive ego boost if you squ*rt

• Is sometimes overly arrogant about toys, but is also so obsessed with you, that he made you get molds of each other on the rare occasions you’re apart for too long

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓇼 ⋆｡˚ 𓆝⋆｡˚ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓇼 ⋆｡˚ 𓆝⋆｡˚

Sylus

SFW

• Has asked his private chef for a one on one culinary lesson to impress you with a home cooked meal

• A patron and secret lover of the arts. Dabbles in the opera, theatre and certain musicals

• He’s*slightly* better at drawing and singing than he lets on, but loves taking the piss

• This man is so funny, but his life and profession is all too serious, making the small moments of banter more precious for the both of you

• Will also hum to lull you to sleep

• Secret polyglot

• His way of ending petty arguments with you is by throwing you over his shoulder and going to bed

• Retail therapy connoisseur

• Surprisingly handy

• He of course, only likes visiting Linkon to see you, but also likes your apartment. While it’s microscopic in his eyes, he slowly understands what small things make a home feel cozy and tries to replicate that at his

• He’s intrigued by your self care sessions and will often indulge, joining in with the sheet masks, aromatherapy, massages and waxing (he likes the heat of the wax lol). He’ll put on a brave face and deny the pain, boasting about his high tolerance

• Spoils you in general, but especially when you’re sick or on your period

• Will carry you around just cause -much like a typical cat owner who loves to randomly pick up and cuddle their cat LOL

• Would buy out a restaurant for the night and have the orchestra play a medley of some of your favourite songs you’ve discovered from his record collection

• There’s really no such thing as small gestures with him

NSFW

• Marking

• Nipple play (giving and receiving)

• Blindfolds

• Certified munch; almost loves it more than penetrative sex

• AND HE 10000% HOLDS YOUR HANDS WHILE GOING DOWN ON YOU— WHY ISNT THIS WRITTEN MORE IN FICS

• Pleasure dom. He’s not sadistic or a bully when it comes to overstimulation (unlike Raf), he’s the very definition of “will talk you through it”

• Absolutely the type to coo at the sounds and faces you make. You could not look more adorable in his eyes

• Likes watching you solo

• Your satisfaction is his priority, so he’s not intimidated by toys. That being said, he definitely owns a remote vibrator

• Phone sex. No question

• In addition to phone sex, he bought those long distance bluetooth couple’s toys that sync up with each other so it’ll react to both of your movements in real time

• In the submissive, he really loves to see you in control of your own pleasure. He’ll encourage you to use him (eg face sitting, leg humping, cowgirl, etc)

• Slight masochist; those cuffs, paddles and chains are for him 😭 he’s curious to see how far you’ll go. By the end of it all, he’ll use his evol to free himself of whatever restraint he’s under

•As far as a degradation kink, I don’t see it for him, sorry. He adores you too much to call his sweetie a “slut”, “whore”, “filthy,” and so on

• Not as rough as he appears. Really the only time he’s rougher than he realises, is when he’s biting you

• If you want it more aggressive, you’ll have to ask. Even then, he’ll be cautious not to overdo it. The last thing he wants is to hurt you

• It’s canon he loves praise. Giving and receiving

𓆰· 𓆃 · 𓆩♡ 𓆰· 𓆃 · 𓆩♡ 𓆰· 𓆃 · 𓆩♡ 𓆰· 𓆃 · 𓆩♡

Xavier

SFW

• Low-key likes to carry you around and his fav way is by piggyback ride (loves being physically close to you and the way you cling to him)

• Will fast all day just for Hotpot or Brazilian steakhouse

• Is much better at baking than cooking

• Leaves you Post-it note love letters in places like mirrors, cabinets, and drawers, before he leaves after spending the night

• Unintentional comedian. He's sometimes taken aback by your laughter, but it only encourages him to keep talking just to hear it again

• He honestly loves sharing things with you; food, books, (his) hoodies, etc. He just doesn’t like sharing YOU

• Would plan a scavenger hunt date

• Is always playing coy because he knows it triggers your cuteness aggression

• The pettiest of petty when he's upset or threatened (look up his affinity lvl 140 video call)

• Sometimes stricter than Zayne when it comes to your health & recovery. He hates to see you over-exerting yourself after an injury and has scolded you before about taking it easy

• Loves to get ready for bed with you at the same time. Showering together, doing skincare together, brushing teeth together; whatever you’re doing he’s either tagging along or sitting there watching you

• When he’s spending the night, he can't fall asleep without you playing with his hair and holding hands

• Learned your favourite flower and has been secretly sneaking into Jeremiah’s greenhouse planting and tending to a small bush of them to gift to you whenever

NSFW

• Thigh job

• Mating press

• Morning sex, specifically morning head (f receiving)

• While going down on you, he def seems like the type to keep going after you’ve climaxed, but he slows down his movements, giving languid kisses to your center to help ride out the wave of pleasure vs intentional overstimulation (though he isn’t against that either)

• It seems that the consensus on here is that he's the best eater of the LIs? I don't necessarily disagree; I'm just not completely sure if that title goes to him quite yet

• The most primal and rough of the LIs. Hair pulling, choking (safely), spanking, leashes

• Also likes it when you’re rough with him

[I know I said I wasn’t confident making any hcs abt Caleb yet, but I have a slight hunch he rivals Xavier for most primal]

• Goes feral when you say his name

• This man is a dom, don’t let the puppy eyes and bunny ears fool you 💀

• He's not as noisy as he is talkative, especially during foreplay

• BOSSY

• I don’t put it past him to feel like he’s in competition with vibrators. He’d rather him use one on you, but knows he’s being irrational

• While he’s not really into feet, he’d suck toes during missionary to see how you’d react

✵ ✰ ✷ ✭ ✧ ✸ ✮ ✵ ✰ ✷ ✭ ✧ ✸ ✮ ✵ ✰ ✷ ✭ ✧ ✸

Zayne

SFW

• Alternatively to Sylus, this man is comprised of small gestures that snowball (hehe) over time. One more meaningful than the next

• While he respects and admires your independence, he needs you to need him. He’ll never vocalise it, but he feels most useful and accomplished when you ask for his help

• Won’t let you carry any bags when you’re out shopping, not even your purse

• Like Rafayel, he also has an album on his phone with pictures of mostly you. Though he feels odd taking your picture when you’re not looking, he’s snuck in a photo or two when you were looking particularly lively mingling with the people at his work event

• Knows your go-to orders at all of your fav restaurants by heart

• Stargazing dates. When either of you are out of town for a while and are catching up on the phone before bed, he’ll tell you to go outside and look at the moon

• After a long shift at work, he’ll kneel by your side of the couch waiting for you to embrace him, hugging and nuzzling your waist

• He also secretly loves being the little spoon

• Subscribed to a delivery service that sends you flowers on your birthday every year

• There’s something about Zayne that makes me think dogs absolutely LOVE him even though he’s not particularly fond of their energetic nature

• Spoils you rotten when you’re on your period. Full princess treatment; plushie heating pads, full body massages, raspberry tea, and hand feeding you snacks. Basically Dr Zayne turns into Nurse Zayne

• He’s more lenient with your cravings, letting you have a small portion of desserts or snacks only after you’ve finished your meal

• Loves your laugh but knows his dry wit won’t always work, so he’ll just tickle you if the joke doesn’t land

• Fell in love with you after the Drunken Intimacy card. It made him realise how much he likes holding you and tending to your needs

• Doesn’t even bother lecturing you about how bad high heels are for your joints and muscles anymore. He now keeps a pair of slippers in his car just in case you start to complain

• He can never resist the urge to kiss your cheek or forehead when he sees you’re fast asleep (Canon 🥹)

NSFW

• Has a weakness for lingerie, lace and stockings

• In the submissive, he’d be just like the kitty butler in his card -the goodest of good boys

• …Feet? I’m not sure if it’s anything freaky. Kudos to whoever clocked that for sub! Zayne months prior to the kitty butler quad banner

• Soft dom, but not as gentle as his voice lets on. He’s already a bit strict with you in your relationship, and he’s the same way in bed. How is he supposed to know what feels good if you don’t vocalise it?

• The only time he’s pretty rough with you is when you provoke him. But he checks in with you to make sure he isn’t being too hard

• Once he loses his control, he gets a tiny bit greedy too (“We’re not done here. Quitting halfway isn’t something I would do” —Silent Poem Secret Times)

• His methods of brat “taming” aren’t anything over the top or domineering. Though he enjoys spanking, he thinks there are better lessons he could teach you to combat your brattiness

• Has definitely gone down on you and stopped altogether right before you climax as a form of punishment

• Shibari + Hitachi -girl run!

• Ice play

• Nipple play (giving and receiving)

• The size of your chest doesn’t really matter to him, he just really likes to hold and massage them. It’s his favourite way to keep his hands warm

• This man is so good with his hands and in more ways than one. The placement and movement of his hands in the Nightly Rendezvous card sent me into orbit. The body worship he’d do is insane

• Needless to say he’s the best at fingering

• You’re irresistible to him. He breathes you into every kiss, deepening as your bodies continue to merge. There’s no sex without passion, even the “quickies”

• Quickies usually only happen when you’ve teased or provoked him too far during (or on your way to) an event. Otherwise, he likes taking his time with you

• He knows your body like the back of his hand. He’s memorised what triggers the sounds, faces, and jolts your body makes

• Much like Xavier, he loves to hear you cry out his name

❅ ❆ ❃ ❊ ❉ ❅ ❆ ❃ ❊ ❉ ❅ ❆ ❃ ❊ ❉ ❅ ❆ ❃ ❊ ❉ ❅ ❆

[shouyuus]

Hiii, I’m the person screaming crying throwing up every time you post, love ur stuff!

Anyway… I’m thinking mechanic!vi prolonging the time it takes her to fix your car just cause she wants you coming around the shop more and then when she does eventually fix it she kinda worries you’re not gonna stay over at hers as often but u decide to ask her if u can move in or smth like this?!?

Idek tbh my brain is so fried from over consuming Vi content

all you have to do is stay

mentions of sex, but no explicit scenes, car mechanic!vi au oh she absolutely would; there's actually so much stupid domestic bliss in this wow

and sure, the hookup was good in the beginning, but she liked it when you came around, liked it when you'd show up at her shop, all shy and wide-eyed, asking her if you could watch, and who's she to turn down such a pretty girl, right? and honestly, she thought it was kinda cute, how you'd try your best to ask her about this or that, and she'd find herself rambling about her favorite kinds of pinon brackets, or talking you through a chassis restoration for another vintage car that was brought in.

it shouldn't take a whole-ass month to rig a crossflow radiator, especially since the rest of your car's actually in pretty good condition, but she keeps on picking out other things to do, insisting that she's already here anyway, sliding out from under the car with a crooked grin, asking you to pass her another cold beer.

but there's only so many things she can make up before it's obvious, even to you that there's not much else to do. so when the day comes, she's quieter than usual, tallying up the extensive list of repairs that she's both done and made up for herself to do (you'd insisted that you at least pay for the major ones, and if the smaller ones came with a dinner-date and dessert in bed afterwards... well.)

"and... i think that's all of it, sweets."

she hands you the receipt, immediately tucking her hands into the pockets of her light-wash jeans. her shoulders shrug up as you look down the list. it's way less than that she should be charging you for, but you peer up at her, frowning at the pinch between her brows and the tension clear in her muscles.

"vi? what's... wrong?"

"ah -- it's nothin' sweets, don't worry your pretty little head over it."

she teeters forwards and back, as if she can't decide if she wants to move closer or back away. but you're already reaching for her, closing the distance between you with your head cocked, your eyes bright and questioning. and she could never resist it when you looked at her like that, so toe-curlingly trusting. as if there wasn't a thing in the world she could do or say to drive you away or upset you.

sometimes, she'd lay awake and wonder if you knew how dangerous that kind of trust is -- how someone less scrupulous would take it and twist it into something foul. but she'd never let that happen -- at least not while you wanted her around.

"violet... we might not have known each other for very long but... you're not a very good liar," you say, reaching up to cup her cheeks, coaxing her eyes back to yours. she laughs -- it's a tiny, helpless sound; it shakes her open in a way that startles even her, the way her whole body wants to fold over you, into you.

"geez, sweets... that's... that's not really fair of you."

she lifts her hand to press them over yours, hands over hands, petaled around her cheeks, and it occurs to her that perhaps this is what it means to live up to her namesake -- violet. you'd said it was a beautiful name the first the she told you what vi stood for.

"you're not really fair either, vi... but that's never stopped you, has it?" you ask, a mischievous glint in your eyes, your lips twisted up on a fox-hole smile.

vi sucks in a breath. something feels like it's clawing up the length of her ribcage and burrowing through the hollows in her chest till she can taste it pitter-pattering at the back of her throat. it takes her a full three seconds to realize that it's her own traitorous heart, beating so strong she can taste it on her tongue.

"fuck."

and then she's kissing you, pulling you to her, fingers harsh and desperate, her touch lingering like month-old grease-stains the way they dig into your delicate skin. you gasp open for her, against her -- you let her tug you into her till there isn't a part of you she can't reach if she wanted to.

the kiss breaks like a dam bursting open, and a few seconds later, she's got you hoisted up on her workbench, wrenches and old receipts scattering to the floor as she slots herself easily between your legs. it's a familiar place to be, after all -- after all this time.

you hiss, fingers fisting in her hair; it's longer now, than when you first met. and she'd be lying if she said her letting it grow had nothing to do with your offhand comment once (over yet another impossible banana sundae) that you liked it long.

"vi -- vi -- please -- you --"

"hm? what is it, pretty girl?"

"you c-can't just try to distract me w-with sex every time --"

and she can't help the grin that hitches over her lips at the way your chest is heaving, your eyes blown dark, the way your thighs shake on either side of her hips. but she can see the flicker of worry in your eyes and her stomach twists with uncertainty.

"i -- i don't --" she tries, but a breath puffs out of her and she sags against you, "it's... just... now that the repairs are done... there's not really much reason for you to come around... and..."

at her words, you heave a sigh that seems much too big and weary for your body, pulling back to fix her with a surprisingly sharp look.

"you really thought i was coming around here to listen to you talk about my car repairs?"

vi does her level best not to pout; hearing you say it out loud, it does sound... a bit childish. instead, she leans forward and digs her nose into your neck, wrapping both arms around you till she's got you cocooned in her chest.

"what? you weren't interested in the new pressure washer i got just so i could get that really stubborn stain off your back bumper?"

you trail your fingers through her hair, letting your nails graze along her scalp. a shiver washes down the length of her back and you giggle close to her ear.

"sure i did... but you could talk about... dunno... your favorite dish rag, and i think i'd still wanna listen -- because i like listening to you talk about the stuff you like... because..." and its your turn to hesitate, her turn to pull back and fix you with a look -- one that's equal parts pleading and disbelieving.

"because what, pretty girl?" she asks, her voice low and husky, a thumb running across the round of your cheek.

"b-because i -- i like you, vi."

your eyes flicker away and color seeps into your cheeks like dye across clear water -- the shade blooming into you till vi's sure there's no color so beautiful as the one that you are now.

"mm... well, thank god for that cause..." she leans in to press her forehead to yours, "i was starting to wonder, what with all the multiple orgasms and midnight munch sessions and --" she laughs as you squawk indignantly at her, your eyes flashing wild and wide.

"t-that's not what i -- you know that's not --"

"oh? so you don't like those?" she asks, the tease now so obvious in her voice that you flush several shades darker. vi thinks she may have to amend her previous decision on her favorite shade of you. and you're outdoing yourself today.

she lets her free hand wander to the bend of your hips and she gives you a squeeze.

"i --" you steady yourself in the solidness of her, reaching down to lace your hands with hers, "of course i -- i like those things too but i -- i like that you're the one doing them to me and --" you swallow; vi tries not to be to distracted by the hummingbird flutter of your pulse as you struggle to find the words, even though both of you know full well by now exactly what you're trying to say --

sometimes, just sometimes, words speak just as loud as words need to. and the actions are just there to back them up.

sometimes, there are certain things that people just want to -- or need to -- hear said out loud.

"i -- i wanna come over even when there's nothing for you to fix... i..." you steady your breathing and vi nearly drowns in the certainty that settles between the pair of you, an ocean full of of unsaid words (the ones that don't need to be said to be understood), drifting like sunlight over shifting waves -- their brightness made no less real by their shimmering reflections in the water, "i guess i just... wanna be wherever you are. like... all the time."

vi's eyebrows hitch; her breath follows shortly after.

"all the time?"

you bite down on your lips, "yeah but... i know it's only been like... a month or whatever --"

"no, no god -- sweets, i -- i want that too -- more than anything -- it's just --" she motions at the shop, and you nod, catching her hand in yours mid-air.

"it doesn't have to be right now," you say, smiling and giving both her hands a firm squeeze.

"yeah?" she asks, a rare quiver to the shape of her voice.

you nod, "yeah." and your voice is just as solid as she needs it to be. you lean in to kiss her, and she sighs open against you, as you've done so many times for her.

"we'll -- we'll make it work," you say, in between harsh, nipping kisses, even as vi groans and trails her mouth along the line of your jaw. you gasp, letting your head tip back, "w-we'll t-take it s-s-slow -- mmngh -- vi!"

vi hums as she sucks a dark hickey into the side of your neck, feeling savage wanting plume open in her chest. she looks back up at you with darkening eyes and a hunter's smile.

"dunno if i know how to take it slow, sweets --"

"w-what about all those t-times you told me t-to wait --" you keen high in the back of your throat as she drops to pillow her cheek to your thigh, flipping up the bottom of your skirt to dig her nose into the damp triangle of your panties.

vi scoffs, rolling her eyes as she glances back up at you with a playful smirk.

"oh fuck you."

you lick your lips, reaching down to sink your fingers into her hair again, pulling just hard enough for the an ache to gather in her belly.

"thought that's what you were trying to do."

vi stands up, pulling you bodily forward till your ankles are linked at the small of her back, her palms holding up the plush of your ass as she walks the pair of you back into the house and up the thin flight of stairs to her room.

it's a good few hours before either of you are coherent enough to talk about any of this again, but by the time you are, the twilight is budding along the far horizon, and vander's texting to ask vi if he should pick anything up on the way back from the bar for dinner.

"you wanna stay for dinner?" vi asks, twisting to glance at you in bed, her face illuminated by the digital blue of her phone.

your pillow your cheek on your hand, "yeah, i'd love to."

"cool, what do you want?" she asks, her eyes turning back to her phone.

you lick your lips, "how about... you ask vander to pick up some tomatoes? i can make one of my grandma's old soup recipes. you have potatoes and cabbage right? and... i think i saw some pork bones in the freezer the last time i was here."

you cast your eyes up at the ceiling, ticking through a mental list of ingredients.

you only turn to shoot vi a glance when you realize that you can no longer hear the rapid pik-pik-pik of her fingers on her phone.

she's staring at you with what could only be called wonder in the halfway dark.

"you... remember what's in our fridge?"

"well i -- there's not much in there --" you say, almost indignantly.

she laughs, shaking her head, "no, it's just -- i didn't think you'd ever notice something like that, i mean, pardon me for thinking that you've never set foot in a kitchen in your entire life, what with you being daddy's little princess and all," she goads, nudging you with an elbow even as you squirm away from her, pouting.

"i'll have you know that i'm actually a really good cook, okay?" you tell her, "when -- when i was little, and my grandma lived with us, i'd help her in the kitchen all the time. and... after she got too old to make stuff... i was the one who cooked for her, because she said it tasted like stuff she'd eat in her childhood so..."

vi shuffles closer to you under the blankets, nuzzling her nose into your cheek.

"and just when i thought you couldn't get more perfect," she murmurs, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

you giggle, allowing yourself to be tugged back into her chest.

"i told vander to pick up tomatoes... and to invite silco and everyone else he can round up over for dinner."

you squeak, shooting up, "what?!"

vi grins, pushing up with a soft yawn, "you can't just tell me that you've got grandma-level cooking skills and not expect me to invite my whole entire family, right?"

you tumble out of bed, nearly tripping over your panties, still caught around your ankles. you pull them up, scrambling for one of vi's big shirts to toss over your body as she watches you from the bed with an indulgent smile before swinging her legs off and standing up to pull you back into her chest.

"calm down, sweets -- i'll help you, kay? now, tell me what you need."

you nod, pulling on a pair of her jogging shorts and twisting your hair into a haphazard bun out of your face as you start listing off ingredients, hopping the last two steps onto the first floor landing and fluttering into the kitchen.

by the time vi rounds the doorway, it's to find you with vander's massive apron already tied around your waist, an several pots and pans stacked on the countertop.

"i need three onions, and a head of garlic and... a few bay leaves, if you have them. it's okay if you don't --"

vi fights back a grin (it's a losing battle, she thinks, but it's one that she's considering losing for the rest of her goddamn life if it meant doing this every day with you).

"sure, sweets -- whatever you need."

you nod, rolling up the sleeves of your shirt as you set to work peeling the potatoes. a few second later, vi pops up from the fridge, frowning.

"looks like we've only got one onion, but i found some shallots... not sure how good they are though... they were kinda shoved into the back." she holds up the bag with a grimace.

you blink at her, and for a moment, vi thinks that you're going to be angry, or at least a bit frustrated. but then, your face breaks into a sweet, helpless sort of smile, and you reach out to take the shallots from her.

"it's okay," you say, in a voice that sounds just a little too much like coming home, and vi has to swallow passed the peach-pit suddenly caught in her throat.

your fingers brush against hers as you point her towards the half-peeled potatoes, and she gets to work without you even having to ask.

you lean up onto your tiptoes and press a kiss to her cheek, your eyes bright as fallen stars when she turns to look at you.

"it's okay," you repeat, smiling up at her with that smile that just might rhyme with forever, "we'll make it work, okay?"

vi licks her lips; there's an entire ocean of saltwater words caught behind the tombstones of her teeth that she does not know how to say. but she thinks, as she looks at you and you turn back to fussing over the one onion and handful of shallots, that you probably know it all anyway.

"okay," she says, before turning back to the diligent work of peeling the potatoes.

[finelinevogue]

Hi I just read your work bigger than all of them and I loved it sm!! Wondered abt a follow up fic where one of the girls let’s slip that they talked abt it to the boys and Cass and Rhys are like upset that Az is the biggest maybe? Idk just thought it would be funny ❤️❤️

this is so funny yess of course!!! this is only short but… hope it’s worth it!! tysm for reading <33

word count - >500

pairing - azriel x mate!reader

[ part 1 here ]

It was family dinner night.

Everyone together for a lovely meal, cooked by Elain and Mor since they were the best chefs the family had to offer. Cassian would pretend he chipped in, but realistically he only licked the pudding bowl after it had been finished with.

“Pass me the sauce please, Az.” Rhys asked, holding an arm out for his brother to pass him the sauce pot.

“Feyre are you seriously ogling Rhys’ arms at the dinner table?” Amren snorted.

“They’re right in front of me what do you expect?” Feyre blushed and everyone laughed at how easy it was to wind her up.

“We know what to expect, don’t we little miss High Lady.” Mor raised her eyebrows, which caused Feyre to go all shy and dip her head into Rhys’ body for protection.

“Did we miss something?”

Cassian, the ever oblivious male, asked.

“You certainly did.” Nesta smirked.

Each of you girls began to catch each other’s eyes from around the room, trying your best not to snicker or expose yourselves.

Mor looked at you and held her hands up in front of her, palm facing palm. She slowly dragged them from a centimetre apart to about nine inches.

Your breath hitched as you remembered what she was implying - how her actions related to the other night - and now it was your turn to blush.

“Oh..” You sighed awkwardly.

“What?” Azriel asked from beside you.

“Nothing, nothing.” You smiled, using your face to stuff a potato in your mouth so you wouldn’t have to answer any more questions.

Curse Azriel to be so perceptive though.

He looked over to Mor, who was still holding up her hands the exact same way. She held eye contact with Azriel and then switched to looking at the gap between her hands, before looking back at him with an impressed look on her face.

If it weren’t for the well-known fact that Mor’s mind was constantly horny then he wouldn’t have a clue what she was doing. But because of that fact, plus Azriel being so clever, he put it all together.

Azriel coughed subtly, before taking his hands away from his cutlery and holding out his own hands. He held them slightly further apart than Mor’s.

“It’s actually more like this.”

Mor’s jaw went slack.

She could not believe that quiet, shy-boy, Azriel had just said what he said and did what he did.

You watched the whole thing and sunk further down into your chair.

“Please stop.” You mumbled.

The girls started squealing again, meaning that they’d seen the little dramatic too. You’d been too busy focusing on Azriel and his hands to notice though.

It was his fault he was too distracting. You often told him his beauty would one day get him in trouble.

“That’s….” Feyre gawked.

“Big!”

“Huge!”

“Oh Mother above… Y/N how are you still alive?”

A flurry of comments from the girls made you go cherry red. This was worse than the wine evening itself. Now under the spotlight of your mate too, it only increased the embarrassing situation tenfold.

Cassian stopped eating for a minute to find that Rhys looked very unimpressed by his giggling mate. Nesta and Elain were fanning themselves like they were in heat. Mor looked like she was majorly impressed by something. You looked like you wanted the Mother to swallow you whole and Azriel… well he looked like a the cockiest Illyrian he had ever seen.

“Wait?! Did I miss something again?”

[rissouu]

I KNOW IM YOUR FAVORITE, gojo satoru ཐི♡ཋྀ

ᖭི༏ᖫྀ in which: he may be your ex, but that doesn’t mean you can just move on.

ᖭི༏ᖫྀ wc: 2.9k words.

ᖭི༏ᖫྀ warnings: lots of angst, dark content (not really), sexual content, pussy!drunk gojo, stalker!gojo, heavy possessiveness, mentions of violence, pet names, daddy kink, heavy breeding kink, baby trapping (but y/n wants it), gojo sucks ur feet for literally 1 second, yandere gojo (ehh), cunnilingus, overstimulation, toxic!gojo (barely), ex!gojo, and etc.

ᖭི༏ᖫྀ notes: okay look this shit is very freaky, and it’s loosely based on the song hold me down by daniel caesar! and gojo is a stalker y’all, this is your only warning babes.. please leave now if you’re uncomfy! he is kinda crazy in this but in a lovingly way.. y’know? not proofread either so not too much on me!

when you walked into your apartment you couldn’t help the exaggerated giggles you let out. it was embarrassing actually, acting like a school girl in junior high all over again. the reason for your happiness was pretty simple— you just had your first date.

your first date since you broke up with your ex, gojo.

that was about a year ago now.. a year since you and the love of your life parted ways. up until recently you’ve never had the guts to put yourself out there again, always scared that one day you’ll just end up hurt again.

but your whole view on dating changed when you met this guy at a grocery store. he offered to pay for your entire cart, and it was well over $300 worth. you found the gesture sweet, and from there you two exchanged numbers.

he was no gojo of course, but you had to move on at some point. it’s already been a year, if gojo didn’t reach out yet, then maybe that meant he’d moved on too.

well.. so you thought.

you were so caught up in the excitement from how well your date went, you barely even realized you were still in pitch black.

“fuck i got so distracted i forgot to turn the lights on.” you chuckled to yourself, flipping the light switch on and hanging your purse on the door.

you didn’t know why but you had a feeling you weren’t alone, like someone was watching you— or better yet breathing right down your neck.

the house was eerily quiet, so quiet you could hear the drop of a pen. but something felt off about your apartment, and you were never one to ignore your instincts.

just as you were about to retreat and run out the door, a familiar voice had you stopping in your tracks.

no. fucking. way.

“where were you?” the achingly familiar man smiled, trying his best to hide the dangerous aura oozing from his body. he knew exactly where you were, and always have. you didn’t know it yet— but he’d been watching you for a while now. ever since you dumped him which was more than a year ago now.

technically it was stalking.. but he didn’t like to call it that. in his mind, he was more of a guardian angel— just making sure you’re okay and still breathing.

how else would he check on you since you blocked him on everything else?

the white haired man was sitting on your couch with his head tilted— clearly waiting for an answer although he already knew where you were to begin with. it was pretty easy to keep tabs on you.

you stared at him, a small frown forming across your face. you were feeling weak in the knees. the first thing you wanted to do was jump on him and tell him how much you missed him.

but you knew you couldn’t do that, not anymore. the two of you just didn’t go together, or at least that’s how you felt a year ago. you couldn’t get back with him, you wouldn’t. no matter how much it hurt.. it was better than dealing with his unstability.

“what are you doing in my house, gojo?” you folded your arms— staring back at him with the same expression he was giving you. that’s what he loved about you, you weren’t easy.

with the blink of an eye, he was up from the couch and coming closer towards you. the man easily towered over you so to say he was intimidating was an understatement.

instead of answering your question he just stared at you with a blank expression— and you did the same exact thing. this was common with you two, just staring at each other in silence until one of you dared to speak up.

about five minutes later, gojo finally cracked. you silently praised yourself for being able to last longer than him.

with a low chuckle, he shook his head— slightly licking over his lips. “i think im the one asking the questions here, hm? so answer me.”

you scoffed at his arrogance, seems like some things just never change. “i was on a date if you must know, now get the hell out of my house.”

as soon as you got your words out he couldn’t help but to laugh. honestly, gojo didn’t even know what was so funny, maybe it was the way you said it.. you really thought you held some type of authority?

“and now you’re laughing at me? what’s so funny?”

that only made him laugh more, truth be told gojo wasn’t even trying to laugh, but you trying to be somewhat “mean” was taking him out because you were nothing like that.

you were one of the kindest people he’d ever met, so this little act you had on was amusing to him.

“shit, im sorry!” he clutched his stomach, letting one last chuckle out before continuing. “it’s just.. you really think im falling for this little act of yours?”

your face was quick to scrunch up— finding every bit of his words disrespectful. but it was gojo, so what could you really expect? his bluntness would probably be the death of him.

“excuse me? need i remind you, we are not together anymore gojo!” your voice came out a lot shakier than you’d hoped for it to. what the hell was going on with you?

“well clearly i know that, or else i’d go and kill that fucker you were out with tonight.”

throwing your hands in the air you muttered a strand of curse words, it’s impossible to get through to someone as hard-headed as him. “please just see yourself out.”

before he could respond, you walked off toward your room. you didn’t have the energy to deal with him or his childish antics, he’d already managed to ruin your entire mood. all this did was remind you why you keep your heart locked away— because of arrogant assholes like him.

“there’s no need to be rude, y’know? i just wanna talk to my favorite girl.” gojo followed you to your room— just like you knew he would. god, he’s so annoying.

it looked the exact same as the last time he was here except for the empty wall where the pictures of him used to hang. he’d be lying if he said it didn’t make his chest heavy, and heart pang in sorrow. could you really have been done with him for good this time?

“whatever, just don’t get on my bed.. i don’t know where you’ve been.”

‘stalking you’ he chuckled to himself before completely disregarding your request, and plopping down on your bed anyways.

you decided not to scold him for doing exactly what you said not to do. that’s just who gojo was, no one could boss a man like him around.

you weren’t even being serious either. in hindsight, you really did enjoy having him around. as much as you hated to admit it.. it reminded you of the old times, when it was just you and him against the whole world.

“i missed you, y’know? you just up and left without a word.. and next thing i know im blocked.” even though he tried to hide it you could hear the pain in his voice. losing you was like losing a piece of him too, he couldn’t stand it. he couldn’t stand the way you made him feel.

the only reason the man was able to keep it together was because he was watching you, ensuring you weren’t completely out of his life.

it sounded crazy. hell— it was crazy, but when it came to you he’d do anything.

“i know.. & im sorry for the way i handled that. i just felt like we needed to move on, try new things…”

“i don’t want to try new things!” he scowled, quickly sitting up from the bed to face you. “i want you.. just you. that’s all i’ve ever wanted.”

the air was thick, and the room felt like it was caving in. your body was practically on fire listening to him say the words you’d been craving to hear.

“and about that date of yours..” he cooed, running his hands up your thighs and slowly spreading them. “we won’t be worrying about him anymore, will we?”

that little date was never a threat to gojo to begin with. both you and him knew that, but he took manners into his own hands just to mark his territory.

gojo made sure to corner the poor guy as soon as your date was over, and needless to say.. a few threats were all it took. you should be happy he didn’t do worse, it ran across his mind to kill the poor guy at first.

“i..if we do this then no more bullshit okay?” your soft hands gripped his chin as you forced his beautiful blue eyes to meet yours. “none of that childish stuff this time. we’re both grown so we need to act like it, we’ve had a whole year to fix ourselves.”

every time the two of you got back together it turned into complete chaos. gojo wasn’t the best man out there, and you weren’t the best woman. both of you had your own flaws regardless, but you two needed each other.

that was well established the first 10 times you guys broke up, and unsurprisingly you always ended up back in each other’s skin.

gojo’s gaze on you was heavy, almost as if he was trying to study your every breath and blink. all of the dumb, childish expressions on his face from before were far gone.

“yes princess, whatever you want.” he softly spoke as he sunk his head into the skin of your stomach, littering you with soft kisses. “i’ll do whatever you want..”

gojo spoke so gently— his voice softer than ever as he pushed you on your back, wrapping your legs around his shoulders.

you stared at him intently, waiting to see what he would do next. one thing about gojo was he always had something up his sleeve, and part of you knew where this was headed.

when his rough hands gripped the waistband of your flimsy skirt, you didn’t complain. actually you found yourself wanting more, longing for more.

“y’gonna let me get a taste baby? missed her s’much,” soft lips trailed up your thigh— leaving small bite imprints on the flesh. this was his way of staking his claim on you, marking you as his and only his.

you couldn’t stop the shaky sigh that fell from your lips, or the silent nod you gave to your ex-boyfriend for him to continue.

the grin that spread across his face was taunting almost, and intimidating. when that skirt of yours was out of the way, gojo moved on to the black-lace panties. his personal favorite.

“so what, you wearin’ these for other people now?” the fucking nerve of you, he couldn’t believe this. to stoop that low.. well that just won’t do. it seems like he had a few things to correct now that he was back. “fuckin’ answer me. be a good girl for me, yeah?”

your eyes locked with his and all you saw was silent fury, you could tell he was pissed. “not wearing them for anybody toru. just didn’t have any clean ones,”

a lazy grin covered his face at the remembrance of his old nickname, the way it fell from your lips so softly always managed to send heat straight to his dick.

he finally got his girl back.

faint kisses to your cunt had your legs shaking in anticipation— and the soft gasp that left your lips did nothing but egg gojo on as his tongue met your aching clit.

“pussy’s still fuckin’ pretty as ever,” with a low voice his eyes were closed shut, in hopes to savor every last bit of you. when his hands came up to your thighs he couldn’t resist the urge to spread them even further.

the man wanted to explore every inch of you since it’s been so long. so so long since he’s spent some personal time with that pretty pussy of yours.

“w..wait- fuck toru!” you whined when his lips found their way to your pulsing clit, folding his tongue up and down the gooey slit.

his assault to your pussy didn’t stop there. next his thumb was sliding down your sticky folds, not stopping until it was past your tight walls.

your mouth fell open at the intrusion. his thumb wasn’t long but it was thick, causing a bigger stretch than you’d expected.

“so good. taste’s s’good princess,” gojo mindlessly babbled, every word sending vibrations straight to your pussy.

gojo felt like he was out of his body. out of his mind, and he hadn’t even been inside you yet. just what the fuck were you doing to him?

finally fed up with the throbbing ache in his pants he latched onto your clit for a third time, giving it one last kiss before pulling away.

the man couldn’t wait any longer— he needed to be inside you, and he needed it now. before you knew it he was sliding off his sweats and everything underneath it, leaving him completely exposed.

your pussy throbbed just from the sight of him.. you didn’t know how much longer you could wait either.

“don’t worry mama, im ready for ya’.” a low chuckle left his throat when he saw you were just as desperate as him. “you ready for me?”

his blue eyes met your low ones when he slapped his tip against your folds. next he was sliding inside of your pulsing hole with ease, forcing your mouth open.

“o..oh my gosh!“ you winced at the familiar stretch, your walls involuntarily clenched around his dick— trying to push him out.

“n..no- fuck. none of that, y’hear me?” gojo whimpered at the feel of being squeezed, he couldn’t even move you were squeezing him so tight.

the man hovered over you, lips grazing your ear as he coaxed you. “let me in baby, you can do it. i know you can,” he whispered, wrapping his hand around your neck and resting it there.

his words of encouragement had you opening up quicker than he expected, and with every second he was inching deeper into your pussy. gojo felt like he was in a dream— or better yet, on cloud 9. after all that time you still feel the exact same, heavenly.

his strokes were gentle at first, but they sped up when he realized how long he was away from you. a whole year.. never again.

“n..never ever gonna let you keep this shit from me again.” gojo groaned with an edge in his voice that you couldn’t recognize.

your shaky hands wasted no time sliding under his shirt, feeling on the happy trail that covered his v-line. “not gonna take it away toru, ‘s all yours!”

gojo grinned at your words as he pressed onto your lower stomach. with his free hand he gripped onto the back of your thighs and brung your freshly done feet up to his mouth.

his lips wrapped around your toe— eyes locking with yours as he sucked on it. his strokes only got deeper, and you whimpered at all the different sensations at once.

“‘m not gonna pull out,” he admitted as he switched from sucking to leaving small kisses on your foot. “gonna cum so deep in this pretty pussy. never gonna leave me again.”

you were so out of it. drool everywhere, hair messy, tear stained cheeks.. anything gojo said went in one ear and out the other. the man could do whatever, you didn’t care.

“mm yes, don’t pull out. want it s’bad, fill me up please!” small whines filled your throat when you felt a familiar pressure in your abdomen, your pussy wrapping around him even tighter than before. how was this even possible?

gojo’s pace got faster, strokes sloppier.. he was slowly but surely losing all the sense of control he once had before. “f..fuckk ‘m gonna cum toru, so close!”

you gasped when his thumb flicked your clit, looking up at the blue eyes that never left your frame. your legs shook in overstimulation and you didn’t know how much longer you could hold it in.

“let it out mama, you’re okay. gimme all of it- shit.” he hissed as his dick twitched at how tight you were squeezing. “fuck fuck fuck, you’re gonna be such a pretty mama. s..such a pretty wifey, all f’me.”

you threw your head back as chills covered your entire body. the both of you were completely out of touch with reality, not caring about anything but the feeling of one another.

“‘m cumming toru! mhmm ‘m cumming,” you exclaimed, bringing your hand to his stomach. it wasn’t long before the built-up pit in your stomach finally snapped, coating his dick in a ring of your juices.

gojo was close behind you, a whimpering mess as his stomach tightened. before he knew it he was filling you up— spilling his load inside of you, not a drop to be wasted.

“f..fuck yeah. take it mama, it’s all yours. all for you.. gotta give you everything.” he chanted praises as he gave you one last stroke, pushing his cum even deeper into you where it belonged.

your voice was shaky when he called you, so shaky that at first you thought you wouldn’t be able to respond. but even so, you did.

“you’re never leaving me again, understand?” the edge in his voice was back, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t make your stomach do flips.

“yes toru, i understand.”

if there’s anything you learned from this at all.. it’s that you could never leave a man like gojo satoru.

©rissouu 2025 (this one’s for dulce y’all so thank her, it took me forever *sigh*)

[yurinaa-world]

2# —"𝓝𝓸 𝓜𝓸𝓻𝓮!"

💫𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈: Anaxa, Mydai, & Phainon x Gender-Neutral reader

💫𝒮𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: giving and receiving so many kisses

💫𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: Fluff, & Spelling Mistakes

💫Part one: 💫“𝒩𝑜 𝓂𝑜𝓇𝑒!” (with Gallagher, Sunday, Aventurine, & Boothill)

💫𝒜𝓃𝒶𝓍𝒶 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝒸𝒽𝑜𝓁𝒶𝓇 𝑜𝒻 𝒜𝓂𝓅𝒽𝑜𝓇𝑒𝓊𝓈"

He wants to feel you, every part. Evening going as far as to have you like this: your body straddling on top of his lap, his arms around your waist holding you in place—and even pressing your bodies.

His face was right in front of your neck. They can’t resist himself from utterly smothering you—which is exactly what he’s doing in this movement. His lips land on your neck, and in some places, he gently taunts you with the sharp ends of his teeth with warm breath ringing your neck—making you shiver and gasp.

“Anaxa…” you gasp his name.

"Say it again," he murmurs his voice a low, velvety growl that sends a shiver down your spine. His hands trail slowly up your back, the roughness of his fingertips against your skin igniting sparks with every touch. His lips pressed heated kisses along your collarbone, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. 

“Say my name again…”

Your hands find their way to his shoulders, clutching at the fabric of his shirt, staring down to meet his eye.

 “Anaxa…”

You’ll actually be the death of him

💫𝑀𝓎𝒹𝑒𝒾 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝑒𝒾𝓇 𝓉𝑜 𝒜𝓂𝓅𝒽𝑜𝓇𝑒𝓊𝓈"

“You seem to be enjoying yourself, maybe even indulging too much.” 

Teasing Mydei was what you loved to do especially relating to indulging him with your love—which was constantly kissing him till he couldn’t think—but if you actually thought it would work, you are sadly mistaken.

Mydei’s lips curl into a sly grin, his amber eyes glinting with amusement as he leans closer, his face mere inches from yours while his arm around your waist pulls you right against him. "Oh, is that what you think?" he murmurs, his voice a smooth, velvety caress that sends a shiver through you. "If anyone’s indulging, it’s you. You can't seem to stop, can you?"

"And what if I don’t want to stop?" you counter, your voice steady, though your heart is racing. A smirk plays on your lips, daring him to make the next move. You press a little closer, your fingers tracing the line of his smile. "Then you’d better be prepared for the consequences," he says, his tone dropping to a low, teasing rumble. His arm tightens around your waist, holding you firmly in place as if to prove his point.

"How cruel, I just want to show my love and here you are threatening me," you whine, feigning innocence as your fingers slip into his hair.

Mydei's grin deepens in response to your comments, a sharp gleam in his eyes melting. He moves in even closer, his forehead almost brushing against yours, his breath warm on your lips. "Cruel?" he says, his tone low and playful. "If this is cruelty, then maybe I'm spoiling you far too much."

You scoff. "Are you going to spoil me? That's rich coming from the one who won't let me go," you respond, your fingertips playing with the tips of his hair

"And why would I let go?" he asks, his tone dangerously—he's about to eat you alive. 

"You keep walking into these traps, teasing me like this. I'm simply giving you exactly what you deserve."

💫𝒫𝒽𝒶𝒾𝓃𝑜𝓃 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝓃𝒶𝓂𝑒𝓁𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑜 𝑜𝒻 𝒜𝓂𝓅𝒽𝑜𝓇𝑒𝓊𝓈"

 Phanion is a sly one. 

He’s got quick hands, slipping himself through your defences and leaving you with an agape mouth—He finds it quite adorable whenever he takes something from you, watching your hands touch and eyes skim around your body to see what is missing. When you did find what was missing you would immediately start complaining as he held the thing in his hand high, teasingly.

Maybe he likes this even better than the causal swiping he does.

Your face lies red as you gaze up at him with that cute face while he takes advantage of you even more—his lips land on each part of your face, You're so cute! Honestly, those feelings that adults get when they see a child and they just want to smother them with love are the same type of love he feels for you now.

He feels and sees you break beneath him, creasing your cheek with a thump, before leaning in to kiss on the lips. Even when you try to push him away from embarrassment he gently moves your hand to the side before planting another kiss place on your face with his lips.

“Don’t be like that, let me love you till you can’t think anymore.” Giggling even more so when you just shatter into little pieces.

“Don’t worry,” he whispered, his tone softer now, almost reverent. “I’ll take care of you, even if it means stealing every bit of composure you have.”

[nick-writes-stuff]

Various Squid Game Characters x injured gn!reader

(Includes Gi-hun, In-ho/Young-il, Thanos, and Dae-ho)

!warnings: canon-typical violence, use of Y/N, cursing, in Dae-ho's specifically it is kinda implied that reader was using the women's bathroom but it doesn't say anything about the actual gender of the reader

a/n: this is most likely noncompliant to the canon, but it's fine. i might do another part with different characters later, but for now, i wanted to get this out asap. hope you enjoy!

Gi-hun:

- Winners don't get hurt, right? That's what you thought, but here you were trudging back to the dorms with a gunshot wound. A bullet must have ricocheted off the pavement because something grazed your side.

- You were one of the last ones to complete your game of marbles, so you walked back to the dorm alone.

- When you entered the room, he could tell there was something wrong, but he assumed it was shock from the cutthroat nature of the game. He'd been through it before, and he was still shaken to his core.

- You walked over to the area your group had claimed for themselves. You sat on the ground, arms wrapped around yourself. It looked like you were hugging yourself, a common self-soothing practice, but it was really just a way to put pressure on the wound covertly.

- He noticed how quiet you were being even after the remaining members had started chatting.

- "Y/N, I'm glad you made it out of there." He said. He watched your reaction closely.

- You nodded, murmuring a soft "Thanks, you too."

- He continued to watch you, concern growing with each passing moment. You started to grow pale as you sat there. Your breathing was labored despite your attempt to hide it.

- "Hey, are you okay?" He asked. It was a stupid question, and he knew it. How could you be okay here? Especially after a game like marbles.

- He didn't expect you to shake your head. You looked like you were going to cry. He moved closer to you, blocking the view of the others in an attempt to provide some level of privacy.

- "What's wrong?" You tried to speak but you couldn't get the words out. "Hey, what happened?" He asked. He lowered his voice, but you could hear his tone become more frantic.

- You wordlessly pulled your hand away from your wound, showing him the crimson staining it and your clothes.

- You noticed his gaze become distant. He looked at you and saw Sae-byeok, and you knew exactly what was happening. He hadn't told you about her specifically, but he had mentioned a close friend being injured. You hated bringing back those memories for him.

- You started crying, sputtering out a string of apologies. "I'm sorry. S-sorry. I didn't mean to. I didn't-"

- That made him snap back to reality. He cut you off. "No, no, it's not your fault. You're gonna be okay." He said quickly. He helped you lay back so he could get a better look at it.

- "Guys, we need some help over here." He said, keeping his voice low. It got their attention regardless.

- "Can one of you get me one of the bedsheets?" Gi-hun asked, to which Jung-bae rushed to get. Jun-hee passed over an unopened water bottle. "Here! I didn't drink it with lunch so I could save it for later." She said.

- Dae-ho took the request for help in a different way. "Hello?! Can we get a doctor in here!? Someone's-"

- "Dae-ho, stop it!" He snapped. The man's face changed to a look of shock. "They won't come. Trust me." He said softer. Dae-ho muttered a soft, "Sorry."

- You continued to cry, trying to keep yourself quiet. "I'm gonna need to pull this up, okay?" he asked, fingers grabbing the fabric of your shirt. You nodded, grimacing as he peeled the fabric off the wound.

"Y/N.... what happened?" He asked. Jung-bae and Jun-hee were folding the bedsheet to make it manageable to wrap around you.

- "I-I think a bullet ricocheted or something. I don't know. I'm sorry." You stammered, flinching at the cold feeling of the water as he poured some onto it. It wasn't nearly as bad as he thought, but it certainly wasn't pleasant.

- He bandaged you up the best he could with the supplies on hand. Once he was done, you sat up with a wince. "Careful." He warned, but you could hear his playful tone returning to him.

- You leaned into him, head resting on his shoulder. "Thank you. All of you." You you said softly, looking over to your other allies. Gi-hun smiled softly. "Get some rest, okay? I'll keep watch." He said, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

- Be prepared to hardly leave his sight for the rest of the games. He swears to protect you no matter what. Even when more selfish players would suggest he leave you behind. And they did suggest it, resulting in him lashing out at them. That was clearly a sore spot, as their words reminded him of Sang-woo.

- That night, he had a nightmare about the last night in his first game. The events played out as normal, but with you in the place of Sae-byeok. It was harrowing, to say the least. He may have failed her, but he will do anything to make sure you made it out of here.

- He woke up with a start, breathing faster than usual. You were in the bed pushed closer to his. You turned toward him slowly. "What's going on?" You asked in a hushed whisper.

- "It's nothing, go back to sleep." He responded. You knew better, but you didn't press him any further. However, you did carefully roll toward him, resting your head on his chest.

- He was going to scold you for moving too much, but you quickly returned to sleep. He just smiled like a lovesick fool and got some much-needed sleep.

In-ho/Young-il

(calling him young-il for clarity's sake)

- It all happened very quickly. Mingle was the most chaotic game yet. After the first two rounds, you quickly grew overwhelmed. The spinning platform didn't make the situation any better. You were getting a bit disoriented, but you were able to mask it fairly well.

- When the voice called out six, your group devised your plan to split up. When you had your plan, you ran to follow Young-il toward a room. As you stepped off the platform, your ankle twisted in a way it definitely wasn't supposed to.

- You fell to the ground, yelling out an expletive as your body hit the ground. Young-il turned around instantly, and upon seeing you, he told the group to run ahead and claim a room.

- He moved closer to you. "What happened?" He asked, his voice loud to cut through the chaos. He offered you a hand to help you up.

- You took his hand, pulling yourself up. You groaned upon bearing weight on your foot. "Twisted my ankle." You said through gritted teeth.

- He wrapped an arm around you, helping to support your weight. "I know it hurts but we have to move." He said before beginning to move. You tried to keep up as much as you could.

- You both barely made it into the door before it slammed shut. You leaned against the wall, lifting your foot up to give it a break. "Thanks." You said breathlessly.

- You limped back over to the platform. You didn't want to make it obvious that you were hurt in fear that they would leave you behind. It's survival of the fittest, after all.

- Young-il turned to face you when he got on top of the platform. He reached for your hand, interlocking your fingers. "Stay with me, okay?" He said softly, but you could tell it was more of an order than a request. You nodded.

- When the merry-go-round stopped and the number was announced, his arm wrapped around you to support you again. It was two, so it was just you and him you needed to worry about. You were trying your best to keep up with him. This was high stakes, as there definitely weren't enough rooms in this round.

- Around halfway to the room, you stumbled to the floor. He turned to help you up, but you insisted, "Go claim a room, I'll get there." You said. He was hesitant to leave you, but he knew your idea was the best odds for survival.

- You forced yourself up to a standing position. You took a deep breath and started limping as fast as you could.

- Some other player reached Young-il's room before you did. He snuck his way into the room. "Hurry up and shut the door man!" He shouted.

- Young-il's blood boiled. "Get the fuck out of here before I make you get out." He spat, turning to face the man.

- The man stood his ground. "They are just gonna hold you back, man. They're deadweight. You're better off with-" He was cut off by Young-il grabbing him roughly.

- You made it to the door, getting there with a few seconds to spare. You looked at Young-il. "Throw him out, quickly." You said.

- Young-il made his choice. This man didn't deserve the chance to live. He wrapped an arm around the man's throat, cutting off his airway. "Shut the door." He said, clearly straining.

- Your eyes widened, but you listened. You slammed the door shut. Soon after, you heard a sickening pop, and the player went limp. You didn't say a word. "Player 332, eliminated."

- You wouldn't say the action scared you. You wanted him to be thrown out, which would have resulted the same way. But the personal way that Young-il took the man's life without hesitation was... concerning.

- No matter what just happened, he kept you alive. Even if it was gruesome, it was the reason you are still alive. You took a deep breath, reveling in the fact that the game was over. He pulled you into a hug, let out a relieved sigh.

- "Thank you." You murmured softly. You pulled away when the doors unlocked and swung open. You limped toward the door, frantically searching the crowd for your allies. Young-il stood behind you, doing the same.

- When you started to move toward the exit, he offered you his arm again. You shook your head. You wanted to try to walk on your own, so you only took hold of his arm for balance when you needed it.

- You were scared of looking weak to the others. You already had one player try to get rid of you. You weren't deadweight. You tried to mask any signs that you were in pain, and that worked to hide the injury from most players.

- But Young-il knew what was going through your head, and he wanted to make sure you felt comfortable. When they received dinner with the forks, he started to use the fork as a means to get leverage to tear up the sheet.

- You were puzzled with what he was doing until he brought it over to you. "Can I wrap that up for you? Might give you a bit of stability." He said.

- You were shocked at his thoughtfulness. You really thought you weren't going to get sympathy. You nodded, stretching out your leg. The makeshift ace bandage worked well enough.

- He protected you both in the game and outside of it when he resumed his role as the Front Man. You found extras of your favorites in the tins your dinner came in. Your team was paired with the weakest group in Tug of War, so you had to do the least amount of work for the victory.

- Despite the fact you thought he was dead, he was still in your corner.

Thanos/Su-bong:

- Being an ally with the most chaotic and violent player in the games should have granted you a high level of protection, but being romantically involved with him should make you virtually untouchable. Keyword being "should."

- You ended up cornered in the hall on the return to the dorms from the bathroom. You found yourself pinned to the wall by your throat by another O player.

- "You finally don't have that purple-headed asshole to protect you, huh?" He spat, smirking in your face.

- You tried to struggle against him, leading him to tighten your grip on your throat. "Nuh-uh. You aren't getting away from me until I'm done with you." He said.

- You couldn't really get a sound out to alert anyone, and even if you could, you were probably out of earshot of the players in the dorms.

- The way Thanos found out was overhearing a conversation from two other players. "Where's 438?" One asked. The other snickered. "Taking care of Thanos's bitch." He said with a sick grin.

- Thanos jumped up, scaring Min-su with his sudden movement. "The fuck did you say?" He yelled, moving toward the pair. They realized they messed up and ran off. Thanos wanted to go after them, but reason told him to let them go. For now.

- He rushed over to the hallway, Nam-gyu followed with a roll of his eyes, and Min-su looked around before timidly walking toward the hallway, hovering in the doorway.

- In a last-ditch effort to free yourself, you let your knees give out and tried to duck out of his grasp. It allowed you to take a gasp for air, but you couldn't get away. He slammed you back into the wall, and pain radiated through your skull.

- You grabbed his wrist and tried to dig your nails into his skin. He swung his other hand to strike you in the face. You cried out from this, a noise that made Thanos move even faster.

- "Hey asshole, what the fuck are you doing?" He yelled, running up to him and shoving him away from you. You scurried back toward Nam-gyu.

- Thanos saw red. You almost couldn't watch as he kicked the player repeatedly in the stomach. "You motherfucker." He snarled.

- After a few moments, it became harder for you to watch. Nam-gyu interrupted him first. "Thanos, leave it." He urged. He didn't acknowledge him. You heard the man sputter and spit up blood. "Su-bong, please." You pleaded, voice somewhat raspy from the pain in your throat.

- He stopped for a moment, taking a deep breath before giving him one more kick and turning to leave. He instantly grabbed your hand as you walked back to the dorms.

- Before you entered the dorm, he stopped in the hallway and pulled you into a hug. He didn't want any other player to recognize that vulnerability. You felt him take a shuddering breath. "It's okay, I'm okay." You said softly.

- When you four got settled in the dorm, Thanos was noticeably quieter than usual. You caught him staring at you multiple times, likely watching the bruise form on your face and neck.

- After around an hour, he suddenly remembered the other guys who knew about your attack. He suddenly tensed up, taking a deep breath before going to stand up. You grabbed his hand. "Don't. Please."

- He sighed before pouting. You rolled your eyes at him. "Fine." He said, dragging out the word. You leaned over and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. He grinned.

- That night, it was hard for him to sleep. He found himself trying to listen for every noise to assess for any threats. Eventually, he was tired enough that he dragged himself out of his bed and moved to yours.

- He climbed into your bed. You woke up rather quickly, turning toward him. He had scared you slightly, but you didn't mention it. "What's wrong?" You murmured quietly, still half asleep.

- "Couldn't sleep." He replied. He wrapped his arms around you. It was soothing to be sure you were safe. You fell back to sleep soon after, and he followed suit.

- Waking up next to each other felt amazing. You just wished that it was under different circumstances, seeing as you awoke to the music signaling the next game would begin.

Dae-ho:

- You had been in the bathrooms when the brawl began. When you heard the commotion, you wanted to run out to the others. Safety in numbers, right?

- You got to the doorway of the bathroom exit, taking a few steps out before you were noticed by a player. An O. He seemed uninterested until his eyes flickered toward the red badge on your jacket.

- He grew a sick grin. "Looks like I'm gonna take out some trash." He said, brandishing the fork he had from dinner.

- He moved to stab toward your face, and you put your arms up to shield from the blow. You cried out as it embedded in your flesh. You kicked his kneecap, causing him to let go of the fork. He stumbled onto his knees. Without hesitation, you kicked him in the balls, making him scream out.

- You rushed into the other, luckily empty, bathroom. You locked yourself in one of the far stalls, sitting up on the tank of the toilet so your feet wouldn't be seen. You started unspooling toilet paper off the roll and packing it around the fork, which was still in your skin. You didn't think you would be able to take it out yourself without fainting.

- When Dae-ho heard a player run out from the hall yelling about an attack, he looked around and quickly realized that you weren't in the dorms. "Guys, Y/N is back there." He said frantically.

- He went to rush there, but he stopped when Young-il spoke. "I wouldn't go after them. Who knows what you'll be walking into?" He warned.

- Dae-ho glared over at him. "So I'll just leave them back there on their own? Fuck that." He shot back. He was happy to see Jung-bae stand up. "Marines have to have each other's backs, right? I'm with you." He said.

- The two rushed down the hall, dodging someone who was fleeing from the fight covered in someone's blood. When they got to the bathrooms, Dae-ho tried his best not to look in. He didn't want to be reminded of the past he tried to bury.

- Jung-bae scanned the room. "I don't think they're in there." He said. Dae-ho abandoned any care for societal norms and swung open the women's bathroom, since it seemed that only the men's bathroom broke out into a brawl.

- "Y/N?" He called out, starting to walk toward the stalls. The older man stayed by the door to keep it closed. The last thing they needed was those O bastards realizing 3 Xs cornered themselves in the bathroom.

- "Dae-ho?" You responded. You didn't move from your spot, scared it was some kind of trick. You hadn't been able to calm down since locking yourself in. You were terrified that man would come for revenge.

- He let out a sigh of relief. "Yeah, it's me. Where are you?" He asked. You got off of your seat. Your uninjured arm trembled as you tried to unlock the door, eventually managing the feat.

- He rushed over after the door swung open. He tried not to look overly shocked by the sight he saw. Your wound didn't seem to be bleeding that badly, but it was enough blood to make him somewhat queasy. But there was also an anger boiling up inside of him.

- "I-I didn't know what to do. So I... I didn't t-touch it. I couldn't." You spoke frantically, stumbling over your words.

- His eyes softened upon seeing the state you were in. "Hey. It's gonna be fine. You're safe now. I'm gonna help you, okay?" He said, trying to console you.

- He started to get a wad of the paper and held in on the side of the fork. "This is probably going to hurt, but I need to do this." He warned. You nodded, squeezing your eyes shut so you didn't need to see it.

- He tried to remove it as gently as he could. You whimpered. "I know, I know, I'm sorry." He murmured. When it was out, he pressed the paper on the wound, holding it by wrapping his hand around your forearm.

- After keeping the pressure for a few moments, he looked you, using his free hand to wipe the tear from your face. "Sir, can you look to see if the brawl has ended?" He called out. You heard the door open, and it was significantly quieter out there. "I think the coast is clear." The older man called back.

- Dae-ho let out a relieved sigh. "Can you hold this?" He asked. You nodded slightly, replacing his hand with your own. You stood up shakily, still bit panicky as the adrenaline started to wear off. When you entered the hallway, he wrapped an arm around your shoulders.

- When you rejoined your group, most were relieved to see you, but Young-il had a look that you couldn't place. He was almost bitter that Dae-ho hadn't listened to him. Neither of you paid that much attention to it.

- You sat down with your back against the wall. He went to one of the empty beds and pulled the pillowcase off the pillow. He came back and sat down next to you. He managed to wrap the fabric around the wound. It was a bit awkward, but it worked to cover the wound and maintain some pressure.

- He grinned once he tucked the edge into itself and it stayed put. "Good as new." He said jokingly.

- You smiled and laughed, a sound that really put him at ease. "I wouldn't go that far." You said. You paused for a moment before looking up at him. "Thank you for coming back for me." You said sincerely.

- He looked jokingly offended. "As if I would just leave you back there, give me a little credit." He said, voice exuding his boyish charm.

- You decided to play into this. You gave an exaggerated sigh before saying, "My hero!" Like someone in distress would say to the knight who saved them. You leaned up to give him a kiss on the cheek. He felt his face heat up, and you giggled before leaning your head on his shoulder.

- He couldn't get the stupid smile off his face. He was down bad. He made a silent vow to himself to make sure the two of you got out of here. He didn't care if the others would call him naive. There wasn't a thing he wouldn't do for you.

[cockettechris]

𝑷𝑼𝑷𝑷𝒀 𝑰𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑽𝑰𝑬𝑾 - 𝑴.𝑺.

divider by: @bernardsbendystraws

Summary: when you go on the interview where there's puppies you can tell how bad Matt wants to hold them, so you let him.

Pairing: Matt x Actor!Reader

Warnings: none

A/N: I came up with this idea randomly LMAO and i thought it was cute

you sat on the cold pink floor that was attached to the pink backdrop as multiple little puppies surrounded you, a little gold retriever coming up and sitting in your lap.

"So you have a boyfriend correct?" the brown haired interviewer asked. "Yeah uh- I do. His name's Matt and he's right over there actually." you said with a small smile as you pointed off camera to Matt, who was giggling softly and the interaction with you and the little golden retriever.

You knew Matt loved animals, puppies mostly. So it was no surprise to you when he asked to tag along with you to the interview. "How would you describe the development of your character throughout the movie?" the interviewer asked, you went on a small ramble about your character in your new movie that was coming out in a few weeks, Matt just listened to you. He loved seeing how passionate you got whenever you spoke about your work.

After the little ramble, which was kinda hard to do because the little retriever kept licking your face which caused you to giggle every so often, you asked the interviewer if Matt could join you even though he had nothing to talk about. You knew how much he'd enjoy it.

The interviewer quickly agreed to which Matt hastily sat down next to you and joined you, giving you a quick kiss as he mumbled a small "Thank you." and a small husky was quick to sit in his lap, Matt smiling softly as he pet the small dog, the fur soft against his hand.

The interview kept going on, more and more puppies coming to you guys, well, Matt mostly. When the interview was over you took a quick picture of the interaction, saving it as your wallpaper. Matt sadly softly said bye to all the little fur babies, standing up and interlocking your hand with his and walking out towards his car.

Once your both sat in the car he starts it and drives smoothly to your place. He kept looking at you as if he wanted to say something but not quite sure. You noticed obviously, so you said "Matt?" to which he responded "hm?" "You need something?" he hesitates before speaking "Yeah actually." "What is it?" "Actually I'm not gonna ask you, we're getting a goddamn puppy I'll pick you up tomorrow at 8 to go shopping." he said as he pulled into your driveway and kissed you goodbye softly, mumbling a small 'I love you'.

Tags:

@mattscoquette @sturnobsessedwh0re @sturniolos-manslut19 @sturniolosluttt @mattsfavbitchhh @livy4swift @pip4444chris @christophersturnn @ariastur9z @sturniolosarethebest @sturnioq @chrislilcumslvt @conspiracy-ash @courta13 @emely9274

A/N: lmk if you wanna be added to the taglist!!

[jadeshifting]

— SCRIPTING YOUR FAMILY. ( i swear it can work even if they’re not dead )

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— DISCLAIMER. script what you want !! this isn’t judgement or an attempt to convince you of anything. i still have ded family in some realities, don’t worry :^)

alright, so a lot of shifters skip right to scripting their DR families straight into the afterlife. gone, nonexistent, dead and buried. this is for a myriad of reasons, though for me and everyone i know, it has a lot to do with backstory, or the idea that family ties are going to cramp our style or get in the way of our dream life and the plot. but, for anyone who’s interested, let’s flip the script (pun intended) and talk about why creating an original, unique family for your desired reality can actually make your experience richer, more meaningful, and a whole lot more fun !!

WHY KEEP THE FAMILY DRAMA?

first off, let’s address the elephant in the room: family can be a lot. but scripting them out entirely can be like throwing the baby out with the bathwater !! there’s tons of potential to consider there. a family offers plenty of opportunities to add depth, lore, and a whole bunch of emotional layers to your DR. think about it—what’s a life without a little family drama, a bit of cozy love, or even a quirky aunt who always brings the laughs? it doesn’t have to be a big, happy family—it can be whatever you feel like you need, whatever fits

HOW TO BUILD YOUR DR FAMILY

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— SIZE MATTERS ( but not really ) .　　. 　 ˚　. when scripting your DR family, start with size. do you want a big, loud, chaotic family with siblings running around, or something closer to a small, tight-knit crew? maybe you’re an only child who’s the apple of your parents’ eyes, or perhaps you’re in the middle of a bustling household where everyone’s got a role to play. there’s no right or wrong—just what feels right for you, and what you feel like you need in that specific DR

— CHOOSE YOUR ROLES .　　. 　 ˚　. who’s in your family? a loving, supportive mom who’s your biggest cheerleader? a cool dad who’s kind of your best friend? maybe a set of grandparents who tell you the most insane stories about their youth, or a mouthy sibling who keeps you on your toes. think about the roles that would enrich your life in your DR. remember, these people are there to support your life, not unnecessarily complicate it

— CONNECTIONS .　　. 　 ˚　. now, here’s where it gets fun (in my opinion): your relationships. are you super close with your mom, the kind of close where you can endlessly gossip and have deep life talks? is your dad the type to give you space but always manages to have your back when it counts? maybe you have an insane sibling rivalry that spans over a decade. the relationships you script can add so much flavor to your DR—it’s all about creating connections that resonate with you, and support you in all the ways you want to be supported

FITTING INTO THE LORE ( making it make sense )

if your DR has a specific lore or world-building element ( Hogwarts, Marvel, etc. you know ), weave your family into it !! maybe your mom’s a legendary witch, or your dad’s a top Auror. perhaps your family runs a magical bakery, or you’re part of an ancient lineage with a complex magical or academic heritage. the point is, your family should feel at home in your DR, adding to the story rather than feeling like an afterthought that detracts from it

SOME IDEAS FOR YOUR DR FAMILY

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( just to get you started )

— MAGICAL LINEAGE .　　. 　 ˚　. your family has a rich history tied to your DR’s lore—maybe you’re descendants of a powerful wizard, or you’ve got a long-standing feud with another powerful family. drama

— ECCENTRIC GROUP .　　. 　 ˚　. a family full of eccentric or seemingly ridiculous people—a dad who invents magical gadgets, a mom who’s an expert potion maker, siblings who are always concocting some mischievous or downright strange plans

— TIGHT-KNIT TEAM .　　. 　 ˚　. quiet and likely unassuming—just a small, close family who’s been through everything together together. you lot might not be flashy, but their love and support are solid and you know you can always count on them

— CHAOTIC CLAN .　　. 　 ˚　. a massive, bustling family where everyone’s got their own unique role. maybe you’ve got siblings with vastly different personalities, parents that always have something insane to say, or aunts and uncles hailing from faraway places. family gatherings are always an ordeal

DON’T STRESS THE DETAILS

here’s the deal: scripting your DR family is about enhancing your experience, not stressing you out or detracting from all the things you wanna do. whether you want to create a sprawling family tree or just script a few key members, it’s all up to you. and remember—at the end of the day, your DR is personal to you. it’s about what makes you feel connected, supported, and ready to dive into the adventure of a lifetime

so, build that dream family !! whether they’re magical, mundane, or somewhere in between, totally supportive or bringing never-ending drama to spice things up, at the end of the day they’re there to add richness and depth to your DR. and trust me, it’ll make your journey all the more special if you let it !!

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[thetreestumptherapist]

I don't really care about the font. As long as it is easily readable for me while I am working. I started some stories in Google docs, but moved them to Microsoft Word and am considering going back for convenience sake and I haven't touched them since I moved them partly because of the default fonts. (I am aware I could change them, but I am too lazy to do so) Maybe I do care after all...

I 100% could write it by hand, and have considered it. The only reason I don't is because editing is more difficult on paper.

I haven't been writing long enough to develop a specific ritual. So maybe my lack of ritual is the real curse?

Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis. That and Hippopotomonstrosesqippedaliaphobia. Yes, these are spelled mostly from memory. I checked the spelling for the phobia, I did not do so for the osis.

I don't know if it's a superstition really, but your characters are alive and will 100% change the story on you and there's nothing you can do about it if you want your story to come out good and cohesive.

I have two. That I will never get it the way I like it, (I know this is an unsolvable dilemma, but it's still a fear) and that no one will like it or even see it when I publish it.

Watching my story come together. As well as coming up with a solid idea for the next part of the story.

Dialogue, because I suck at it.

I do believe in ghosts. Probably not the ghosts you're thinking of though. As a Christian I do believe spirits do things we can't see, but not quite like the stereotypical ghosts in fiction. Although they are very similar.

Depends on your definition of haunted. Haunted as in I was horrified by it? I can't think of one right now, but I am almost positive it has happened. Haunted as in hung over my head because I haven't finished it yet? Yes, my own writing has done that. As have many stories that I need to finish reading.

I am not sure what that old advice is, and I don't know that I want to. Yes, I grieve the darlings lost. I have not yet killed a darling, but I am a sucker for pain and suffering. It just has to be handled correctly. So, if I ever kill a darling, believe me, it will be felt throughout the story and your life. A darling graveyard is a wonderful idea. Thank you for the suggestion. >:)

The Lorem Ipsum is a cruel and unusual punishment. As for the wishes, gaining the ability to actually finish my work, having the dialogue come out correctly, and having the writing be less awkward. I think those would be my wishes. The ability to finish my work could possibly be replaced with the ability to come up with ideas easier, like no writer's block or something. But they are essentially the same thing.

I don't know what subject I would have difficult writing about. Again, I haven't been writing very long or a lot, so I don't have much experience with it yet. Same with easy.

My lack of physical social life does not allow for me to easily lend books to people. But I can guarantee you I would know EXACTLY who had what book, but I probably wouldn't get them back because social anxiety.

Don't do it to my books and I will tolerate your book abuse. I would love to read in the bath, but I am scared of damaging the book.

The weirdest thing I've ever used as a bookmark would probably be a post it note, or gift card maybe, if I actually used a gift card for that. I am very boring with my bookmarks...

I cannot, to save my life, think of any details to tell you that won't make it into the text. I am sorry. I world build as I write and I'm still near the beginning of the story. My dnd campain tho? That would need a whole post of it's own. 👀

"Knowing how the Sangheili felt about their swords and other people using them, she hoped that given the circumstances they would understand her desperation. She picked two of them up while thanking the Sangheili, both for joining their cause and for the sacrifice they made. Then she left the battlefield, but not before paying respects to all the fallen soldiers, human and Sangheili alike. Some simple words of gratitude spoken over the battlefield was all she had time for." This is a passage from a Halo fanfiction I am writing. The story came about because I wanted to emphasize the Sangheili's focus on Honor and Respect and how their views of humans changed during their allyship with us. The MC's name is Emira (subject to change) and respect is also a core value in her morals. She has not gotten to respectfully return the swords to the Sangheili yet, but that will happen soon. If I can figure out how she is rescued or escapes from danger. The battlefield spoken about in that passage has already been left by the conflict and is inactive when she finds it. The Sangheili she thanks are fallen soldiers, and she took the swords from beside their dead bodies. The passage did not change much during its creation.

I started writing because I love making stories up in my head, but I wanted to share them. The bumps are I always picture them as movies in my head, so turning them into words and having it come out as a well-written story is difficult. I am currently writing fanfiction and short stories, but I would like to turn one of my stories into a novel. I just haven't figured out how and I don't know if I will try to get them officially published or not.

The one true love. Life gets lonely, and they can give me emotional support while I struggle with my writing skills.

I wish I could start. 💀 I have 3 WIPs, all my first stories that I actually started writing. (I consider my dnd campaign a WIP because I am considering turning it into its own fic and it is a joy to work on) I haven't published anything and am getting very annoyed by my lack of progress on all of them.

Another reason why I haven't touched my stories for awhile is because I liked Google Docs' organization abilities better than Word's. With Docs they have tabs inside the document so you can actually have your stories separated with in the same document. Whereas with Word, at least to my knowledge, the only thing separates them is the headings. I should go back to Docs...

My couch? And an ungodly amount of clutter? I watch tv in the evenings and sometimes I decide to write while I do so. I get my computer out and have it on my lap, while I sit on the couch and watch tv, ignoring the clutter caused by my undiagnosed ADHD and complete lack of motivation to do anything related to chores...

People put prep work into their stories? Like, they get prepared to write the story? I just sit down and write whatever I can come up with if it fits my current story. Sometimes I have to tweak things so it all fits together.

I haven't come up with any irrelevant details yet. Everything must be part of the story somehow.

Given that most of my characters are based on me, yes I very much regret going into their heads and I haven't come up with a way to get back out yet. Please send help. I think I took a wrong turn back at Imagination Avenue?

I can't think of a specific character that was stressful. The most stressful situation to write though, has been the wedding reception for my (healthy) romance story. I have no idea what to do with it.

My MC for the romance story has probably been the most delightful. Either her, or Nialith Madgarb, (pronounced nye-uh-lith Mad-garb) from my DND campaign.

My brain is a cesspool for the craziest ideas. I pull inspiration from everywhere. Sometimes I wish the inspiration well WOULD run dry so I could have a moment of peace and quiet, but nay, I am doomed to an eternity of infinite ideas that I simply must run with. I am exhausted.

I have not yet written my dreams, nor dreamed my writings.

"Thank you for reading my stories. It means a lot to have people who enjoy my writing. Or are open to civil discussion about why they don't like it. I truly appreciate y'all"

Do deepfakes count? There is a series called "Master Chief teaches" and it's a bunch of videos of an ai recreation of Master Chief's voice and a script where "Master Chief" teaches you how to do stuff. In the video titled "Master Chief teaches you what to do when things go sideways" he says "adopting a solution-oriented mind helps you stay focused on what is most important during any crisis and that is taking action. Without action there is no movement, and without movement problems remain what they are" "Without movement problems remain what they are" is something I return to regularly when I start feeling overwhelmed by school, chores, etc. I could sit there and avoid the problem until it's so bad I can't anymore, or I could take action and make a move to fix the problem when I encounter it instead of sitting there overwhelmed and frozen. I recommend giving the video a watch, even if you don't play or like Halo.

I like to draw and paint (with watercolor, acrylic, and/or ink), and I have dabbled in cross-stitch, embroidery, and diamond art. I plan to draw some of the characters from my stories. I really want to paint Nialith Madgarb in my inks, but I am still working on mentally designing her character.

"Let's eat grandma"... Use the Oxford comma, people. It saves lives.

I cannot remember a single writing rule to comment on right now. If it works for your story and style, go for it. If it doesn't, yeet it into the abyss. Idk

I know an entire alphabet's worth of star wars character's and then some. This has nothing to do with my ability to write. Also, Halo 5: Guardians and Star Wars: The Force Awakens came out the same year, one in October, the other in December. Again, not related to my writing.

They wouldn't even consider me lol. And if they did, they'd think I was insane. And had severe ADHD. And they wouldn't be wrong...

My writing process is too slow and barely existing. Nothing about it is super weird except for the fact that I bounce all over the story and fill in the missing parts once I come up with a way to do so. As for the cats, they like to think they don't care about us, but they 100% do. And they would die of embarrassment if they knew we know they care.

Nothing. If I feel like giving up, I take a break until I inevitably come up with an irresistible idea on how to continue the story. Rinse and repeat.

I don't know if you mean a poem someone else wrote, or one I wrote, so I shall do both. Robert Frost's Stopping by woods on a Snowy Evening: Whose woods these are I think I know His house in the village though He will not see me stopping here To watch his woods fill up with snow My little horse must think it queer To stop without a farmhouse near Between the woods and frozen lake The darkest evening of the year He gives is harness bells a shake To ask if there is some mistake The only other sound's the sweep Of easy wind and downy flake The woods are lovely, dark and deep But I have promises to keep And miles to go before I sleep And miles to go before I sleep. My poem: Where’s my Neverland?: Where’s my Neverland? I’ve got so much in my hand Meetings and school I know you do too We want an adventure But life forces expenditure Paying the bills By wasting our skills Wish I could read until 2 a.m. But, alas, an adult I am And my days are made up Of working towards a paystub I wish we were kids Lying down in our beds Looking out at the sky Where the stars are not shy People today are depressed and dismayed All the time worrying about being betrayed Worried about being laid off from work And still somehow not giving a "fork" Where is our Neverland? Where is our wish? Of fun-filled times and Mom’s favorite dish? Where’s our adventure filled with imagination and beauty? Of digging in sand to find pirate booty? The answer is simple, and yet oh so sad Those days are gone by, the best days we’ve had Those memories are all that we have Of those days made whole by a laugh But, worry not, for there’s always tomorrow So, please don’t obsess over yesterday’s sorrow Look straight ahead While lying in bed Dreaming of heaven Those days will be back soon I reckon Where sorrows will be traded for unending joy And kids in sandboxes again shout “AHOY” And we can always smell the finest of food And all work turns to play and we know that it’s good

I hope this answers all your questions and confirms that writers are in fact weird. :) And I hope the poetry was satisfactory.

Weird Questions for Writers (because writers are weird)

1. What font do you write in? Do you actually care or is that just the default setting?

2. If you had to give up your keyboard and write your stories exclusively by hand, could you do it? If you already write everything by hand, a) are you a wizard and b) pen or pencil?

3. What is your writing ritual and why is it cursed?

4. What’s a word that makes you go absolutely feral?

5. Do you have any writing superstitions? What are they and why are they 100% true?

6. What is your darkest fear about writing?

7. What is your deepest joy about writing?

8. If you had to write an entire story without either action or dialogue, which would you choose and how would it go?

9. Do you believe in ghosts? This isn’t about writing I just wanna know

10. Has a piece of writing ever “haunted” you? Has your own writing haunted you? What does that mean to you?

11. Do you believe in the old advice to “kill your darlings?” Are you a ruthless darling assassin? What happens to the darlings you murder? Do you have a darling graveyard? Do you grieve?

12. If a genie offered you three writing wishes, what would they be? Btw if you wish for more wishes the genie turns all your current WIPs into Lorem Ipsum, I don’t make the rules

13. What is a subject matter that is incredibly difficult for you write about? What is easy?

14. Do you lend your books to people? Are people scared to borrow books from you? Do you know exactly where all your “lost” books are and which specific friend from school you haven’t seen in twelve years still possesses them? Will you ever get them back?

15. Do you write in the margins of your books? Dog-ear your pages? Read in the bath? Why or why not? Do you judge people who do these things? Can we still be friends?

16. What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever used as a bookmark?

17. Talk to me about the minutiae of your current WIP. Tell me about the lore, the history, the detail, the things that won’t make it in the text.

18. Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me about the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end. Spicy addition: Questioner provides the passage.

19. Tell me a story about your writing journey. When did you start? Why did you start? Were there bumps along the way? Where are you now and where are you going?

20. If a witch offered you the choice between eternal happiness with your one true love and the ability to finally finish, perfect, and publish your dearest, darlingest, most precious WIP in exactly the way you've always imagined it — which would you choose? You can’t have both sorry, life’s a bitch

21. Could you ever quit writing? Do you ever wish you could? Why or why not?

22. How organized are you with your writing? Describe to me your organization method, if it exists. What tools do you use? Notebooks? Binders? Apps? The Cloud?

23. Describe the physical environment in which you write. Be as detailed as possible. Tell me what’s around you as you work. Paint me a picture.

24. How much prep work do you put into your stories? What does that look like for you? Do you enjoy this part or do you just want to get on with it?

25. What is a weird, hyper-specific detail you know about one of your characters that is completely irrelevant to the story?

26. How do you get into your character’s head? How do you get out? Do you ever regret going in there in the first place?

27. Who is the most stressful character you’ve ever written? Why?

28. Who is the most delightful character you’ve ever written? Why?

29. Where do you draw your inspiration? What do you do when the inspiration well runs dry?

30. Talk to me about the role dreams play in your writing life. Have you ever used material from your dreams in your writing? Have you ever written in a dream? Did you remember it when you woke up?

31. Write a short love letter to your readers.

32. What is a line from a poem/novel/fanfic etc that you return to from time and time again? How did you find it? What does it mean to you?

33. Do you practice any other art besides writing? Does that art ever tie into your writing, or is it entirely separate?

34. Thoughts on the Oxford comma, Go:

35. What’s your favorite writing rule to smash into smithereens?

36. They say to Write What You Know. Setting aside for a moment the fact that this is terrible advice...what do you Know?

37. If you were to be remembered only by the words you’ve put on the page, what would future historians think of you?

38. What is something about your writing process YOU think is Really Weird? If you are comfortable, please share. If you’re not comfortable, what do you think cats say about us?

39. What keeps you writing when you feel like giving up?

40. Please share a poem with me, I need it.

[megamindsecretlair]

hey i just need something real nasty between husband and wife with mr.aaron (i say it key and peele😂😂) with some angst before the actual plot🤭

A/N: Ask and ye shall receive, beautiful.

Made You Fall For Me

Pairing: Husband!Terry Richmond x Wife!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. SMUT. Cursing, teasing (fem and male receiving), PIV, oral (female receiving), Reader is able to be picked up, use of pet names, angst. Mentions of death of a loved one, trauma. All consensual. Sorry if I missed some.

Summary: It had been two weeks since the anniversary of Mike’s death and Terry still beat himself up over it. Tired of Terry not letting you in, you join him in the shower and show him that he has a life to lead right here and now with you. Story by @uniqueoutlierblog

Word Count: 5,371k

AO3 Link

A/N: Thank you so much for dealing with my hiatus. I'm stronger mentally than I have ever been. Definitely worked on myself and stopped being so hard on myself. The kind asks really helped me find my way back, so have this smutty fic as a giant thank you! Thank you so much for all your continued support! Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, gif, or unhinged ask.

Terry sighed as he entered the bedroom. You looked up from your phone to watch your husband. 

His tall frame moved fluidly around the space, taking off of his pants and his shirt. It was soaked through having just finished at the gym. He sat on the edge of the bed to fling off his socks and toss it in the knit hamper. 

“Hey babe,” you said. 

“Hey baby,” Terry sighed.

You stared at the back of his head as his shoulders drooped the longer he sat on the bed. He looked so…dejected. Like someone sucked the air from his tires. You leaned up and let your powder blue throw blanket fall from your shoulders.

This was the second week in a row that your husband was still in this funk. Two weeks since the anniversary of Mike’s death where it seemed like Terry relived it all over again. It started with a dream, the very moment he ran into the hospital carrying Summer. Hopped up on adrenaline, a bullet in his shoulder, and him looking for the next threat. 

Then he would slowly withdraw mentally, checking out of conversations. Floating through the motions of going to work and getting back home. You were worried that he would get into an accident but he was able to operate on auto-pilot, navigating the world just as he normally would. 

It was both sad and amazing that he was able to do so. But this wasn’t your husband. This was a guilt ridden man who sometimes realized that he had no family. You were his family, of course, but he had no living blood relative alive. Mike was his one and only connection and that was severed by hate and pride. 

“Baby, will you please talk to me?” You asked. You fiddled with the edge of your phone. He wasn’t facing you, but you were still nervous to look at his face. You didn’t know which would be worse. Hearing you and choosing not to speak or not hearing you at all because he was lost somewhere you couldn’t reach?  

“I-I’m trying,” he said. He tilted his head to the side. You longed to comfort him, hold him, console him in some way. But every time you reached out, he would stare at you as if he couldn’t feel it. Couldn’t feel you. 

You didn’t know how to help him through this. You’ve lost people, sure, but you always had enough family and friends to fall back on. You didn’t know what it was like for him and he was too stubborn to let you take some of his pain. 

You moved forward and crawled on the bed towards him. He stiffened as you got closer and you wrapped your arms around him anyway. You held on and placed your hand over his heart. It beat rapidly beneath your fingers and you inwardly sighed in relief. He was still in there. His heart still beat.

“You have to stop beating yourself up about this. He wouldn’t want you to blame yourself forever,” you said. You kissed his back and rested your cheek on his skin. He was always so warm, like your own personal fire pit. But due to the sweat, he was cold and clammy. 

“I was supposed to protect him. That was my one and only job,” Terry said. 

“You were supposed to love him. But what happened was out of your control,” you said. 

Terry sighed and stood up, breaking your embrace. He hung his head as he walked to the bathroom. The door closed decisively and you flinched from the harsh sound. The light turned on underneath the doorway. The shower turned on and you didn’t hear anything further. 

Some days you wanted to knock your husband’s teeth in. His overprotective instincts went into hyperdrive, past the point of what was healthy. He refused to think of himself and the consequence be damned. Other times, you just wanted to wrap him in a floofy blanket and never let him out of your sight. You couldn’t very well fault him for wanting to keep you safe when you were the exact same way. 

But this…it varied on when he’d be able to pull himself out of this. Sometimes you’d say or do something to bring him back. Sometimes he’d take a deep breath and release that dark cloud. And sometimes, he’d disappear for a whole day and return back to the sweet, loving man you married. 

But fuck this. You missed your husband. And you were tired of seeing him walk around like a zombie. You got out of bed and headed straight to the bathroom.

Steam rushed out and passed over your exposed skin. You closed the door behind you and noted the discarded underwear on the floor and a red towel on the edge of the sink. Terry’s silhouette moved just behind the foggy glass doors. 

You quickly stripped, flinging your lavender sleep set to the ground with his briefs. You stuffed your bonnet beneath a shower cap and slid the glass doors back. Terry looked over his shoulder at you and you entered the spacious shower behind him. 

The custom shower with tiles painted in different shades of brown was roomy enough for about three people comfortably if they were all intimate. Water cascaded down from a waterfall shower head, pouring down over Terry’s strong body. Water dripped from the edge of his wide nose, his full lips, and his well-defined chest. You followed the trail of water down his belly and over his long, thick dick. Water fell down in his long legs and huge feet. 

“What are you doing?” He asked.

“I’m taking a shower,” you said. You shoved past him and grabbed your wash cloth, pulling it under the spray of water to get it wet. 

Terry huffed. “Had to be now?” He asked.

“Yup,” you said, popping the ‘P’. Instead of grabbing your favorite soap, you grabbed his and lathered up the wash cloth. 

“C’mon,” Terry said. He tugged on your arm for you to turn around. 

You did so and slapped the wash cloth against his chest. “I miss you,” you said, cutting off whatever he was about to say. He closed his mouth and grimaced, jaw flexing. 

You flattened both of your hands against his chest and stepped closer. Water hit your back at a lukewarm temperature. You had no clue how he could shower like this but that wasn’t the point. “I miss my husband and I need you to come back, right now,” you said. 

Terry closed his eyes and his long eyelashes fanned across his cheeks. His mouth worked like he wanted to say something but the words never came. Whatever he wanted to say lodged in his throat and he couldn’t choke it out.

“So after this shower, you better step out of it and remember that you did everything right for Mike. And he made his own choices. That’s not your fault. It has never been your fault. And it’s time you accept that,” you said. 

You moved the wash cloth over his skin, scrubbing him down. Soap transferred to his body in thick suds, falling down his skin. He watched you and shut his mouth as you scrubbed him all over his chest and moved on to his arms. 

His eyes never left yours as you massaged the cloth between his fingers. He sighed and hummed as you found tense spots. You rubbed him deeper in those areas, working out the tension. 

You maneuvered behind him so he could rinse and then washed his back, creating big circles of soap. You moved down to his ass, teasing him a bit. He grunted and then chuckled. Well, that was a good sign. If he was chuckling then at least he was starting to relax. 

You washed down his legs, tickling him in areas. He danced out of your way and you warned him to be careful in this slippery ass shower.

“If you die, I’ll bring you back and kill you again,” you warned.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said and smirked. 

You worked your way back to his front. His dick twitched and bobbed in your face. You looked up at him and his head was tilted to the side as he looked down at you. Fuck, he was pretty like this. Above you, staring at you, and in all his naked glory.

He needed to walk around like this more often. For your eyes only. That beautiful male body needed to be on display 24/7. 

You looked at his dick and then slowly dragged your eyes up his body and back to his striking ocean eyes. He took in a deep breath as his mouth curved upward. The rise and fall of his chest had an answering throb in your clit. You dropped to your knees on the hard flooring but it barely registered in your mind. 

Your husband worked his way back to you in the best way you both knew how. Sex was everything to the both of you. The one way you knew you were on solid ground. From the moment you two met, it had been electric and consuming. Always finding ways to touch each other or be near each other and breathe each other’s air. 

You dragged the wash cloth over his dick. At the first press of your hand, he hissed and jerked his hips towards you. You steadied your left hand on his hip and then stroked him with your right. 

He lifted his head towards the showerhead and let the water run down his face. Since he leaned back, water fell on top of your head and face but you kept looking towards him and the look on his face. 

He was hands down the most beautiful man you had ever met. And the kindest. He wasn’t always nice. He had more than enough words to say about folks that crossed him. But he was always kind, always treated people with respect. And he was a gentleman on top of it. Always opened your doors, always stood on the side of the street closest to danger. Every day, you found new ways to fall in love with your man. You only wished he’d forgive himself. 

“I love you. And I miss you. I need you to come back,” you told him. You increased the pressure, giving him long, slow strokes. All the way down to his base, squeezed, and then worked your way back to his tip. 

He groaned and rolled his neck, moving his hips. Your pussy throbbed seeing cum leak from his tip. He leaned one hand on the side of the shower, fingers pushing into the grooves. 

“Fuck,” he muttered. “I’m sorry.” 

“You have to let me in when things get dark, Terry. I don’t like feeling like I’m on the outside,” you told him.

Terry nodded his head and his eyes turned darker. But he didn’t look so far away now. His eyes were clearer, more present. “I hate feeling like I failed,” he said. His jaw flexed and you matched him stare for stare. 

“You did everything you possibly could. You deserve a life too. Not to punish yourself for the life Mike doesn’t have,” you said. You paused stroking and let the sound of the shower fill the room. 

Steam rose to the ceiling in wispy clouds. Soap and water rushed down Terry’s body. His chest rose and fell in heaving sighs but then evened out. Once his breathing returned to normal, you began stroking him again.

He groaned and dropped his head as you increased your strokes. You watched his face and watched the emotions play across his features. His lush lips parted and he moaned, deeply and guttural. “I’m gonna bust,” he moaned.

“Give it to me,” you whispered, just loud enough to be heard above the spray of water. You kept your same pace and three strokes later, Terry’s dick throbbed and his cum splashed onto your neck and titties. 

Terry’s moans were sweet music to your ears. You grinned evilly and kept stroking. He jerked and stuttered with chuckles and reached out to still your hands. He huffed and chuckled, giving you a saucy wink. 

He pulled you up by your arms and crushed his lips to yours as soon as you were within reach. He grabbed the cloth from your hands and hung it on the lip of the shower door. He cupped your neck in both hands and angled your face to meet his rough kisses. You moaned into his mouth. You missed this. You missed him. So damn badly.

The ache in your chest finally lifted now that your man was back. He healed and soothed with every kiss, every swipe of his tongue, every caress of his thumb on your wet skin. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he harshly whispered between kisses. 

“It’s okay,” you whispered back.

Terry pulled back and looked into your eyes. He narrowed his and pressed a soft kiss to your lips. “I will call and get help later today. There’s no excuse for how I’ve been acting. You deserve better from me,” he said.

You tilted your head and kissed his wrist. “I do. But I also know we’re in this for life. So I need you to let me in more,” you said.

Terry nodded. “I promise. Thank you, for sticking with me through this shit,” he said.

“That’s what wives are for,” you said with a giggle. 

Terry took a deep breath and then a mischievous gleam made his hazel eyes twinkle. A smirk curved his lips and he began to massage your neck. You hummed and your eyes drooped. “Husbands are for protecting you and taking care of you, right?” He asked.

“Yes,” you said slowly, eyeing him. He was up to something…

Terry flipped you around and pressed your chest against the glass shower doors. You cried out from the sudden cold on your nipples as he pushed until your titties flattened against the doors. He kicked your legs wider to spread for him and your body shivered from his casual roughness. 

“T-Terry,” you sighed. 

Terry locked your arms behind you, hooking his arm around your elbows so that you were unable to move. Terry licked the shell of your ear and you shuddered. He slipped his free hand around your throat to pull your neck back and rest your head on his shoulder. 

“I’m gonna make up for my bullshit,” he promised with heat laced through every syllable. 

“Terry, you don’t–”

Terry cut you off by moving his hand from your neck to his dick. He ran the tip through your dripping folds and then plunged inside with a rough thrust. “Oh shit!” You cried out, twisting your hands to try and slow him down. But because he had your arms trapped, you had no choice but to take his dick.

He angled your hips into a more comfortable position and then he slipped his hand back around your throat. He grunted with every deep thrust, filling you up, and making you take it. 

“Too much, too much,” you whined, trying to lean away from him. Terry pushed into you harder, pinning you to the door, while he continued to fuck you. Your forehead leaned on the doors and your breath fogged up the glass with your moans and sighs. 

“You can take it, baby,” he said, sinking you deeper and harder onto his length. He kissed your neck, licked and nibbled in areas, and moved upwards to your ear. “I love you so much. And I know I’ve been an ass. I haven’t been fair to you,” he whispered in your ear while he continued to dig into your guts.

You weren’t quite prepared for him to be so sweet and so nasty all at once. He gave you no time to fully hear his message or fully focus on his dick inside you so you were stuck in a twisted limbo. Suspended between absolute pleasure and your heart swelling with emotions. 

“That ends today, okay? I’ll prove that I’ll do better,” he said. He grunted and cursed under his breath. 

“Fuck, you feel so good,” you moaned. 

“That’s my job as your husband. And it’s a job I take seriously,” he said. He smiled against your neck and then pulled you into a rough kiss over your shoulder. Your lips danced and played with each other as your orgasm rushed to the surface. 

You began to cry and stutter as it washed over you. Terry moaned as you squeezed around his dick. “Fuck, that’s it,” he panted into your ear. 

When you came down, Terry let your arms go. He slipped out with a grunt and stepped back. You missed the heat of him instantly. He rubbed the feeling back into your arms from having them bent back for so long. He grabbed the discarded wash cloth from the top of the shower and rinsed it out.

He lathered up with his soap and then carefully washed down your back and your ass. His finger slipped between your cheeks to tease as he washed you down and you giggled with him. 

Terry turned you around and washed down your front. Washed the cum from your chest that didn’t rinse off from the water. You smiled at each other, finding your way back with every swipe of the cloth across your titties, your tummy, and down your thighs. He ran the cloth between your legs, careful not to get soap in between, and you moaned just from having his hands on you again.

His lips on yours. His eyes seeing you again after weeks of zoning out. Hints of your husband poked through that barrier he erected and now you were let in behind the wall. You grinned at him and leaned on your toes for a kiss. 

The kiss was meant to be innocent and sweet, just something to show that you loved him. That you were there and never letting him disappear again. But Terry kissed you deeper, grabbing you about the neck once more and crushed his lips to yours. 

His tongue slipped inside and then he gently nibbled on your bottom lip with his teeth. “Terry,” you sighed. Your stomach flipped with desire. Pussy throbbing. Once wasn’t nearly enough. 

“I know,” he said. He lifted your chin and brought you in for a sweet kiss. He deepened the kiss even as he maneuvered you towards the shower wall. He lifted you by the ass to wrap your legs around his hips. 

“Fuck,” you cried out. It never ceased to amaze you that he was so strong. He worked hard in the gym to take care of himself but also to lift every pound you had. He lifted without effort, without strain, and grinned when he caught the look on your face. 

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Terry said. He stared into your eyes as he pushed back into you. Back into your warm, wet heat and you both groaned as he pushed in slowly, all the way down to the base. 

Your nails dug into his back and shoulders, clutching on for dear life. He was huge and thick. Long. He pulled back and then sank in once more, repeating this over and over to make you feel every last inch of him. Feel his mushroom head push against your soft, spongy walls welcoming him in. 

Your mouth dropped open, needing to release something. A cry, a moan, a word. Nothing came as he stroked into you, increasing with each one. Soon, he was slamming into you. His wet, loud strokes echoed in the tiled shower and your cries soon joined it. 

“You feelin’ me?” He asked. 

You nodded. You adjusted your arms around his neck and he dropped his forehead to yours. 

“Look at me,” he whispered. You locked your eyes with him and it somehow made his strokes even more intense. He throbbed inside you. 

“You feel me. Right here and now. I’m not going anywhere. I’m never going away again,” he moaned while he stroked. 

“Terry,” you sniffled. 

Fuck, this was all you ever wanted. You didn’t need him to be perfect. You didn’t need him to be a textbook definition of a husband. You just wanted him present and with you. Sharing his pain and his joys. Sickness and health. Better and worse. Those were the vows you swore before a room full of your close friends and family. 

“I feel you. I feel you right here,” you promised. 

Terry switched up his strokes, getting deeper than before and bottoming out. You both groaned and threw your heads back, getting lost in the sensation of him filling you up. Connecting the both of you. As close as you could possibly be to another human being. 

Terry leaned down and kissed you, playing with your lips, even as his hips slammed into you over and over. Pressure built in your belly, making your thighs quake and your arms tremble. “Terry, please, I can’t,” you begged. It was too much. It felt like you were out of control, out of your norm, unrooted. 

Terry only continued exactly what he was doing. “You’re taking me so well, baby. You can keep going,” he said. 

Your eyes swam and your vision turned blurry as you clung to him and came undone on his dick again. Your cries were loud enough to echo and bounce off of the tiled walls and ceiling, giving you a feedback loop of your own pleasure. It amplified your orgasm and you shut your eyes and surrendered to the overwhelming feeling. 

Terry kissed you all over your face, neck, and shoulders. He pumped you into you until his own hips stuttered and shot loads of thick cum into your pussy. You whined and shivered as he fucked his cum deeper and deeper. 

He slowed to a gradual stop and you stayed connected like that while you both recovered. Water still pelted the both of you and you kissed on each other, soaking up the moment. Terry leaned over and turned off the water, still holding you.

He smiled and kissed your lips. He nuzzled your nose. “Missed this,” he said.

“Me too,” you said. You kissed his cheek. 

Terry carefully stepped out of the shower with you still wrapped around him like a spider monkey. You were glad. Because now that you had him back, you weren’t ready to let him go. As if you would keep him here with you by sheer force of will. 

He moved the towel from the edge of the sink and placed you down, slipping out of you. You kissed and loved on each other while he dried the both of you off. Greedy for more, you reached between you to play with his heavy balls. 

Terry groaned and tilted his head down at you. “You sure you wanna do that?” He asked.

You continued fondling his balls, rubbing them between your fingers, and making him moan. His hips canted towards yours and you bit your lip, needing him back inside. Two orgasms weren’t enough. No number would satisfy you. 

“It’s been too long,” you pouted and looked at him. 

He chuckled and kissed you, taking possession of your poked out lip. He suckled on it and you moaned, feeling your pussy respond and ache from just this small action. 

“Get that sexy ass on our bed. Let me clean up in here and I’ll take care of that,” he said. 

You pouted again and whined but he bit your lip. “Now.” He deepened his voice and arched a perfect eyebrow at you. 

You rolled your eyes and his eyebrow lifted higher. You grinned and hopped off the sink. While being punished for your attitude would be fun, you just wanted him right now. No extras, no games. You wanted to enjoy him and enjoy his body. 

He smacked your ass as you walked out and he chuckled after you shrieked and hid your ass behind your hands. You skipped to your bedroom and laid down on your bed. Cool air blew across your damp skin but it wasn’t freezing or uncomfortable.

The temperature was just right to make you hyper aware of your body. Of the feel of your skin and the thorough fucking Terry just gave you. Your pussy was still sensitive but you couldn’t resist teasing your clit. You ran your other hand along your skin, your belly, and your titties. Squeezing your nipple between your fingers and moaning from the dual sensations. 

“Terry…” you called out, drawing out his name. If he didn’t get in here soon, you were about to take matters into your own hands. 

The afternoon sun was setting low, rich oranges and golds slanting through your curtains and casting a warm glow about your room. Most days, you hated that your place faced east and west, but on lazy days like today, it was perfect. 

Terry moved about the bathroom, you had no clue what he was doing. So you closed your eyes and continued to play with yourself. You grew wetter by the second, your mind filling in with images of Terry’s broad chest. His narrow hips. That monster he had between his legs and the unbridled pleasure he managed to provide every single time. 

God, you loved that man. In every which way you were able to get him. You didn’t have the words to convey it but you’d spend the rest of your life trying to find them. 

You moaned as your imagination took over. Replaying what happened in the shower, the look on his face, the fire in his hazel eyes. You sighed as Terry entered the room.

“Oh, you bold,” he said, his voice laced with amusement. 

You didn’t stop though. You spread your legs further and shifted on the bed so that he could get a clearer view. “All warmed up for you,” you teased. 

Terry’s eyes dropped to the core of you, at the way you held your pussy lips open. Your other hand teased around your clit in figure eights, dipping into your pussy every so often to gather up more essence. 

Terry’s tongue swiped out to lick from one side to the other. Your fingers lost their rhythm. “Keep going,” he commanded. 

You whined and started up again but you couldn’t think straight. Not with him leaning against the wall looking at you like you were a five course meal and he was a starving man. When you just couldn’t find that spot again, Terry smirked and walked closer.

“What happened?” He asked.

“You,” you said. 

Terry smirked and took his time kneeling at the edge of the bed. He grabbed your thighs and pressed his thumbs to your inner thighs, massaging them. “Fuck,” you moaned and twisted, trying to close your legs and trap his hands there.

“Naw. Open back up. That’s what you get for trying to handle it yourself,” he said. 

“It’s been too long since I’ve seen you,” you said and smirked. Terry lifted an eyebrow but his eyes were still on your throbbing pussy. He had to see how you were clenching around nothing. Clenching and reaching for him. 

He leaned down and kissed your clit. He retreated too quickly for your blood and you whined, pushing your hips back towards his face. 

“I’m still apologizing so I won’t make you beg this time,” he said. Without further ado, he dragged his pink, juicy lips through your folds, hunting for your clit. His tongue darted out and teased, dragging the tip through your folds. His tongue was warm as it flattened against your clit and he licked.

“Fuck!” You screamed out. 

Terry smiled between your legs before getting down to business. He suckled and licked and nibbled while he feasted on your pussy. Your pussy throbbed and ached while he slurped up your essence noisily. 

“Fuck, baby. Right there,” you moaned.

Terry locked in to the spot and swirled his tongue around in tight circles. You clutched to the covers, nails digging in for dear life as you twisted and jerked. You reached down to grab onto the back of his head and push his head deeper. 

Terry placed his hands to your thighs and pinned them to the bed while he ate you out, never stopping for breath. He just ate like a man possessed until you were twitching and crying out on his tongue, reaching your climax in record time.

Terry continued to eat you out through it, whispering into your pussy how perfect and sexy you were. How much he had to make up for. Your throat was scratched raw from all the moaning you were doing, too spent to respond. To tell him that he didn’t have a damn thing to make up for. His pain was valid and he had a right to see it through, but he had to see it through. Not just disappear into his head.

None of that came through. Your vision swam as you looked at the popcorn ceiling, too blissed out to form a coherent sentence. Terry replaced the view of the ceiling, leaning down on his fists, as he smirked at you.

“Still with me?” He asked.

“Always,” you sighed. 

He chuckled as he climbed onto the bed. It dipped beneath his weight, jostling you a bit. His knees pushed your legs on top of his thighs. His eyes sparkled as he slipped into you, meeting no resistance from your pussy.

“Shit,” you grunted. You pushed feebly at his chest. Not necessarily to make him stop, but fuck, you needed time to recover. Time to catch your breath. He stole the motherfucker, the least he could do was let you gain it back.

“Nothing feels better than this,” he said. He sank deeper into you, making you curl into him and squeeze his hips with your legs. He grabbed both of your hands and pinned them above your head, poking your chest out for his lips to capture your nipples.

He suckled on them, going back and forth between the two, while he fucked into you lazily. Unhurried. Like he managed to pause time long enough to focus on delivering you pleasure. His eyes found yours and he smiled, his dazzling grin turning you stupid and pliant.

He groaned as he felt your body relax and he dug into you, harder, deeper, faster. “I love you,” he said.

“I love you,” you moaned.

“Cum with me, baby,” he said.

You whined and focused on cumming with him like he said. You could feel him throbbing inside you, close, oh so close. You panted, sweating, legs trembling, back bowing. He leaned to one side so that he could slip his free hand between your legs to play with your clit.

Your moans increased to a near panic as your orgasm came running at his beck and call. You cried out and your squeezing pussy milked him. He moaned and dropped his head as he spilled into you over and over, his body trembling from the force. 

He kissed your cheek but you otherwise laid there and enjoyed the feeling of him crushing you to the bed. Who needed oxygen anyway?

Your stomach rumbled, breaking the beautiful silence after such a powerful moment. You both laughed as it rumbled again. Terry released your hands and you covered your tummy. He pushed your hands away with his chin and then kissed your belly. 

“We’re gonna need another shower and then I need to feed my wife,” he said.

“Feed your wife or feed your wife?” You asked, waggling your eyebrows. You were spent and tired but you could find another round in you for him. Always for him. 

“Both, nasty ass,” he said. He stood up and then pulled you with him to stand as well. He gave you a sweet, tender kiss and promised over and over with both his tongue and his actions that he would become a man worthy of your love. 

The end.

I love you all. The Secret Terry Richmond Files

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[thewitchblue]

"You know, in the animal kingdom, this rock would be a proposal."

Tim mused as he took it from your hands. Don't ask how he knows penguins and otters give rocks to show affection and also mate for life. He was in a rabbit hole after the first rock you gave him. You said slowly,

"Tim... humans propose with rocks."

Tim gave a distracted hum as he eyed the rock you gave him. You found a rock that you said was "pretty like his eyes." A beautiful blue agate you found near a lake when you went swimming a few days ago.

It didn't even register in his brain what you said. He was too distracted by the rock you gave him. He turned it over in his hand and marvelled at the beautiful shimmer it produced.

"Yeah, but this is a rock rock. Not a diamond."

He said. His eyes turned to you again. You looked incredibly amused. A rock rock? You wanted to laugh. You've been giving him rocks for the entirety of your friendship. It's become your thing to randomly hand him a rock.

You're hoping one day he'll realise that the rock means you are interested in him romantically, but you were starting to doubt it will ever happen, or maybe he's simply ignoring the message.

"Give it back if it's just a rock then."

You knew he wouldn't give you the rock. He hoarded everything you gave him like a squirrel hoarding its nuts for the winter.

"No take backs."

He replied as he held the stone closer to his chest. You laughed at his suddenly very protective stance. It's adorable seeing him turn into a pouty toddler.

"Stop being cute or I'm going to vomit."

Jason said as he passed into the kitchen. He says that as if he doesn't internally smile at the cute duo. He can't help his romantic heart from its love for love, as much as it annoys him.

You were so amused by Tim's fascination. It's like this every time you give him a rock. He has a full rock collection at this point, all gifted from you. He never stopped to think about why you give him all the pretty and rare stones. He accepts every stone with as much love and adoration, even the plain ones that you grabbed while hanging out with him.

Tim smiled as he said,

"I might turn this into a ring."

He really loved your rock giving. He wanted to memorialise your special gift giving. He's grown to love rocks because of you.

"Are you saying you would say yes if I proposed right here, right now?"

You asked. It was a bold move to ask him such a question, but a necessary one at this point.

"Yes."

He said confidently. Jason shook his head and sighed at his oblivious brother. He's stupid not to see how obvious you were. Where is his brain when it comes to personal relationships? Jason started eating the granola bar he stole when Alfred wasn't looking. He wanted to watch the show about to happen.

You shrugged and casually said,

"We're engaged then."

It took Tim a minute to comprehend what you said. Did he hear you correctly? What just happened? Are you skipping straight to marriage without dating him? He was extremely confused.

Jason was also confused, but more about why you decided it would be a good idea to propose, especially so casually. He knew you were smitten, but now is kind of a bad time to randomly propose. You completely skipped the romantic build-up. Tim asked,

"Wait, what?"

You smiled fondly at him. You knew he'd be confused, but you were getting annoyed with him not taking the hint. You repeated,

"We're engaged now."

It took a minute for him to realise how serious you actually were. You stared at each other as his brain tried to catch up with what had just happened.

"You're not joking?"

He said in a mystified tone. You shook your head.

"Nope."

What does he even say to something like that? It came out of nowhere, in his eyes. He stated plainly,

"You skipped dating me."

You shrugged. You've had a crush on him for well over two years. You've done all the couple things aside from kissing. Why not propose? The dating was never going to happen at the rate of which you were going. You said,

"I don't care. Do you?"

He looked at you with a serious expression for a moment. You weren't kidding about this proposal in the slightest. His eyes turned back to the rock. He supposes an agate is a gemstone, which he could definitely turn into a pair of engagement rings.

He decided he didn't care about skipping the dating phase. It saves him the effort of planning a proposal further down the line anyway. He shrugged and said,

"Okay."

Jason didn't know what just happened. Did Tim seriously get engaged before his eyes? And accept? Is the wedding going to be as equally unusual? What did he just witness? His brother is an anomaly. Jason said,

"I'm telling Dick."

It sounded like a threat, but Tim didn't care. He knew the future him was going to care when Dick dramatically announced the engagement, but that's not a problem for now.

You kissed him for the first time and almost laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation. You're engaged! You never thought this would happen!

Jason gagged and left, but you could make out the tiny smile on his face. He was happy for his brother. Finally.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU GOT ENGAGED?!"

Dick screamed when he found out the news. Poor Bruce was trying to take a nap in the background. Tim made it to the doorway before Dick was on him like a shark in the water.

Tim was still holding his engagement rock and cradled the rock closer to his chest. If Dick is going to get mad, he's going down protecting this rock. He said offhandedly,

"Don't make it a big deal. We haven't even turned our rock into rings yet."

Tim and you had both decided to use the agate as your matching rings. It was a large enough gemstone after you both researched how big a rock had to be to become a ring, and Tim found a shop in Gotham who could do it. You were moving fast, sure, but he was certain he wanted to spend forever with you.

Dick was floored. He couldn't believe how casual Tim is about getting engaged. There was seemingly no thought put behind getting engaged. Dick said,

"Don't make it a big deal? Tim, you are about to get married! This is a huge deal!"

Tim smiled fondly. He's going to get married! The reality hit him in that moment. He's excited. He had not even thought you could feel the same way he did despite all the signs. All the rocks, all the hugs, all the times you held his hand and cuddled with him but nobody else. You could not have been more obvious.

"What's this about an engagement?"

Bruce asked groggily. He was used to waking up to screaming, but certainly not to an engagement. Who got engaged? Probably Jason. He definitely would hide a relationship from Bruce and get married before ever showing them.

"Timothy Jackson Drake got engaged without telling anyone! I had to find out through Jason!"

Dick sounded accusatory. He was hurt. Jason found out about it before he did. He's supposed to be the best big brother of all time. Tim quickly defended his actions,

"We've been engaged for an hour!"

Bruce muttered, about to fall asleep again,

"That's nice."

The words set in a moment later. He hesitantly opened his eyes and turned his head to face the bickering duo. He didn't sit up from his position on the couch, however.

"Wait. Tim? Not Jason?"

Dick looked at Bruce in pure confusion. Jason isn't even dating anybody. How would he get engaged? Then again, neither was Tim. Tim just skipped straight to marriage.

"Yeah. Tim."

Bruce eyed Tim for a long while. He asked,

"When did you start dating?"

What did he miss? He's Batman. He misses nothing. Dick was the only one freaking out about this engagement. How was Bruce so calm?

"They never dated!"

Bruce sighed. He just wanted to nap in peace. He needed this twenty minute nap. He grumbled,

"Don't make me a grandpa yet. I'm still too young."

Tim blushed. You would be laughing so hard if you were here. You loved making him flustered, and it's even better if it's from family drama.

"You are in SO much trouble, Timothy."

Dick was still fuming. Is it a friends-with-benefits turned lovers situation or what? Everybody with eyes could see the pining, but he never thought Tim would actually get married. Tim immediately threw Jason to the wolves by pointing and saying,

"Jason witnessed it all."

Dick paused his scolding. His gaze turned to Jason, who was rapidly retreating into the kitchen. The kitchen has a back door that he can escape out of if he's fast enough. Dick immediately began chasing him.

"Jason Peter Todd, get back here! I have questions for you!"

Tim slipped out the front door in the midst of the chaos and began his walk to the ring store. Dick will calm down by the time he's back. Probably. Hopefully.